A/N: Big Fan: thanks so much for your indepth review. I really wish you had an account. Is there any chance that you'll get one soon? I'm glad though you broke your promise and reviewed this and that you liked it.

Eashi Shand: Nice to hear from you again.

Ruth was still disgusted by their new residence, if it could be called like that. Rose similarly sneered in antipathy, looking at the interior with loathing. There wasn't even an elevator in this damn flat and her feet already hurt from having to go take up the stairs leading to the second floor.

To emphasize her point her hands moved mechanically down to her feet, resting on her ankles.

What would her friends think of her? Rose's friends were of the same class as she and had the same expectations from life - that is marry rich or at least find yourself a nice boyfriends, go to study to some well-known university, pretend you're learning something and waste daddy's or your boyfriends – predictable spouse's - money.

And now this!

Despite their misgivings however, the flat wasn't actually as bad as they made it seem. Aside from a kitchen and a bathroom, it contained one for Rose alone, a double room for George and his wife, as well as some extra room, which – albeit small – could be used as either study or living room. Of course it was nothing compared to what they were used to.

"What are you doing?" Ruth asked; when she noted that her husband was unpacking their things laying out his shirts, folding them accurately and placing them in one shelve, one after the other. Ruth watched everything smoothly, being quite amused now.

"Excuse me," he said pushing his way past her.

Rose had gone to explore the other rooms, her finger moving over the dirty furniture. This must be a very cruel joke from her father.

James is never going to go out with me now.

Rose was aware of course that her father didn't like James very much, but she didn't care a bit about this. He was the perfect future husband and her mother was with her in this. James too came from a very prominent family and the two of them made the perfect match.

Well at least they had – until this moment…

Ruth meanwhile took a step back, observing her husband closely, who in her mind had gone completely mad. She wouldn't stay here, whatever George said, she simply wouldn't. There had to be some other way out.

"You should also take out your belongings, dear," George said occasionally stopping with what he was doing.

Ruth looked at him dumbfounded.

"But maybe it would be better, if you'd change clothes before," he added laughing up a little bit looking at her designer costume.

Couldn't his wife just for once have put on some normal clothing? Did she always have to show off what she had got?

Not surprisingly tough Ruth's face didn't change one bit.

"You know, we don't have any more servants. If you don't want your things all wrinkled-up, I suggest that you better get them out of the suitcases."

That having said, he returned his attention to what he had been doing before.

Rose had at this instant discovered the room she would seemingly be obtained to stay. There was a small bed standing near the window, a desk – the drawers of which she opened up one after the other, coming across some old books –of authors Rose had never heard about or probably had and had forgotten as soon as she did. There was a chair placed alongside, looking like it would break in two every minute and a very cheap copy of some supposed-like Indian carpet lying in the middle of the room.

"Good gods…how old were the owner's…"

Rose laughed, picking up another wipe of dust with her index finger. The window being open she could hear some children in the backyard screaming. She instantly closed it with a loud thumb, thinking about saying something to them.

No, they wouldn't listen anyway.

How am I supposed to get a good night's rest in this rat hole?

She didn't even want to know what other things were awaiting her and decided to go back to her parents to see what they were doing. When she entered the hallway she half expected her father to having already cleared up this mistake.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" she shrieked out, shocked at what she saw. "I'm not going to stay here for one more minute…," she turned to her mother then. "You should've seen the carpet…it was…argh…I bet even in the old castles they've better ones."

"I know, dear, I know," Ruth patted her on her shoulder in support.

Just what was her father doing, unpacking all his possessions? Was he really planning on remaining here? This couldn't be.

"I'm making myself at home, honey," he answered trying not to shout at her.

His daughter was sometimes really hitting his nerves.

Rose meanwhile stared at him in awe, not bothering to help him though. He couldn't be serious.

Ruth stepped back shaking her head in wonder, glad that she wasn't the only one, who thought that he was crazy. When marrying him and while living with him, he surely did have some strange ideas, but this was certainly beating everything.

"I'm glad, Rose, dear that you mentioned it to your father as well. I do believe however, it may be better, if we'll leave him alone now. Come with me, we'll go out and do some shopping. Didn't you say that you needed some new dress to go to the party with this young gentleman…," she stopped her finger moving to her mouth as if being in deep thought – "What was his name again?"

