T W E N T Y - F I V E

Everybody Here Was Someone Else Before

 

2024 March 31
Sunday

Her dress was perfect. It was a very soft pastel pink, with a subtle floral pattern in the bodice and lots of frills in the skirt that added volume. It hugged her above the waist, emphasizing her toned arms and small breasts, and then flared out below it, creating the illusion of a waist and hips that were still mostly in her future. It bared a lot of back, enough so that when she sat down at the vanity, she saw the reflection of Summer standing behind her, struggling to tear her eyes away. And the accessories and makeup Summer had helped her put together—capped off by Auntie Elle’s silver pomegranate necklace, which some helpful soul reporting to Trev had added to Summer’s jewelry box before it was brought to Dorley Hall—accented it perfectly. It even went well with Summer’s dress, which was lavender and a bit slinky (Summer wasn’t the only one having trouble controlling her gaze) but still perfectly appropriate for an Easter luncheon. Persephone had long since concluded that almost everything Summer wore was at least a little bit sexy.

But Persephone was having trouble enjoying how good both of them looked, because she was so preoccupied with unanswered questions.

How many of the people she was going to meet today had known her mother? How many hadn’t, but were helping to cover up his history? And why? Why would they decide to hide his involvement in Dorley Hall from his own daughter?

Persephone didn’t know the answers, and she didn’t know how to get them. Auntie Elle, Tabby, and Maria were all in on it, and Summer might be too—she couldn’t ask any of them. But the last two days had only made her questions even more urgent, and if nothing else, she’d be keeping an eye out today for anything that didn’t quite fit.

 

* * *

 

There were a lot of people around who Summer hadn’t seen in a long fucking time.

About half of her intake, for one thing: Autumn and Tash had come for the day and were chatting with Nell in the kitchen; the seating chart, Summer remembered, put her and Persephone at their table. Meanwhile, some ways away from them, Melissa was surrounded by a cluster of people, including Abby and her other wife, as well as Jane and her spouse for some reason.

Abby and Jane were just two of the dozen or so sponsors or former sponsors she recognized. Maria and Indira were here, of course, but so was Harmony, who’d sponsored Autumn, and Auntie Ashley, who’d been before her time. Quite a few of the women she’d worked with were absent, though; she supposed many of them had moved on. And Tabby must be changing upstairs (or making out with her boyfriend instead of changing; she always did get a little wound up when she felt pretty).

Aunt Bea was here, of course, accompanied by a woman who could only be her long-lost Valérie given how they both lit up whenever they touched—aspirational as always. Also chatting with her—and looking distinctly uncomfortable doing so—was Jan, who took turns with Grace as Elle’s personal assistant so they could both have lives of their own.

And then there was the pair of girls from the 2016 intake: Pippa (with girlfriend) and Siobhan (going stag), both much more grown up than the last time she’d seen them. The most intimidating of all, because no matter how much they changed, they would always remind her of George.

And also plenty of faces she didn’t recognize, or had only met in the last couple weeks. There’d been six intakes without her; that meant, what, roughly forty new girls made in her absence? No wonder there were so many.

She glanced to Persephone, thinking she might be nervous about presenting like this in such a big crowd without any champagne to help, but she was scanning the room with an odd expression. Almost…calculating?

“Lookin’ good, babe!”

Summer turned and her breath caught for a moment. Tabby was in a yellow dress that was floaty and polka-dotted. Such a loss to sapphics everywhere that she was straight. “You too, Tabs,” she said, and they exchanged hugs and cheek kisses. A new perfume today—something fruity and fresh.

“Summer,” said Tabby’s companion, “we meet at last.”

“My old nemesis,” she giggled, and she gave Levi a hug.

He was a handsome man, that’s for sure. Hazel eyes, dark hair, a meticulously-maintained beard, and a laid-back vibe—all familiar from video calls. What she’d never been able to tell from Edinburgh was that he was shorter than Tabby but not by much; Persephone was shorter than him.

Speaking of—“Persephone, this is Levi, Tabby’s boyfriend. Levi, my friend Persephone.” The word friend felt unexpectedly strange in her mouth, like it was inadequate to encompass their relationship, but she tried to ignore it.

“Persephone Chase,” Persephone said, holding out her hand. “Hi, Levi. Love the beard—it reminds me of my mum’s.”

Levi smiled as he shook her hand. “Your mum was a guy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “A gender therapist, if you can believe it, for nearly a decade before his egg cracked!”

