There was something about rich kids that made them want clandestine meetings. Not the actual kind where you would find somewhere secluded and far away from prying eyes and curious ears. No, they liked the movie kind, the crowds, the peer pressure, the power of conducting business out in the open without fearing others.

"Something tells me you don't have good news." Ava drawled as she slid onto the bench beside Lydia Beaufort. "At least you didn't the last time you came bearing gifts."

Lydia scoffs, "You have a horrible memory, I've brought you plenty of gifts."

"Bribery."

"Says the blackmailer."

They shared a glace, a soft smirk spreading across both faces. Sure, this was a I scratch your back, you scratch mine kind of arrangement. But they could still respect each other. And it had been awhile since Ava had met anyone as interesting as Lydia.

"Take it then."

Lydia hands her a large white box. Hard, well she's not sure it could be called cardboard, but each plane of the box is carefully indented with the repeat pattern of the Beaufort name. Only the centred is monogrammed with gold leaf to highlight the Beaufort family seal. She wouldn't be surprised if it was actual gold but she didn't think that even the Beauforts would be that wasteful.

"Are you going to open it?"

– – –

"Are you going to open it?"

Ava raised her brows over the edge of the white monogrammed bag. It was covered in teh Beaufort family crest and name. A bag large enough to conceal another bag, or a pair of heels, or a dress, or any number of things that Lydia Beaufort would deem a worthy bribe.

"This is part of the deal, Lydia." She muses, taking a seat at one of the large plush armchairs in the ante-chamber library. "And I'm certainly not accepting it in place of actual payment."

Lydia huffs, finding her own seat opposite Ava. They're no more than two metres apart with the way they were hidden in the small alcove. Surprisingly, this was one of the few place in Maxton Hall that Ava didn't already know about. Though, in her defence, it was the private library of a certain teacher, with access directly from his office, and his office alone.

"Forgive me for wanting to do something nice."

Ava arched a brow, "And what was the burgundy coat for?"

"That was a christmas present," Lydia counters, smirking at Ava. "Beside, that was for Lillian, so you couldn't refuse."

"You need more friends."

Lydia rolls her eyes at that but Ava concedes with a sigh. It takes far too long to open the bag, untying the ribbons holding it closed and fighting her way through two layers of tissue paper just to find a protective velvet bag guarding the contents.

Ava glances up cautiously but Lydia is only staring at her with a carefully neutral expression. The young Beaufort arches a brow in challenge. A perfect mimic of the look Ava had seen her brother throw at teachers and pupils alike in challenge.

She carefully opened the bag to reveal–

"You've got to be joking."

"I am not." There was glee in Lydia's tone. "It's gorgeous isn't it."

"I am not accepting this."

"Why not?" Lydia's incredulous tone grated on Ava's ears. "It's just a bag."

"It's a Prada."

"Exactly," Lydia nodded, a proud look in her eyes as if she had done something clever. "Even a few higher funded normies have those bags."

Ava sighs, rubbing at her forehead.

"Oh please," Lydia pouted, "don't act all dramatic. You can't get a headache from owning a Prada bag."

"And how exactly am I supposed to explain such an expensive purchase to my friends and family?"

"Simple," There was an insecurity shining in Lydia's eyes. One that Ava tried to ignore. "Tell them it was a gift from a friend."

– – –

"Well," Lydia shifted in her seat with barely contained eagerness. "Open it."

Ava sighs, "Why must you always come bearing gifts."

Lydia shrugs, "It's good manners."

And good taste apparently, if the thick winter coat in the box was anything to go by. It was a rich navy colour, and Ava could feel how thick it was, and how expensive the material must be if the soft feel was anything to go by.

"Lydia–"

"Don't, okay." Ava blinked in surprise at the harsh tone. Lydia had pursed her lips next to her, gaze fixed out onto the field where her brother was practising. "I do have bad news."

"And you feel guilty about it?"

Lydia shoots her an irritated look. One that has Ava playfully raising her hands in defence.

"I don't have the money, Aves."

Her heart stuttered.

"My mother had sealed my trust fund." Lydia continued on, voice practically breathless. "I tried to get– well she won't change her mind. There's nothing I can do."

Ava couldn't breathe.

"I– I can find money else where, we can find another way to keep Lillian in school."

What other way was there?

She had been greedy. So fucking greedy. What the hell had she been thinking?

Why didn't she keep her head down. Ava knew perfectly well why, arrogance. It was all fine until Lydia had started getting desperate. She had never wanted anything from the Beaufort girl, hell she had originally deemed the whole mess a shit-storm that she couldn't risk getting entangled with.

But then Lydia kept raising her price higher and higher until– well she couldn't refuse such a number.

Didn't change the fact that Ava went and spent it all straightaway. She had put it directly to the school, believe that a Maxton Hall education would be best for her sister. As if she shouldn't have put all the money aside for Lillian's future, saved up for a university fund or to pay for the final two years at Maxton. Just like she and Ruby had.

