Moving Inside:
It was a bright early morning in the city of Brussels. A young girl was walking down Labrador Road to a flat of apartments, carrying a series of suitcases.
Trixie was a young woman in her early twenties. She had fiery orange hair that reached just below her shoulders and had slightly curly ends and bright brown eyes. She often loved to wear a woolly indigo cardigan over a white cotton blouse with blue flowers and a darker blue short skirt, white socks and black shoes. She never went anywhere without her father Tintin's watch or her mother Lexie's golden pendent.
She reached the end of the road. She knocked on the green door. It partly opened revealing a woman with a straight face, a triangular nose that poked out, round glasses and black hair tied back in a bun. "Who is this?"
"It's Trixie,"
"Oh my. That wouldn't be TIntin's young lassie would it?" she sounded surprised.
"That would be it,"
"Come in! Come in!" Mrs. Finch fully opened the door allowing Trixie inside and into the hall.
"I see you've come to live in your childhood home,"
"Yes," the girl nodded with a straight smile.
"You've grown up since the last time I saw you Trixie," Mrs. Finch said. "You look so different,"
"Has it really been that long?" Trixie asked with a bit of a chuckling.
"Fifteen years is all it takes for a young girl like you to blossom. You look so much like your mother. And I can see you've inherited your father's brown eyes and your sense of humour,"
Trixie managed a small smile.
"Well, why don't I take you up," Finch offered.
"I'd like that very much Mrs. Finch," she gratefully said.
Mrs. Finch led her up the stairs, helping her carrying her suitcases. The apartment was the first room on the fifth floor, she took out a key and unlocked the door. She allowed Trixie to walk inside first. The moment she walked inside; Trixie took a moment to take it the sight of the room she hadn't seen in years. It was very much like how she remembered it. It hadn't changed a bit.
"Well, why don't I let you get unpacked? Would you like some help?"
"That's okay Mrs. Finch," Trixie gently refused. "Thanks for showing me up,"
Mrs. Finch left and closed the door behind her. Once she did, Trixie walked into the nearest room, into her late parents' bedroom. It was just as how she had remembered. She remembered their bed that she used to jump into and wake them up every morning. They were just distant but loving memories.
She unpacked her bags and filled in all the drawers and her mother's old wardrobe. She then changed the covers and tied everything up.
A few hours later, she heard the telephone ringing. She lifted it up to her heard
"Hey Uncle Hank," she said.
"How are you getting settled in?" he asked.
"Fine. I've just unpacked. And I've just bought some food and a couple of other things,"
"Good. I would have called you sooner, but I just thought…" he paused.
"That's okay Uncle. I understand," Trixie understood. She took a moment to pull herself together. "Anyways, how's Carina? Is she enjoying Aunt Alex's old apartment?"
"Yep. She is so ecstatic about how wonderful it looks. She just cannot wait to start her career. Anyways, how about at six, we come over?"
"That would be lovely uncle. Thanks," Trixie said. "How would you two like to have dinner here tonight as well?" she offered. "There's hasn't been a dinner in about fifteen years, so I thought why not tonight?"
"That would lovely Trix," Hank called her by her surname. "Okay. See you later," Hank bid a due then he hung up the phone. Trixie put it down slowly and sighed.
Ever since her parents' mysterious deaths, Trixie was raised by her mother's elder brother Henry or 'Hank' as he liked to be call alongside his own daughter Carina. For her future career, Carina was striving to be an aspiring artist. She dreamed of painting landscapes, objects, plants and animals and sell them at her art stool in the market square. It was a passion she had inherited from her deceased mother Alexander, who died in a bomb attack when she was an infant. Although the papers claimed it was an accident, Carina as well as her father and cousin believed there was so much more to what happened that tragic day.
It was difficult for Trixie, growing up without her parents after losing them at such a young age. She missed them greatly. She missed them so much that she always wore the pendent and held onto the watch to keep them close by. And not a day went by that she didn't think of them.
A few hours by passed and it was four. Trixie had cooked up some meat, some potatoes and vegetables and gravy. She set the table up and lit some candles.