Levi laughed and started telling an anecdote about a string of school plays, but Summer’s gaze was on Tabby, whose eyes had widened at Persephone’s story. Tabby then gave Summer a meaningful glance before dipping her shoulder. Her purse slipped down her arm and fell to the floor; a couple dozen items spilled out with a clatter.

“Shit!” Tabby said as she stooped to collect them. Summer, recognizing the ruse, quickly followed; Levi was about to do the same, but shrugged and returned to his story when Tabby waved him off.

“Her mum,” Tabby whispered as she scooped coins back into the coin pocket. “The gender therapist—was his name Dylan?”

Summer, who was gathering up several pieces of makeup and a compact, glanced to Tabby and nodded.

“Dammit!” Tabby hissed.

“What’s wrong?” Summer whispered back.

Tabby shook her head. “Too much to explain now. But we need to talk—soon.”

The two of them dumped the items they’d collected back in Tabby’s handbag. When they stood, Persephone looked at each of them curiously, but only for a second.

Summer rejoined the conversation, which had moved on to discussing Persephone’s and Levi’s troubles with their respective families (sans the armed soldiers), but her mouth was on autopilot. What was it that Tabby needed to tell her, and what did it have to do with Persephone?

Eventually, Tabby interrupted a story to say, “Oh, there’s a couple of people you should meet.”

She waved and beckoned, and then a group of five women—three recent graduates and two first years (first years! Even fucking Melissa hadn’t gone to Easter!)—started walking their way. An older girl Summer didn’t recognize murmured something to the first years, probably a reminder to be on best behavior, and then they were upon them, and Tabby began the introductions.

“Ladies,” she said, “these are my boyfriend Levi, my girl Summer, and her girl Persephone.” She touched each one’s arm in turn, then turned to the newcomers.

“Summer, I think you’ve met Sophia?” she said, gesturing towards one of the first years. Summer nodded and the two of them exchanged small smiles. They’d spoken briefly in the kitchen once; Sophia was sweet but self-assured.

“Well, Nerys here is her girlfriend,” Tabby continued. The wiry girl gave them an adorably shy finger-curl wave, and Summer waved back.

“Mary is another one of my girls,” Tabby said. That got an even bigger smile from Summer, which Mary returned; any girl of Tabby’s was a sister of Summer’s.

“And then we have Ellen,” Tabby said, looking to Persephone, “and her fiancée, Stephanie.”

 

* * *

 

Tabby did know something. Her immediate reaction and her whispered conversation with Summer on the floor had proven it.

Having determined that she was not completely paranoid, Persephone had already started thinking about how she could subtly test this next group of girls. But all of her clever calculations went out the window when she heard the redhead’s name.

“I…” She launched herself forward and hugged Stephanie tightly, drawing a squeak out of the taller girl. ”Thank you!” she told her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You changed my life by introducing me to Summer!”

Stephanie recovered from her startlement quickly, returning the hug. “You’re welcome,” she said warmly. “I’m glad I could help.”

“She does that,” Ellen said, smiling fondly at Stephanie. “I mean, a few years ago I was this total jackass—just a grade-A complete tool, like some epic-level wizard merged every shitposting bully on 4chan together and sealed them in a flesh prison with the form of a privileged little twink—who sucked at being a man and found ways to take it out on everyone around them, but somehow Stephanie saw me in that human five-alarm dumpster fire and she put on the big red hat and the breathing mask with the air tanks and the heavy day-glo coat and the pants with the suspenders, except not in that order, and she ran straight into the fire to pull me out of it and help me learn to be a girl instead. Her and Maria, who I think you must have met the other day because she was telling me how great your hair is, and actually, now that I’m looking, she’s totally right, although given who I’m marrying, I guess I might just have a type. But anyway, yeah, Stephanie’s incredible and we’re both lucky we found her.”

Summer looked blindsided by the torrent of words that had poured from Ellen’s mouth, but they rang a bell for Persephone. She remembered hearing a very similar cadence years ago, from an upperclassman making threats that he never fully followed up on…

“Holt?” she asked.

Ellen’s eyes widened. “What? How? I mean—who? I mean…” She groaned. “Fuck. Chase? I thought you looked familiar.”

Summer and Stephanie looked between them. “Wait, you know each other?” Summer asked.

“Boarding school,” Persephone said. “She was a couple years ahead of me. And yeah, she was a total jackass back then. But—” she looked to Stephanie, “—she got better?”

