Author's Note:
All right. Nobody judge me. This idea popped into my head and wouldn't go away... and so I threw some cannon to the winds and started typing. *footshuffle*
Important Note: This is set before the train crash in LB, and Professor Kirk was able to keep his huge home. (GAH! Bad me, bad me... But you have to admit it; you've written and thought up slightly different endings and made changes to certain stories, too! I am not alone in this! :P )
Oh, and I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia - never have, never will. I do own Ava, though. So don't ya go stealing her.
Sunshine. If there was one thing in the world that made happy, made me smile like a fool, it was sunshine. There was such a promise to be found in sunshine - a promise full of joy - and I couldn't help but be affected. Soaking it in, I leaned against the large sink, ignoring the water seeping up into my sleeves. For this moment, this blissful moment, I wanted to enjoy all the warmth of the sun through the open window; have it consume me completely. A smile spread across my face as I allowed my eyes to close, forgetting everything.
Piled up dishes disappeared. The list of things-that-must-be-done-today ripped itself to shreds. I was no longer simply a maid in a large, empty old house. I was whoever I wanted to be; I was free…
"Unmovable. Fixed. Something that will never leave you… Do you understand what that means?" Her voice was gentle, warm, lovely.
"Yes, Mum." I replied, though I did not understand.
"No, love, you do not," She spoke again, as if reading my thoughts. "And you will not until you must."
My Mum loved the sun...
"Simply put, you are alone, Ava." My Aunt was not famous for sympathy. "And a young woman alone in this day and age is a danger to herself. I will do for you what I can, but you mustn't expect -"
"I expect nothing, Aunt. I can work, I have learned to work hard..." I could not find the words to continue. Barely 17 was I then, afraid, very much alone, and stubborn. Always stubborn.
"Then I will do for you what I can."
As that memory flitted through my mind, my blissful reverie was ended. Reality came crashing down again, and I was not free. My hair was still pulled painstakingly back in a tight bun, arms soaked in the soapy dish water that filled the sink, and wearing the plain, drab uniform of domestic employment.
With a frown, I grabbed a pot with porridge encrusted on the inside and started scrubbing with abandon.
Dreams. Dreams were worthless. This was my lot in life and I would learn to accept it. And if a simple household attendant was what I would forever be, than I was going to let this pot know it. I scrubbed harder than ever before. So absorbed was I in ridding this pot of its layers of stuck-on goo, that I jumped something fierce when the door to the kitchen burst open.
"Oy, Ava! Little 'elp!" John floundered into the kitchen a large suitcase in one hand, a hatbox strung in the crook of his arm, and another case slung on his back, causing him to bend over double. "The Professor's 'avin' guests, and they've got enough luggage fer the Queen o' Sheba." Despite his mule-like appearance a lopsided grin spread over his face.
"Guests?" My brow reached for the sky as my hands reached out to rescue John of his burden before he fell flat on the floor. The professor seldom ever had guests.
"Aye, aye - three of 'em! Young people, too, odd's fish." The young gardener, John The Incurable Optimist, continued cheerfully.
I wondered how he could be so happy. He was young, full of life, and as stuck as I was. But, unlike myself, he was happy and content. I wondered if it was a lack of knowledge that allowed him to be so, and I wished that I could be the same. But I couldn't. My few years at boarding school before my Mother's death had taught me what it was to be free and full of hope and dreams.
I nodded in response, shaking off this thought and returning to the task at hand. "And I suppose I better talk to Macready about supper..."
"She's in a right fluster, she is," John warned as we left the kitchen and walked down the corridor, a crease forming between his eyes as he lugged the suitcase along by his side. "All cryin' and wailin' about the Professor not tellin' her about the guests..."
"Girl, get over here!" As if on cue, the housekeeper's shrill voice pieced the air as she walked quickly into the corridor. "I'm sorry, John." I murmured, dropping the suitcase quickly on the floor and hurrying toward Macready. However much I abhorred it, I knew my place. If I protested or dawlded, I put my job on the line. Macready had been housekeeper for the professor since before the beginning of time, and she had all the servants fates in the palm of her hand.
Within the span of ten minutes, I was up to my elbows in preparations for as grand a supper as could be afforded. The table was to be set for four people; the professor and his three guests - nothing was to be spared tonight, on his orders. For some reason, tonight was special. Special for them, anyways. For me, I was stuck in a hot kitchen, my hair plastered to my forehead with sweat, as another beautiful spring day flew past.