54

Gavroche reacted quite well to the notion of moving; the next day, they took him to see the apartment, and he quite liked it. He especially liked the idea of having more space to run around in, and a bigger room to sleep in, as long as he could decorate his bedroom to his own specifications.

They agreed to that (he was sleeping in what was the dining area, which they had planned on decorating anyway, so it didn't really matter). They then informed Éléonore of their decision, and began to arrange their stuff to move it over to the other apartment.

Gavroche had pointed out that they could just conjure up new stuff, rather than going through the effort of moving it all, but Éponine hadn't liked that idea; she had found herself quite attached to some of the things they had made, such as their couch, the first thing that the two of them had ever tried to conjure.

With their own belongings in mind, Éponine and Inès set about redecorating the sitting room. They changed the colour scheme from the bright, headache-inducing red to a subtler duck egg blue and white. The dark mahogany furniture was altered by Inès so that it was paler and blonde, and they got rid of some of the furniture to make way for the table and chairs from Éponine and Gavroche's apartment.

Once this was done, they set about sorting out Gavroche's bedroom, and then Éponine's. It occurred to Éponine after she had been shown around the flat that she hadn't seen a room that would be appropriate for her; the only other candidate would be what used to be Fantine's study, but Éponine had promised to leave that room intact.

When she raised the issue with Inès, the other girl looked very apologetic. "Sorry," she said. "There's a spare room through there. I didn't think to show you the other day – it's empty. We've never used it – Fantine decorated it before I moved in but you know how Fantine's decorating is, so I didn't really want it for myself. It's a bit small. I'll show you."

The spare room was accessed through another small door in the sitting room. It had bare wooden floorboards, and the walls were painted a bright, shocking yellow. It was smaller than the other rooms, and possibly a tiny bit smaller than the one in her old apartment, but Éponine didn't mind; it had a window overlooking the garden of the house behind, which was quite a pretty view, and once she had brought the colour of the walls down to a paler, more buttery yellow she was quite happy with it.

Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras and Bahorel agreed to help them move their furniture. Bahorel griped that it would be easier for them to conjure new furniture, to Inès' delight at having someone on her side, but he quietened down after Combeferre sent a rather pointed look in his direction.

Between them all, they managed to get most of their furniture moved across fairly soon. It wasn't long before they had decided to finish for the day; they found themselves sprawled over the sitting room, tired and chatting and laughing. Éponine sat with her arm around Gavroche's shoulders, and her other hand tangled with Courfeyrac's, something that had not gone unnoticed by the rest of them.

"Thank you all for your help today," Éponine said, through a yawn. She gave Gavroche's shoulders a squeeze. "We've only got some of the beds to move tomorrow –"

"Maybe I could help with that," an unfamiliar voice cut in.

Everyone's heads swung towards the source of it. A boy was stood in the doorway. Éponine recognised him instantly: tall and gangling, not quite an adult yet, with a shock of yellow hair, familiar eyes and a clean, purplish slash across his throat. He was leaning against the door frame with his arms folded over his chest.

"One of you left the door open," he said, by way of explanation. "I did knock. Or at least, I think I did. I wanted a word with Inès."

Éponine groped in her head for his name – it was one of Inès' brothers, the older one, the more annoying one, the one who had been trying to pick fights – Arnaud.

Éponine looked towards Inès. She was watching her brother. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were angry; maybe more than that, actually, maybe furious was a better word. Her limbs looked stiff.

"Get out," Inès said, the words growing more high pitched. "Get out!"

Arnaud rolled his eyes. "I'm not here to fight," he said.

Inès scrambled to her feet and just like that, the rest of them were moving, too.

Éponine was the fastest, intercepting Inès before she could get to Arnaud. Éponine placed her hands on Inès' shoulder. "No more fighting," she said, in a low voice.

"Good idea," Arnaud said. "Our mother hasn't stopped talking about it. Neither has Gabrielle. She hates you, Inès." He sounded so happy about it.

"Get out," Bahorel said, his hands curling into fists. He took a threatening step towards Arnaud.

The smaller man didn't move at all. He didn't even look at Bahorel; his eyes were firmly fixed on Inès.

"I just want a word with Inès," he repeated. "With my sister. It's important."

"I'm not your sister," Inès spat, her fingers wrapping around Éponine's wrists and trying to pry her hands away.

"Inès, please," Éponine said, and her eyes met Combeferre's over Inès' head. With a small nod Combeferre strode forwards and placed his hands on Inès' shoulders, turning her around so that her grip on Éponine broke.

Éponine turned towards Arnaud, planting her hands on her hips. "I think you should leave," she said. "Now. You're upsetting Inès."

Arnaud's mouth twisted into something like a smile. "You're a proper little guard dog, aren't you?" he said. "I think I understand why Gabrielle wanted to smash your face in."

There was an exclamation from behind them that sounded like Courfeyrac; barely a moment later, he had appeared at Éponine's side. "Now, look here –" he began, but Éponine placed a hand on his elbow that silenced him.

