“Do we have to?” Alice whined. She clutched at the ruffled skirt of her party dress, painstakingly avoiding making eye contact with her own reflection in the mirror.

“You look fine,” her mother dismissively replied in an exasperated tone. Her focus was elsewhere. A mascara brush deftly swept across her eyelashes as Alice watched on.

The words didn’t alleviate Alice’s worries. Her eyes flickered towards the mirror once more, catching a quick glimpse of her pigtailed blonde locks. Alice hated pigtails. She hated the pouty look on her face as well.

“But, what if-“she started to say before her mother cut her question short.

“No buts,” her mother warned, lowering the mascara brush to fix Alice with a stern expression. “You can take your blanket and your book. Just find a quiet corner and read.”

Alice scowled darkly as her mother returned to applying her makeup. She pulled a red lipstick from the drawer beside her, eyes flitting between her own reflection and that of Alice.

“Come on now, Alice. It’s a birthday dinner, not an execution,” her mother said. The words were gentle, but Alice knew that there was no room for argument on the subject. She remained silent and, for her mother’s sake, tried to maintain a neutral expression.

Alice wasn’t sure why it felt like such a bad idea to go. She had an inkling. An insidious feeling like a dark shadow twisting its way through the recesses of her mind. The problem wasn’t the event itself as Alice had suffered through numerous ‘parties’. The idea that adults even considered them a party seemed laughable. All they seemed to do was sit around and talk to each other. That and drink alcohol, which Alice also didn’t understand. She had been offered a sip of red wine at a previous dinner by her tipsy Aunt and had leapt at the opportunity to feel grown and accepted as a peer rather than just a child. She had, however, instantly regretted the decision as soon as the burgundy liquid touched her lips. The tartness of the liquid made her face pucker as though she had bitten down on a lemon. Her Aunt had assured her that it was an ‘acquired taste’ and that she would change her mind as she got older. Alice hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary. After all, why on Earth would anyone repeat the experience?

No, the real cause of concern for Alice was the location. More specifically, the hosts of the party at the occasion. Alice had been delighted when she was told that her grandfather would be having a small party to celebrate his birthday with family. A pit of cold ice had quickly developed in her stomach when she had learned that it was to be hosted at her aunt and uncle’s house.

The aunt was likeable enough. She was a quiet, reserved lady that was always soft-spoken around Alice. They had rarely spent time together before the injury that Alice had sustained when attacked by the dog. It was during her recovery afterwards, that they had spent quiet afternoons together at her aunt’s home while Alice’s parents worked.

Alice’s uncle was a different story. He was anything but quiet and reserved. Truthfully, Alice had always been a little afraid of him and as she got older, his criticisms of her only seemed to become sharper and more withering.

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When first sitting with her aunt, Alice had been delighted when offered the opportunity to learn embroidery. Her Aunt’s clothes were adorned with beautiful flowers and petals that seemed to grow from within the fabric itself. Some pieces even sported iridescent sequins in all manner of colours. Her Aunt had promised that, with time and patience, Alice would learn how to embroider all these patterns herself using only coloured thread and a needle.

It was during one of these blissful sessions that her uncle had come in, only to shout angrily at Alice. She had been sitting on the edge of the sofa. The doctor had requested that she should keep her leg elevated if sitting for prolonged periods of time and so her aunt had instructed her to rest her foot on the coffee table while she worked. Alice had been so engrossed in the fiddly work that she hadn’t even realised that her uncle had entered the room, let alone noticed the irate expression on his face.

“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?” he had roughly barked. The shock of his volume had caused Alice to prick herself with the needle and she sat paralysed by his words.

“In my house, you will respect my rules!” he then bellowed. Fearful, Alice had cried at those words. She hadn’t been sure then of which rules she had apparently broken. She had merely been sitting in the space that was allocated to her, working quietly.

Her aunt had rushed into the room at that point. Although she had explained why Alice was sitting with her foot resting upon the table, her uncle remained unimpressed. He scowled darkly at Alice for the remainder of the day.

Alice had continued to feel uncomfortable around her uncle. She had never enjoyed his company prior but had always felt as though she were furniture in her uncle’s eyes. Merely background noise to be overlooked until she was deemed old enough to have an opinion.

Her mother finished applying her makeup and, happy with the final result, turned to Alice.

“You can wear a little, if you want?” she offered with a smile. An olive branch in the form of a tube of lipstick.

Alice pouted. Not because she didn’t appreciate the offer, but because she wanted to wear the lipstick but was afraid to. The innocent pop of colour might be just another string to her uncle’s bow. A weapon designed to slice deeply into her self-esteem.

She gave a quick shake of her head to indicate her response. Her mother watched her for a moment and Alice was worried that she might have to explain herself. Thankfully, no such questions came, and her mother turned her attention to the bottles of perfume instead. She liberally spritzed her neck and wrists before offering the golden vial towards Alice.

Alice’s eyes widened in shock. “Can I?” she asked, awed.

Her mother smiled warmly. “Don’t tell your father,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Alice grinned and took the precious vial with glee. Though she was often offered her mother’s body sprays and cheaper perfumes, she had never been granted permission to use her mother’s special perfume. It was an anniversary gift, and an expensive one at that. Alice had no idea how much the sacred scent had cost, but her father had lamented frequently at the price when he thought that both Alice and her mother were out of earshot.

She sprayed the scent on her neck and then on her wrists as her mother had done before inhaling the scent deeply. Spices and exotic mysteries. The delicious aroma made her think of Jasmine, the Disney princess. It wasn’t flowery and sweet like most of the other perfumes she was accustomed to.

Her mother moved to stand and kissed Alice on the forehead as she did so. “Come on. Let’s see if he’s finished wrestling with his tie yet,” she said with a smile, leading Alice from the room.