"James," Rose told her.

"Ah, yes, James…he's such a nice guy…don't you think so, darling?"

George's head shot up. In fact he hadn't listened at all.

"What…? ….Yes, sure…," he stammered not knowing what they had been talking about anyway.

"Your father is so funny sometimes; don't you think so, Rose?"

Both women laughed.

"Now, well, come on…it's time go…," Ruth said taking her daughter's wrist. "These shops aren't open the whole day," she whispered impatiently.

Rose giggled.

"I read about this store – Macy's – your father would've never let me go there. I did anyway and if I remember correctly its five floors...," Ruth explained to her daughter whose eyes grew wide in astonishment.

"All full of clothes, shoes and handbags?"

"Yes and jewellery as well…I promise you've never been to a more exquisite shop…"

Ruth was happy that her daughter was sharing her attitudes and that they had so much in common. Only if George, her husband wouldn't have been here – he always knew how to bring people in good mood back down to earth again, damaging their reveries.

"How are you going to pay?" his voice was soft, friendly even, considering in what situation they were in.

Both turned around, looking at him in wonder.

"I beg your pardon, darling," Ruth spoke up pretending she hadn't understood.

"You know very well what I'm talking about, Ruth. We don't have anything left for our needs, other than some old account books – which by the way aren't that much –and we'll run quickly out of it, if we don't do anything against it, that is living on like we did so far."

Ruth still hadn't grasped the seriousness of the situation.

"Darling, sometimes you're…"

He shoved away her hand from where it was touching his cheek.

"Let it be…darling…I hate this word and you know it. It makes be sound like some old, fat man, living in his palace with mistresses," his almost screamed now, something not happening very often, in fact not occurring at all in the past years as far as Ruth was concerned.

Normally George Dewitt Bukater was a paragon of staunchness and loyalty, his feelings never wavering on the outside.

"Daddy, what…?"

Her father's ears shrieked up at this high-pitched tone.

"And you I expect to be more serious, young lady. Your voice for example…"

"What about my voice, daddy?" Rose asked being slightly angry and hurt now.

"George, really, is this necessary?" Ruth stepped in to a rescue. "She's had it very difficult enough anyway."

He just laughed up.

"She's had it hard? She? Are we talking about the same girl here?"

"George…," Ruth tried to stop his outburst, but to no avail.

"I'm not finished. You've been pampering her around since she was born, buying her all those silly and stupid things, ever since the day she could first pronounce the term Versage…"

"It's Versace, daddy," Rose corrected him unmistakably proud of herself.

"I don't care a bit about that," he slammed his fist on the nearest table. "You've no idea about the real world, haven't you, dear? All you seem to care about is this stupid, idiotic Jeremy…"

"Daddy?" Rose looked at him taken aback by his sudden outburst. "He's name is James, daddy. I thought you liked him."

Her father shot her look that made her shut up.

"George, you're scaring the child."

George shook his head in both defeat and indifference. Without another word he let them stand where they did, heading to the other room.

"What are you doing?" Ruth asked.

"Sleeping, I need some rest…but if…," he turned to them pointing at both with his index finger. "If I should find one penny missing, you've both to answer me in this."

With that he slammed the door shut behind him, leaving them stunned.

"I'm sorry, honey that you had to witness this. Your father can be challenging at times, but you'll get used to it."

"Let's go shopping."

Rose tough didn't follow her, amazing Ruth.

"Rose, dear, what's wrong? Don't you want to buy yourself something new?"

Actually Rose was beyond going shopping at the moment. At first she needed to know some incidents.

"Is it true what daddy said?"

It couldn't be. They weren't poor now. It simply wasn't right. She refused to believe it.

"Your father sometimes has a habit of embroidering, this is…," Ruth tried to calm her down, but not with too much benefit.

"But it's the truth?" her eyes were dwelling up in tears, remembering all the dresses they had had to sell. In fact they had lied to her, telling her that it was just to help some orphanages.

She had to sit down.

"We're poor," Rose stated plain and simply. "We're really poor."

"No, we're not, dear, that's all a terrible mistake," Ruth sat down beside her daughter, an arm resting behind her back in an attempt to comfort her. "You'll see everything will be alright."

"But how can it?" Rose looked at her with questioning eyes.

