Paris, 1831
Light fell through the wide but slightly aslope door of Café Musain onto the dark street. The café emblazed the street by it self being the only constant and remarkable source of light. Only few people were still out on the street. Beggars who searched a somewhat passable and warm place for the night.
Workers who came back from their corrosive shifts who hadn't seen Paris in sunlight for yet another day but still were grateful to have work at all. And the few who just entered or left the café.
Winter was not yet over and the nights were cold. People tried to keep their chambers warm by covering broken windows or gaps in the walls with planks or pieces of clothes. So did the café. Nearly all windows of the upper floor were provisional blocked with blinds and additional planks. Every leak caused cold no one wanted to bear.
Inside were the regular guests, mainly men who lived nearby rarely accompanied by their wives if they had one, and some strangers who got lost in Paris and had been stranded here wondering where they were and what to do next. Tables and chairs were carefully made once but carelessly used making them look battered and shabby. Candles provided the light some being in real chandeliers on the wall but mostly they have been put on the tables. Their wax had become their holder.
Behind the counter worked two dark-haired women, efficient and concentrated. One could tell them being mother and daughter but more from the way they behaved towards each other than by looks. Yes, they shared some features, but they didn't look much alike. The division of work was easy: the older one prepared the cups and mugs, filled them, cleaned them, filled them again and the young women served, collected empty jars, sometimes refilled them on the spot. Both knew the wine and few liquors they sold were cheap but they tried to compensate this fact with pleasant faces and some kind of optimism. Besides both knew hardly anyone of their customers could afford something more expensive. Who could afford more would not come to the Musain in their dreams.
The air was filled with talking, toasts and laughter and the bodies warmed the room. At least no one had to freeze unless the door was open. And this only happened when someone came or left and forgot to shut the door behind them quickly.
„Tonya! ", the older woman cried for her daughter, „Come help me girl!". The called made her way through the room towards the counter collecting empty jars ignoring inappropriate shouts about her. „What is it maman ?", Tonya asked placing the cups and mugs on the counter for her mother to do her work.
„Come help me with the bottles here.", her mother pointed towards full and empty bottles of wine which were about to become a new place in the café. „I want the full ones here under the bar and the empty ones stored in boxes.", the older woman explained her plan to her daughter and started immediately with working. More words were neither needed nor helpful the work needed to be done.
Doing as told Tonya helped her mother sorting the bottles mainly taking care of the already empty bottles. She put them in boxes which she then carried up the stairs which led to the first floor they used as storage. The café could have easily accommodated more people with this upper room but it was purely gainless. There were just not enough people to fill this room.
While running up and down carrying boxes of empty bottles Tonya heard how the door opened loudly but wasn't shut again. Quickly the room got cold and she stopped on the stairs looking for the genius who couldn't shut a door. Her eyes wandered through the room and found without difficulty the culprit. A young man, dressed mainly in dark colours, she knew like she knew herself. Dark, curly hair brown witty eyes that predicted some kind of a plan. Tonya shoud have known that only her brother could be capable of presumably killing all people in the café.
„COURFEYRAC!", she screamed, „By god, shut the door!", she then added frowning. With the slam of the door the cold as well as the complains of the guest ended and Tonya looked at her brother grinning but silently shaking her head. Courfeyrac just laughed the incident off and went through the café. He was charmingly greeting all of the guests, many by name, and hold a great speech of apology while he walked towards the counter. Tonya followed him and saw that their mother was still busy with storing the new bottles. She hadn't even noticed Courfeyrac's entrance.
„Look who's back from his playdate, maman!" Tonya mocked causing now Courfeyrac to frown.
„Antoinette be kind to your brother. He met fellow students.", their mother said without stopping her work. „ Good evening my dear. You alright?", she then asked her son smiling quickly at him. „I'm fine. Thank you, maman.", the man answered and stopped frowning at his sister who was still grinning. She actually liked her joke very much.
„Courfeyrac could you please help us out and serve the guests. We need to finish here.", the mother then asked the young man. He sighed impatiently but he knew there was no chance to have a conversation with his mother before the work was done.
So Courfeyrac, Tonya and their mother worked silently beside each other as they have done for countless evenings in the café.
Finally the bottles were organised, the guests were content and the family met again behind the counter. Madame Fabre monotonously cleaned jars her daughter leaned her head placed on her hands against the counter where Courfeyrac sat down.
„Maman, I have a favour to ask you.", the man started while standing up and turning to his mother. Both Madame Fabre and her daughter looked up interested yet confused by this starting. „What is it my dear?", Madame Fabre responded calmly. Both mother and sister knew that Courfeyrac's seemed really important to him. He was not forced to ask for his mother's permission for anything. Basically he was the man of the house, the legitimate owner of the café, he decided what he wanted to do and still he went for his mother's permission.
„You know we, my friends and I, have met now quite frequently and it would be adjuvant for us to always meet at one place. I thought we could use the upper room? There is the space, we have some spare tables, it would be perfect." he pled his cause but he didn't use his „little-boy-smile" Tonya knew very well. It must mean much to him.
She wasn't really pleased with his proposal. Not that she didn't granted him his group of friends or their meetings, but the upper room was their storage. It was bigger than the private rooms behind the café's main room. Her mother would never have these men here if the upper room wasn't polished to its best meaning the stored boxes and bottles had to go somewhere else.
But Courfeyrac had his points, it was a good place to meet and it was there so Tonya wasn't surprised at all when her mother granted her son's wish. Smiling for the fact he had asked her.
Hey everyone, so this was the first chapter and I hope you liked it.
Just wanted to add that I'm German so if you find greater mistakes (I tried to at least find all spelling mistakes) just say it. I really want to improve :)