"It's all right," she said. "I don't think much of how you described me, but yes, I suppose I am. I like Inès, and she is my friend, and you are not talking to her today. You will talk to her when she wants to talk to you, understood?"

He didn't respond. His gaze flickered to Courfeyrac, who was still stood tensely next to her, and then his smirk widened.

"It seems the guard dog has more dogs on hand," he said. Then his eyes swivelled back to her. "You've changed your dress."

She raised her eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"Your dress," he said. "You were wearing something different the last time we met." His eyes dragged from her feet up to her chest, and she felt a little shiver of disgust ripple down her spine. She tightened her grip on Courfeyrac's arm. "I must say, I think I prefer the old one. More on show. More appropriate for a common who-"

"That is it," Éponine said. She strode forwards and roughly grabbed Arnaud by his arms. "Get out."

She almost wasn't able to move him, but she managed to shove him hard enough that he staggered backwards into the entrance hall. She kept a hand on his shirt.

"I am no more scared of you than I am of your mother or your sister," she said, her voice low but clear, so that he could hear her properly. "I have dealt with far scarier men than you, Arnaud. You're nothing compared to the company I kept when I was alive, understood? So stop trying to intimidate me, or Inès. She will talk to you when she's ready, so please, just leave." She opened the door with one hand and shoved him out of it with the other.

But before she could slam the door shut in his face, he put his foot in the way.

"Please," he said, and now there was a touch of desperation in his voice. "Just let me –"

"Move your foot," she said.

"Pass on a message, then," he said. "Tell Inès – just tell her – please, it's one word –"

"Move your foot," she said, a little sharper.

"Pierre!" Arnaud suddenly shouted. "Inès, Pierre!"

Éponine managed to shove the door shut as he moved backwards.

Then she took a step away from it, turning on her heel back towards the sitting room.

Inès' face was pale, and her eyes were wide. As Éponine watched, she mouthed the name that her brother had just shouted, almost as if it was a forbidden word.

But Éponine's view was then blocked by Courfeyrac, who had come to stand in front of her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, voice soft.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "As I said – I've dealt with worse than him."

Something passed over Courfeyrac's face at her words; something sad and perhaps a little tender, and she had to clear her throat and move around him.

Inès was still looking very shaken, and when she reached up to brush some hair out of her face her hand was trembling. "I'm all right," she said.

"They really are persistent, aren't they?" Combeferre said, his voice dark.

"Perhaps you should have another word with Éléonore?" Enjolras suggested. "Remember when Éponine had that trouble with that man –"

"Douvillier?" Éponine sighed. "I'd forgotten about him."

"Éléonore mentioned a sort of...police service, I think?" Enjolras said. "They may be able to help."

"Or I could just send them back across the river," Éponine tried to joke, but it was weak. She sighed and wrapped her arms around Inès. The hug was very brief, because not long after Inès pulled away with more protestations for how she was all right.

"I think that you handled that quite well," Inès said. "I doubt Arnaud was expecting you to do that."

"He had no right to be in here," Éponine said. "This is our home."

"I don't think I want to talk to him," Inès said.

"I don't blame you," Bahorel muttered. He still looked angry. "Who does he think he is, walking in here like that?"

"It's Arnaud," Inès said. "I never did like him, not really. Anyway..." She tried to smile, but there was still something troubled in her expression. "Shall we leave? There's no point in us still being here."

There was a bustle as the men collected their coats and the two girls put on their shawls. The troubled expression did not leave Inès' face the entire time.

"Is everything all right?" Éponine asked her in a low murmur. "You look..."

"Pierre was our brother," Inès said. "Our youngest brother. He's still alive. He's the only one still alive, and the one my mother chose to keep with her when we all separated."

"What does he have to do with anything?" Éponine said. "Why would Arnaud shout that at you?"

"I'm not sure," Inès said. "But..." She bit her lip. "When we all separated, it was – it was a very...a very dark time. I know that sounds very dramatic, but it's true." She knotted her shawl in one quick, practised move. "It happened because we were all starving, we had no money, we were so poor and we hadn't anyone to bring money in anymore, not after..." She trailed off. "My mother used to be a proper mother. Very protective. She'd have done anything. Still would, I think. But in those days, she made a decision, and she wasn't secretive about it. She chose Pierre, because he was youngest, and...Well, I suppose she turned her back on the rest of us. It was easier to feed one child than seven. I can understand her logic now, but at the time..." Inès' brow furrowed. "I hated Pierre for a long time. A part of me still does. But it's resentment more than anything."

"And what could that mean...now?" Éponine said.

"I don't...I'm not sure," Inès admitted. "I think I'd have to talk to Arnaud. But I don't want to."

"So don't," Éponine advised. "It'll only upset you."

"It must be important though," Inès said. "Arnaud's the only one who hasn't really tried contacting me before...The fact that he's tried..."

"Let's not over think it now," Éponine suggested, realising that the men and Gavroche were watching them and waiting. "We can talk about this again another time, all right?"

Inès nodded, and the two girls smiled at each other before turning back towards their friends.