At this very second, Ruth hated George for what he had done, refusing to admit her part in this misery. Surely she could've done with less expensive clothes. For Ruth Dewitt Bukater however, only the best was good enough.

And for my daughter certainly it is as well.

"Your father didn't mean it, anything of it. He was just tired."

'Don't you understand the money is gone…There will be no more expensive shopping for a long time to come.'

Ruth wasn't about to let her life being ruined or her husband to disturb the feelings of her sweet little daughter.

"Just don't think about it anymore. Everything is going to be fine."

Rose tried hard to push off her thoughts, at first unsuccessfully tough, but she trusted her mother in whatever she said. Ruth was the only person in the world - Rose felt - knew her by heart. She could tell her everything.

"You sure?" her voice was a bare whisper.

"Of course I'm certain, honey. Now dry those tears…," she handed her a handkerchief from out of her coat pocket. "Why don't you tell me about this boy from your school? The one you're so fond of."

"James?"

"Yes…about him…didn't you say that he was good at sports?"

"He's the quarterback in the football team."

Rose eyes suddenly were sad again, remembering the situation they were in now.

"Rose, dear, what is it?" Ruth looked at her concernedly. "I'm deeply sorry, if I should've upset you with…"

"No…no…you didn't….," she held up her hand. It wasn't her mother, who was the only one, whom she could always and honestly talk to. "James he…what is he going to think of me now?"

Obviously her daughter loved this boy very much and he was from a good family, a fact with which Ruth was very pleased to say the least. George shouldn't interfere in things that he had no knowledge off.

"I'm sure he won't mind. He'll love you just as much," Ruth patted her on her shoulder.

"Daddy doesn't seem to like him," Rose interjected.

"Your father just had some problems lately, but they're not as severe as he made them seem beforehand."

Ruth had understood by now that they wouldn't go shopping today, but she wasn't about to let George destroy their daughter's life, even if it was just by talking about all those awful things. Silently she kissed her daughter's forehead.

"You'll see it's not…"

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"I hope it's not that Brown woman again," Ruth mumbled under her breath, while walking over to the door.

It wasn't Molly, but some other woman standing in front of her.

"Yes?" Ruth asked waiting somehow impatiently for an answer.

"You must be our new neighbours. I'm Mrs Dawson, but you may call me Lauren," she held out her hand to shake.

Ruth took it, but couldn't resist wiping it off later on, something which Lauren pretended not to notice.

"Thanks, but I do believe Mrs Dawson will be alright for us. Isn't it, Rose?"

"Of course, mother…"

The other woman sighed, understanding right away that these two wouldn't be easy to handle. From looking at their clothes alone, she could tell that they weren't used to this kind of living.

They probably had had servants as well.

"What can I do for you?" Ruth added in fact not at all interested in the answer.

That's another reason why she had never want to live in a normal flat. There were just too many people bothering you.

"It's what about I can do for you…you'll see I live here with my family at number…"

Ruth shot her an impatient – now get it over with look – "Anyway I'd like to invite you to our ladies day. We'll usually start at six…"

"Ladies day?" Rose spoke up her attention suddenly aroused.

Not that she was particularly interested, but it was certainly better than spending the whole day in this rat hole.

"Ah Mrs Dawson this is my daughter, Rose," Ruth introduced her daughter, who stepped forwards.

Both shook heads to greet each other, still Lauren noticed some kind of misgivings again.

"Yes, we'll meet…that is Mrs Brown, Mrs DeRossi and myself…and just have some nice talks, you know...eat selfmade cakes... Your daughter may of course come too…Caitlin another girl, she'll be happy to have a companion, I think they must be almost the same age…it's supposed to be every Friday, always at another place…today it's my turn," she told them. "And I thought that you could maybe be the next."

"Certainly," Ruth sneered, while not having any intention at all to do so.

"Yes…sure…I've to go prepare things…I'd love to see you over at six. It's number 27, just around the corner," Lauren explained to them sensing that they didn't want to have her here.

"We'll think about it. I'm sorry, I don't want to sound rude, but…you'll see we've to unpack…," Ruth almost dragged her outside.

"Of course, I understand. Molly told me that you've just moved in. I hope you like your new home."

"It's for sure very different," Ruth got out pronouncing the word different in such a way that it could mean everything from – it's great to what a mess.

Lauren once more realized that her new neighbours certainly were no picnic.