“Definitely,” Stephanie said, taking Ellen’s hand. “A million times better.”

“Okay,” Persephone said with a shrug.

“Are you sure?” Ellen said. “I mean, I was fucking horrible, I—”

“I’m sure,” Persephone cut her off. “I mean, even without knowing you were a girl, it was obvious you were having a tough time. And there was no lasting harm done. Water under the bridge. We’re fine.” She offered her hand, and Ellen shook it, looking a little dazed.

“So,” Persephone said, “how did you two meet?”

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t know they were an item,” Levi said on the way to their table.

“I don’t think Summer knows that, either,” Tabby replied.

“Lesbians,” he groaned with the exasperation of one who’d dated them.

 

* * *

 

When Summer approached their table, her year mates were already there. Autumn, fashionably dressed as always, was sitting beside a handsome man in a suit, who she soon introduced as her boyfriend Dominic; he gave Persephone a curious glance but treated her politely. (Summer made sure to squeeze her hand at that.) Tash, on the other hand, was the one wearing the menswear in that couple; their husband Reese was a very pretty boy who wore long bottle-blond hair, impeccable eyeliner, a hot pink choker, and a matching satin dress. Nell, wearing a mint midi dress, had come alone—well, other than her second-year girl at another table. Summer looked around, finding that Melissa was seated on the other side of the room; her entourage filled an entire table by themselves.

The four of them started catching up. Autumn had settled into the life of a wealthy socialite, which seemed to suit her. Tash had a boring job as a designer for a tech company by day, but spent their nights as a club DJ. Nell was a sponsor, Summer knew, but with undisclosed people around she stuck largely to discussing her doctoral thesis.

And then it was Summer’s turn. “I’ve been up in Edinburgh doing electro mostly for trans girls,” she explained, “but I took a leave of absence to help out Persephone here.”

“Summer found a baby trans to take care of? Shocker,” Tash snarked, and the other graduates giggled.

Summer rolled her eyes at Tash, and Autumn grinned. “It’s true, though,” she said. “I thought you’d just stay here forever.”

So had she, once. “Sometimes things change,” Summer muttered.

“They really do,” said an alto voice behind her.

Summer turned, and there was Pippa—bleached blond hair in a pixie cut, absolutely flawless makeup, crisp white blouse and a skirt in a rainbow of pastels, standing beside what Summer assumed was her partner. She was gorgeous. She was all grown up.

“Hi,” Summer said softly.

“Hello,” Pippa said in a similar tone, and opened her arms for a hug. Summer stepped into it, and quickly discovered that graduate Pippa was a good hugger. So very different from the second-year she’d last seen, let alone from the boy she’d first met!

After a similar exchange with Pippa’s yearmate Siobhan—and a whisper of “Vanessa’s friends” to Persephone, who had given her an inquisitive look—the new arrivals introduced themselves to everyone else and they all sat down. Summer found herself seated between Pippa and Persephone, while Autumn was on Persephone’s other side. The mismatched pair of men ended up next to each other, too.

The current batch of second years were even better cooks than usual, so the food was delicious. So was the wine, for that matter, and the conversation was light and enjoyable, too. Well, except for the part where Autumn figured out that Persephone’s relationship with Summer was not entirely platonic and started loudly comparing notes with her. At least Dominic seemed even more embarrassed about it than Summer; the painfully straight man apparently hadn’t realized that his girlfriend was bisexual.

The whole situation seemed to make Dominic pretty uncomfortable, actually: the pack of lesbians dominating the conversation, the visibly trans and non-binary people, the invisibly trans people he thought were cis for the first half of the meal, the femboy sitting next to him. At one point he tried to strike up a conversation about football with Reese, only to be surprised when Pippa’s girlfriend Rani proved the most enthusiastic about Liverpool’s chances. Oh, well; cishets had to learn the truth about gender sooner or later.

People began to circulate during the intermission between the meal and dessert, and Summer’s table were no exception. Summer found herself sipping her wine as she trailed behind Persephone and Autumn, who were somehow still talking about their respective sex lives with her.

“I think we’ve lost your boyfriend,” Summer interrupted, trying to get her onto a different topic.

“Tash is with him,” she said offhandedly. “I think they’re trying to lock him in a closet with their husband.”

”What?” Summer said as Persephone giggled.

