Shades of Family

She had taken the purple, a Violet with the violence of puce who spoke with a plum in her mouth whilst damsoned words dribbled from her disapproving lips. She was the relative who pinched cheeks, the Grande Dame with the supercilious air, the one who sniffed haughtily whilst making mountains out of molehills, looking down from their summit at those who ran around after her.

Yes, Aunt. No, Aunt. Yes, Mama. No, Mama. Yes, Ma’am. No, Ma’am. All obeyed the purple tyrant, their green eyes focussed on hidden gold, the silver lining of their blood tie. They allowed her to stamp across the landscape of their lives, not realising her bank account was as empty as her heart.

And when Violet shrank from the world, her family showed how closely they resembled her as the reading of the will left them with nothing, except angrily purpled faces.