"She was supposed to have a better life." Ava whispered.

"What?" Lydia turned to her and Ava realised she had cut the girl off in the middle of some kind of apologetic rant.

"Lillian was supposed to have a better life."

"Better than what?"

"Than me." Ava whispered, toying with the jacket lapel. "She was going to have a better experience from the start."

"I-" Lydia hesitated, unsure what to say. She glance back at her twin, the one running drills back and forth across the pitch. "We could ask James–"

"There's no point." Ava's voice had gone quiet. "I was being stupid, Lydia. I didn't think any of this through properly."

Lydia didn't say anything. She just glanced between James and Ava as if she could magically make it all better. Ava knew the sentiment well. How easily money had blinded her to the important things.

"I need to go, Lillian will be waiting for me to pick her up."

It was only when Lydia slid her hand into Ava's that she realised she was shaking. Trembling like a leaf.

"Ava–"

She tugged her hand out of the girl's grip, "Keep the coat, Lydia."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･

Ava was quiet on the bus ride home. Lillian of course, didn't notice, she was happily talking away about what she had spent the day doing. Normally Ava would enjoy this part of her day, relishing in the joy Lily clearly had for her school days. Now it was just another reminder of how rash and stupid she had been.

Lily reached out for Ava as she leapt from the bus, fully trusting that Ava would catch her and swing her up onto her hip like she had done every day since they started at Maxton hall.

It was that trust that had brought the most guilt upon Ava's shoulders.

Eventually, as she always did, Lily got bored of being carried and wiggled her way out of her grip. The street they lived on was fairly quiet so Ava had no worries of her getting lost or hurt. But she did look around at the place they called home.

Now called home.

It was her mother's second house after the divorce, one that she married into. The first home they had lived in– it brought a tightness to Ava's chest. The memories of that run down council flat, the one built decades ago with no care for safety regulations. She still remembers the odd collection of neighbours they had.

That kind heart nurse who got more and more bitter by the day. The coffee shop worker with three kids and drug runner for a wife. The elderly Mrs Finch who brought her home bakes down to Ava when she was little. In an odd way she remembers them fondly. When the nurse would patch up her scrapes, when the coffee shop worker would give his neighbours discounts.

None of that changed the fact that Ava wanted to be sick everytime she thought of them.

Because she saw how sick they got. Not just in body but in mind. She watched as they gave up, one after another. It was their kids who managed to get out. Some on sports scholarships, others worked their way up the corporate ladder. It was never the parents who got out, they were always crippled by their dependents.

She often wondered if that was why Heather Sinclair was so quick to marry. Albert Fogles. She could never consider her mother to be Heather Fogles, not when she and Lillian– well, not since Ava had the name Sinclair. Lily, of course, was Albert's daughter. Something Ava was quick to keep out of the school records. Her father's name, Sinclair, would bring her little sister more good fortune than Fogles.

If only to save from merciless bullying at school.

"Lily." She called ahead to where her sister had raced along the stone wall, eager to see Miss Jenkin's new puppy. "No further."

She could hear the dramatic sigh from 10 paces away.

Her sister did listen. She was thankfully at their age where Ava was practically a god, or maybe a magician, in her eyes. Capable of making impromptu ice cream runs and trips to the park.

Which is naturally the most important thing to a seven year old.

That and the labrador puppy nipping at her fingers. Ava couldn't help but smile at Lily's giggles, at the way her face lit up with joy as she leaned through the wooden fence. Ava glanced around the granite town house, waiting to catch Miss Jenkin's eye through one of the large bay windows that framed either side of the red door. It was a lovely home, one surrounded by wisteria and a carefully maintained garden.

Or rather, what was once a carefully maintained garden but now a play park for a new puppy.

"Come along, lily." She gently tugged her sister away from the gate, ignoring her pitiful whines that nearly matched the pup in pitch. "We'll be late for dinner if we take any longer."

That almost got her moving, and Ava couldn't decide whether to sigh or laugh at the way her sister stomped her feet with every step. They were home within minutes, the door to the town house already open. Lily raced in, already calling out to their mother.

Ava took her time closing the white gate, dragging her hands along the peeling paint that covered the wood. It was a truly lovely home. Two stories, bay windows, an attic, front and back garden, two bathrooms– except all of it belonged to Fogles.

The love of her mother's life.

Aside from her father that is.

And that one firefighter who she spent hours kissing in her youth. Which is far too much information for any daughter to have about her mother.

That and the knowledge of how utterly terrible her mother's taste in men was.

Case and point: Her father. Rupert Sinclair, Earl of Norfolk.

Though perhaps that's where Ava gets her arrogance. That ridiculous need for money. Her mother had married rich after all. When Ava glanced up, preparing to glare at the house of leisure her mother had once again married into, she found her mother glaring back.