“He’s been super-weird about queer guys for as long as I’ve been dating him,” Autumn said with a grin. “Gotta make him get over it sooner or later!” Then she turned to greet someone. “Lissa, dear, so good to see you again!”

And there she was: Fucking Melissa, in the flesh. The blond girl looked better than Summer remembered—a bit less thin, a bit more cheerful. Married life must suit her.

“Wait, could that be Summer I see behind you?” she heard Melissa say. Shit, she’d lost track of the conversation. “I heard you were in town!”

“Hi, Melissa,” Summer said awkwardly from behind Autumn. “Long time no see.”

Melissa opened her arms for a hug. Summer was surprised—hadn’t they parted on bad terms?—but after a brief hesitation she accepted it. “It’s been too long!” Melissa said. It must be the tenth time Summer had heard that phrase today; byproduct of their common comportment training. “I’m so glad to see you again, and in one piece.” Then she murmured in Summer’s ear, “And I hear you’ve had too much adventure the last few months.”

“No kidding—I haven’t been more than three meters from my taser since January,” Summer replied quietly. “But thankfully, the adventures seem to be behind us.” She pulled away from the hug and her hand automatically found Persephone’s. “And speaking of ‘us’—Persephone, this is Melissa; she was one of my dorm mates here. Melissa, this is Persephone, my, uh, friend. I’ve been helping her transition.”

Melissa offered Persephone her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Persephone.” Persephone took it gently. “Someday, ask me to tell you about what Summer did the morning I came out,” she finished with a wink.

Summer, who’d taken a sip of her drink, nearly spat it out at the casual reference to one of her boy self’s final misdeeds. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little quick on the draw,” she gasped.

“I’d not even been out ten minutes when you started hitting on me!” Melissa said gleefully. Summer’s head was spinning; Melissa couldn’t have caught her more off-guard if she’d tried. The decision Summer had spent years regretting, feeling it had alienated Melissa forever, was actually just a punchline to her?

Persephone giggled. “That sounds like quite the story! I have to admit, you’re a bit different from how Summer described you,” she said. Then she added, sotto voce, “Less stuck-up!”

Summer gave her a look that suggested that Persephone’s punishment for throwing her under the bus would include impact play. Persephone replied with a mischievous grin. Brat.

Melissa, seemingly ignorant of the byplay, laughed. “That was the old Melissa,” she said. “And in fairness, she was an aloof, stuck-up fool, but I got better.”

Their conversation was interrupted when a meter of adorable in a cute dress wandered over and took Persephone’s other hand. “Miss Purse…uh, Purse-phony?”

Persephone giggled only a little bit before smiling down at her. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Auntie Autumn said you’re like me? A trans girl?”

Persephone’s smile widened. “I am!” she said. “And you are simply adorable, if no one’s told you that in the last minute.”

“Thanks!” the little girl said. “I’m Amelia. Want to see my coloring book?”

Persephone glanced at Summer—that fine with you?—and Summer replied with a tiny nod and a squeeze of her hand. “Sure!” Persephone told her.

The little girl grinned and snatched up Persephone’s hand, eagerly dragging her away.

 

* * *

 

Persephone let Amelia lead her back to her table, where the little girl shoved aside a few dishes of leftovers, pulled a sparkly pink backpack out from under the tablecloth, and rummaged around until she produced a coloring book and a fistful of crayons. Then they sat together and Amelia started flipping through the completed parts of the coloring book, narrating each picture to Persephone until they finally arrived at one that was only half-finished. Amelia had already colored all the pink parts (the princess’s dress, crown, and sword, as well as the dragon), so she picked up a yellow crayon and started coloring in the dragon’s fire.

“Does it take a long time to color your girlfriend’s arm?” Amelia asked conversationally.

Girlfriend? If only, Persephone thought but did not say to the girl who was far too young to learn about ‘friends with benefits’. “Color her arm?” she asked instead.

“Yeah! All the flowers and plants are so pretty!” Amelia said. “But markers always come off in soap and water, so you must have to color it in again when she takes a bath.”

Persephone giggled. “That’s right. It takes hours and hours to color it in.” She decided not to mention that the tattoo artist did the coloring; her mothers deserved to hear a misunderstanding that cute at least once.

“Oh, but would you rather color flowers?” Amelia stopped, looking up at Persephone with concern. “I have another coloring book if you like flowers better.”

“Princesses are fine,” Persephone reassured her, patting her hand. “I like princesses.”

