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Lyz Russo

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The Family Pool - excerpt
By Lyz Russo
Monday, December 26, 2011

Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Mary Adams has married into a moneyed family. As time goes by she discovers something very sinister... this is an excerpt of the full story available at






The Family Pool


© Lyz Russo






e-shortbooked by


Licensed under Creative Commons License

Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported (CC BY-ND 3.0)

The Family Pool




Mary Adams gazed at her fairly new husband with starry eyes.  "That is so totally sweet of your family!"

 "Well, Babe," replied John, who hadn't yet got used to addressing his wife by her given name, "we are not wealthy for nothing.  We are the Adams.  If my uncle chooses to include us in the family pool, that is surely a fringe benefit of marrying me."

 Mary smiled and said nothing.  There was nothing "fringe" about marrying John!  He was larger-than-life, in everything he did - even in the concepts of his business, which, alas, was still in its beginning stages, but promised to grow huge - like everything his family did.

 John turned the key in the lock of the apartment, and carried his young wife over the threshold.  She gaped at the interior with her mouth open.

 The apartment was huge, and fitted with luxury.  Stained rosewood furniture graced the dining room which was complete with a multi-globed candelabra hanging over the enormous dining table.  The lead glass of the crystal cupboard revealed finest cut crystal glasses - possibly Waterford.  Past the dining room a spacious lounge greeted them, with deep leather sofas and plush woollen carpet.  John drew back the curtains by remote control, and a panoramic view spread out before them, hills undulating away into the misty distance.

"The way it works," explained John, his eyes trained on the valley below, "is that the youngest couple gets this apartment.  It is entry level.  There is no guarantee how long we will be here though.  It all depends on when space becomes available.  My uncle will let us know, don't worry!"

 Mary was still shaking her head in amazement.  "That is so sweet of him!"

"It has been the system for five generations now," said John smugly.

 Mary moved into the kitchen, which was ultra-modern and fully equipped with every luxury a woman could wish for, to make her life easier.  She found the espresso-maker and made herself and John each a hot cup.  

 "By the way," said John, "we are invited to the Residence for Christmas dinner."

 Mary smiled, a bit overwhelmed.  She had never yet celebrated Christmas away from her parents; and now that only her father was left, she was reluctant to leave him alone at Christmas.  But one could surely not turn down such an invitation from a man who had just set them up so generously!  She would organize something with her father.  

 "Yes, dear," she found herself saying.  It was the surroundings.






Mary Adams peered over her glass of orange juice at the gathered clan.  Which was the best word she could think of to describe them.  There were a lot of Adams'; she had been introduced until her head spun and now she couldn't remember a single name.

A Christmas buffet was spread out on the white wrought-iron garden tables that graced the spacious verandah.  Finest gammon-and-cranberry-sauce, thinly sliced turkey and tongue was presented in Wedgwood bone china, which Mary's mother-in-law, Eleanor, was quick to give her a guided tour on.  She had also jumped ahead with guiding Mary through the mansion - at least the parts that were open to guests - so that the poor girl wouldn't get lost!

The house was nothing short of mindboggling.  Rooms with a purpose dwelt without disputes next to rooms that were merely there to provide more space and beauty.  Mary, who had an eye for art, had spotted some of the magnificent paintings that were displayed; whereupon she received an interesting history on each, and its artist.  Though many were contemporary and quite a few from within the family, there were ancient masters amongst them - a Vermegeren here, a Spitzweg there.  

The bad conscience about leaving her father to his own devices on Christmas Day had been dissipated by himself.  She had at first tried to introduce the idea of bringing her father along; to which John's reaction had been utmost horror.  John got on well with her father; but he made it clear that the family would not take well to the less-than-well-off old gentleman.  Mary had then tried to arrange that they'd spend the morning at her father's, and only arrive at Adams' in the afternoon.  But this too, John had dismissed.  They were invited for the whole day, and what Uncle Daniel decreed, was what was done.  

Mary, extremely unhappy about this, had told her father all.  And he had sat her down and told her that she needed to go; she had married into high society and needed to take her obligations very seriously, especially in the light of what had been given to them.  

"You can tell me all about it when you come back," he had encouraged with a smile.  "Come here afterwards, no matter what time, and we'll have some port and Christmas music."

She had once again understood how privileged she was to have him for a father.

Now she was gazing at the many sleek, tanned bodies in swimsuits having a great time in the pool, and trying to remember at least some of the names that went with the faces.

Someone knocked a teaspoon against a glass; it chimed brightly, bringing the whole family to attention.  

"Uncle wants to make his speech," announced one of the many cousins of John, a handsome-looking young fellow with mid-brown hair and mischievous eyes.  Mary tried to remember whether his name was Peter.

"Does everyone have champagne?" asked Uncle Daniel, sweeping a look around the gathered clan and noting with a frown the orange juice in Mary's hand.  "Eleanor, do top her up, won't you?"

Eleanor approached with the Moe"t and Chandon and a clean glass for Mary.

"I'll stick with orange juice, thanks," said Mary in a hushed voice.

"Nonsense, dear, you'll have some champagne with us!"

"I'd really rather not," insisted Mary.

"You must, my dear!  The whole clan always toasts with champagne, it would be unthinkable for someone to toast with juice!"

"But - I mustn't," protested Mary.  "I can't.  Doctor's orders!"

Eleanor eyed her with suspicion.  "You're not a recovering alcoholic, are you, my dear?"

"No," said Mary, aware of the whole clan's attention on her.

"Then why on Earth should you not have champagne with us?"

"Because I'm pregnant," blurted Mary.


She hated having to disclose it before the whole gathered clan; more so because she had only confirmed it yesterday and had been saving up telling John, for a quiet moment.  Now he wasn't the first to hear about it.

She hated the effect of her words even more.  

It was as though a chill rippled through the whole gathered Adams clan; as though she'd announced that she had bubonic plague or were an escaped psychopath.  Everyone stared at her.  "Oh my G-d," said Eleanor, shocked, all colour draining from her face.  "Already?"

Mary scowled.  What on Earth was wrong with being pregnant?  She was a married woman; she had a stable job, and they had just been given a roof over their heads that was, while not strictly a survival necessity as she had rented an apartment before without anyone's help, still a huge boost in living circumstances.  

Uncle Daniel was the first to recover his posture.  He raised his glass and announced jovially:  "Well, congratulations, Mary, John!  Let's hope it's a son!  If it is, call him Daniel!  I'd like to propose a toast to our new addition!"

The congregated Adams' toasted, laughed and drank; but Mary detected horrified whispers and shocked expressions wherever she turned.  

"We'll have to do something!" - "This is disastrous!" - "Just shows you, marry down and that's what you get!" - "It's not yet time!"

She was suddenly extremely nauseous.  She excused herself and headed for the door inside, to find the bathrooms.  Just as she passed the great glass sliding door to the inside, a brown, skinny claw shot out and grabbed her by the arm.  She stared down into an ancient, sun-browned face.  Shrewd green eyes were narrowed at her.  Everything about this old woman reminded Mary of a crow.

"Get out of here," hissed the old lady.  "As fast as you can go!  Get away!"  And the claw-like hand released her.

Mary ran.


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