She heard the knocking at the door and went to get it. Standing outside was a man in his fifties with black-greying hair and brown eyes with a shrivelled postured and clothed by a brown suit.
"Hi Uncle," she greeted, bringing him into a hug.
"Hello Trixie," an excitable cousin said, pulling her into a hug as she finished hugging his father.
"Hello Carina," Trixie happily greeted, returning the hug.
Carina was a sweet pretty girl like her cousin. She had medium length curly black hair and brown eyes. She was often seen wearing a short cyan dress with high heels and a green cardigan and a matching green flower clip clipped to hold it partly back.
"I see you've settled in," Carina said, gazing at the apartments. "It looks quite lovely,"
"Thanks," Trixie said. "Thank you both for coming here,"
"It was our pleasure Trixie," Hank said fatherly.
"Well…" Trixie started. "Dinner is set up. Anybody hungry?"
The three sat down and they dined together on the delicious food. Trixie was quite a good cook, another feature she'd inherited from her mother. It was scrumptious.
"Well Trixie, what are you going to do as your career?" Carina asked, once they had finished and were now letting their food settle in their stomachs. "Have you thought of one?"
"Yes I have," Trixie answered. "Aside from preparing dinner, I went to have an audition for it,"
"Well, what is it?" Hank asked.
Trixie took a deep breath and told him here answer. ""I've started to follow in my father's footsteps and work as a journalist,"
Carina looked excited but Hank looked a little more shocked than surprised.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked uncertainly.
"I love to write about loads of things," Trixie said. "It's my favourite hobby to do,"
"Trixie, I'm just concerned about whether this career is safe for you,"
"Dad," Carina said, disappointed with her father's lack of faith in her cousin. "Trixie can do this if she wants to. It's her choice,"
"Uncle, I appreciate your concern. But nothing is going to happen," Trixie assured.
"What if this career gets you killed? Like it did to your dad?"
"Dad," Carina snapped. "Please?"
Hank saw that Trixie was somewhat fragile with his words. He instantly took it back and calmed down.
"Dad, that career didn't cause anything," Carina tried to reason. "So Trix, when do you start?" she asked, wanting to alter the subject a bit. "When do you get your first assignment?"
"About a week later. For the week since moving back here, I just want to get settled back here again. This place, it is has too many memories. I need to clear my head,"
"Are you sure you want to live here?" Hank asked, wanting to make things up to her niece "You could always tell Mrs. Finch that you'd like to live somewhere else,"
"I'm not going to do that uncle. It may hurt a bit living here, but I have to stay here," she gazed around the room. "Sometimes I feel they're still here. I need to stay here. It's the closest thing I'll ever to having them near them still,"
Carina looked at her sadly. She placed a hand on her cousins to comfort her. She knew exactly how she felt. She wanted to live in her mother's former apartment too as like Trixie she wanted to live somewhere where she could be close to her mother.
"Well I hope Trixie that you'll enjoy your job," Carina hoped. "I cannot wait to start reading your articles or whatever you write,"
"Well I must say Carina that I cannot wait to see your artwork soon," Trixie said admirably. "Have you already started painting?"
"Yep," Carina nodded. "I've even got a spare room in my apartment which I'm goanna keep them,"
"Like some sort of home gallery?"
"In a way. When I sell my paintings, I'm goanna use my money to buy loads of cool pieces of artwork from around the world and put them in that room. Then it will be like a sort of home-gallery,"
"Well I'm very proud of my two girls," Hank said proudly. "You're both grown women now. And I know your mothers couldn't be prouder," he aimed his next sentence at his niece. "And your father too,"
Trixie managed to let a single tear falling down her cheek. Nonetheless, she couldn't wait for what the future had in store. The family of three finished their dinner and then toasted on some wine. When it turned ten in the evening, Trixie said goodbye to her uncle and cousin.
"Bye guys. I love you both," Trixie kissed her uncle's head and her cousin's cheek. Then she waved them off as they departed away from Labrador Road. She went back upstairs, tidied up the dishes and the forks and then went off to bed. Whatever waited in the future, she couldn't wait for it. She wondered of what her dream of writing like her father might do.