“Me too!” Amelia said happily, returning to her crayons. “They’re so pretty and smart and brave…and they fight with swords!”

Whatever princess media Amelia’s mums were showing her, Persephone approved. “You know,” she said with a sly smile, “I actually have a sword.”

Amelia dropped her crayon, looking up at Persephone in shock. “You have a sword?!” she shouted. A few adults looked their way and laughed; Summer shot Persephone a smirk before turning back to Melissa.

“Yup. It’s called an épée—it’s a little thinner than your princess’s blade, and more bendy.” She picked up a blue crayon and drew a picture of her sword in the top corner, where Amelia would probably color in the sky later. “I use it for a swordfighting sport called ‘fencing’. I’ve been practicing since I was thirteen.”

“There’s a sport for swordfighting?” Amelia asked. “But don’t people get hurt?”

“Nope.” Persephone sketched herself holding the epee in her fencing gear. “We wear a see-through face mask and a suit of white padding and armor so nobody gets hurt.”

“A suit of armor?” She gaped up at Persephone, stars in her eyes. “You’re a lady knight!”

Persephone laughed. “No, I’m not a knight.”

“Then are you a princess?”

“Not a princess, either.” She decided to humor the kid, so she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Actually, when I’m older, I’ll be a marchioness. A noble lady.”

Amelia gasped. “A lady!” she whispered back. “What’s it like being a lady?”

Persephone frowned. “Actually, not as much fun as it could be,” she admitted. “A lot of people, like my uncle, insist that I’m supposed to be a lord.”

“That’s mean!” Amelia said with the righteous fury of a primary schooler. “Is…is it because you’re trans?”

“Yeah,” Persephone said. “Even if you change your gender, they don’t change your title.”

“Some of the kids in my school are like that,” Amelia said sympathetically. “I can’t get a Gender Wrecking Certificate until I’m a grown-up, so they say I’m still a boy.”

“I’m sorry,” Persephone said, trying not to giggle at her mispronunciation. “You know that being a girl inside is what matters, right?”

“Yup!” Amelia said. “So, you know what I do?”

“What?”

“Well, first I told everyone that I’m a girl. And now I dress like a girl, and walk like a girl, and talk like a girl, and play like a girl. So when the mean kids say I’m a boy, they just look stupid!”

Amelia giggled, and so did Persephone. Was it that simple? Act every inch the marchioness and let the transphobic peers look like fools? “I might try that, actually,” Persephone said. “Thanks.”

Amelia beamed up at her.

The sound of someone clinking on her glass drew Persephone’s attention.

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” Summer said.

Melissa smiled. “We just adopted her—goodness, has it only been six weeks? It feels like six months!”

“She’s absolutely precious,” Summer said. “And I saw you’re still with Abby? And that other woman—uh, Shahida, right?”

”Back with Abby, actually. I…I got a little lost after I left the Hall,” Melissa admitted. “Broke up with her for a while because I got in my head about whether I would’ve loved her if she hadn’t been my sponsor.”

Summer was surprised. When she had left the hall at the end of 2017, Melissa was already two years gone and as far as Summer knew, she was doing better than ever. Who knew the star of the 2012 intake had kept problems like this to herself?

“It was Shahida who pulled me out of it,” Melissa continued with a fond smile in the direction of her wives, who were talking to each other nearby. “Partly by falling in love with Abby herself so easily, because there had to be more to my feelings than just trauma bonding if Shy saw something in her too. And partly by pointing out that a Melissa who didn’t love Abby would be a different person from me, and trying to be her was just another way of denying myself.”

Summer closed her eyes and nodded. In Melissa’s words about denying herself, she heard an echo of Maria’s unanswered question from the other day: Do you ever...miss it?

She opened her eyes in surprise at the feeling of Melissa’s hand taking hers. “Are you okay, Summer?” she asked.

Summer chuckled. “Fine. Just…a little jealous, I guess. Same as always.”

“Jealous?”

Summer frowned. “You mean, you didn’t know?”

Melissa shook her head.

“Melissa, all through the program, I was so jealous of you. Of how quickly you progressed and how much praise you got for it. Of all your little privileges and perks. Of…” Was she really going to say this? “Of the woman you loved actually loving you back. And now here we are, a decade later, totally different circumstances, and I’m still finding myself jealous of you. Of your family.” Summer chuckled bitterly. “I guess some things never change.”

“Summer…” Melissa said softly, squeezing her hand. “I…that’s not how it felt for me. I made so many mistakes, took so many shortcuts to leave as soon as I could…I was really only half-finished when I left. And some of those shortcuts…” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to wait for the process you did, so I took a stupid cis NPH. And now I have a trans daughter who doesn’t know her own mum is trans.”

“Oh,” Summer said quietly, squeezing her hand. “You can’t tell her?”

Melissa’s chuckle sounded a little brittle. “I’d love to,” she said. “Maybe when she’s older. But right now, she can’t really keep a secret. But you wouldn’t have that problem. You did the process properly, figured out who you are and what you want, and now you get to live it. And I can’t help but be jealous of you for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Summer said, letting go. “I…guess I might feel that way too in your shoes.”

It was then that they were interrupted by a six-year-old shrieking at the top of her lungs, “You have a sword?!” Both women looked towards Persephone and Amelia. Persephone looked back; Summer smirked at her.

“She has a sword?” Melissa asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Persephone is a fencer,” Summer explained. “Said she was about average for her uni team…but I looked it up and her team was very good.”

“I see,” Melissa said. “That probably makes her the coolest girl Amelia has ever met. She’ll be talking about her for days.”

Summer smiled fondly towards Persephone. “She’s not wrong.” They were silent for a moment as she watched her girl speak animatedly with the adorable six-year-old. Two very different kinds of cute.

“You know,” Melissa said hesitantly, “there are sisters who get along nicely their whole lives. But there are also sisters who are terrible rivals as children, but then they grow up and learn to see through each other’s eyes. Maybe…maybe that could be us.”

Summer smiled. “I’d like that,” she said, and this time, she initiated the hug. It was not nearly as one-sided as the first.

They broke off when Summer’s phone started singing, ”Boys only want love if it’s torture / Don’t say I didn’t, say I didn’t warn ya…” Melissa giggled—“See? We even have the same taste in ringtones!”—but Summer frowned as she dug it out. That was the text tone she’d assigned years ago to staff alerts.

Duty Sponsor:
@OnsiteStaff Fist fight between 2-3 boys in B2 common room.
Senior 1Y sponsors: Report to security room immediately to subdue boys.
Junior 1Y sponsors: Supervise 1Ys in dining hall.
2Y sponsors: Supervise 2Ys and 3Ys in dining hall.
3Y sponsors: Report to security room as backup.

While technically “onsite staff” thanks to her nominal assignment as Persephone’s sponsor, none of the instructions applied to Summer; she should probably be with Persephone, though.

It was then that Aunt Bea stood and started clinking a spoon on her glass, probably to divert attention from the departing sponsors. “Good afternoon, everyone!” she began. “I’m so grateful you could all come for Easter lunch….”

“I should collect Persephone,” Summer said. “But let’s talk again soon.”

“Absolutely!” Melissa said before they parted.

A moment later, Summer and Persephone were walking hand-in-hand back to their table. As they did, though, Summer spotted some of the sponsors starting to leave—Tabby, Maria, Edy—and noticed something troubling. None of them had a place to conceal a taser. They’d have to pick theirs up in the security office, put in batteries and cartridges, register their fingerprints. It took a couple minutes, slowed their response time.

Summer’s taser, on the other hand, was in her purse right now. She was in the best position to help.

Do you ever…miss it?

“Persephone,” she said, “there’s something I need to take care of. Why don’t you head back to our table and I’ll meet you there in a little while?”

“Okay,” Persephone said with a smile. “Hurry back!”

Summer waved her goodbye and strode quickly towards the basement doors. She thumbed the lock and began to run down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Persephone watched Summer walk towards the imposing basement doors. She watched several of the older women present walk that way too, including Tabby and Maria.

Was something going on down there?

Persephone hesitated. You told Summer you’d meet her at the table, she reminded herself. You told her you wouldn’t pry into her secrets.

But she was now all but certain: Her mum had been part of this place once, years ago, but not so long that some of the older girls didn’t remember her. And if her mum had been here years before Summer—if Persephone herself had been here when she was little—weren’t they her secrets too?

Summer had said there were personnel records in the basement. Did some of them discuss her mother? And would she ever have a better chance to find out than she did right now?

Persephone turned her back on the table. Instead, she trailed behind the last group of women heading for the basement. She caught the door handle just before it closed; then, with a deep breath and a glance back into the dining room, Persephone descended into the depths.

 

* * *