Tionken is a fictional suburb in the city of Brisbane on the coast between Lytton and Wynnum. It's also roughly a thirty minute drive from the University of Queensland.

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January 7th 2016

Tionken, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia

Belle's loving mother, Colette, had died several years previous which had left Belle alone with her father. They'd never had any other family save for her father's half-brother, but she'd never met him, didn't know his name and apparently lived somewhere in New Zealand. Yes, Belle was alone. Moe French had done his best for his little girl at the start but then the drinking and the gambling had gotten worse. Belle often came home from school to find herself alone in an empty house and little to nothing in the fridge. At first she'd been heart broken, felt as though she'd lost both her parents but now fifteen years old Belle had gotten used to it. All that time alone was fantastic reading time, so many books to vanish into.

No matter what Belle told herself she was still lonely. Kids at school thought she was strange and avoided her thanks to the fact people had considered her mother crazy and Belle was quiet and bookish.

They'd not gone back to school after Christmas yet, she'd got a few more weeks until that happened so Belle had basically been home alone for a few days. The sun shone brightly in the sky punctuated by a cooling breeze and light cloud cover. A perfect day which drew Belle outside with a copy of 'Through The Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There' intent on reading on the swing.

The house was quite beautiful really, had a view of the ocean practically in walking distance and a vast back yard to enjoy. Her mother had grown roses all over the yard before she'd died, now though it was left to Belle to do her best. She'd managed to keep them alive but she'd not got her mother's green thumb. A shame, the garden had once been so vibrant and alive.

Most fifteen year olds stayed out with their friends but Belle wasn't like most, not even remotely, she sat out on that swing and read; it was her way of being close to her Mama. Colette had sat with her out there long ago and read to her so it was Belle's way of continuing the tradition despite her mother's death.

She'd gotten roughly two chapters into the book when the sound of a truck backing up drew her attention to the bottom of her yard. The French house shared a large hedge fence with their neighbor but it was constantly getting rented out to people for a couple of months. Some were on vacation while others were guest professors that would travel the short distance inland to the university. She wondered how long the new resident would stay, a month or two probably, most did.

While Belle's home was semi-large it was clearly old and hadn't had much work done on it in the past twenty years; the only reason they still had a home was because Colette had inherited it from her parents and Moe from his wife. The one across the way though, it sat atop a mound-like hill and had been modernized within and inch of its life. It had even got a bloody pool which Belle had been jealous about in the heat of summer. Large glass windows and rich wood finishes, she'd often wanted to go explore the place.

Whoever the new people were she hoped they weren't like the last couple. They'd been on vacation from what she'd been able to gather but all they'd done was scream and yell at one another about someone named 'Samantha'. Belle didn't know who the woman was but by some of the stuff that had been yelled Belle would have settled on mistress.

She set her book down and peered up over the hedge, not very hard since it had a big dip in it at one end, and tried to get a look at the new inhabitants. Blue orbs watched as men carried a few boxes into the house and the finally someone came into view. It was an older guy, not very tall with a cane and a suit that was much too black for an Australian climate. Belle couldn't see his face but she did like the way his hair brushed his shoulders, it was unusual, to her at least.

Belle watched a little longer but she never saw a wife, husband or anyone who could have been considered a partner. When she added that factor to him being in a suit he screamed visiting professor.

"At least he won't start screaming." She hoped.

With her curiosity satisfied for the time being Belle returned to her book completely unaware that her attention had drawn someone else's to her.

Belle read for several hours until her stomach started to rumble and she headed inside in search of an early dinner. The fridge wasn't all that impressive but there were eggs and some ham so she decided on an omelet. Over the years she'd mastered them quite well.

In the middle of the night, long after she'd gone to bed she heard the loud slam of the front door and the traditional thud as her Papa yanked off his shoes and dropped them. He stomped up the stairs, into his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Drunk then." She sighed quietly to herself.

He'd no doubt scare the crap out of her the next morning when he got up for work, off to pretend he wasn't an alcoholic. How Moe French managed to wash away the stench and pretend he was a fine, upstanding member of society Belle wouldn't ever know. It was almost like someone else went to work for him.

She pushed herself up to look out her window then, she'd always enjoyed staring up at the stars but instead the house across the way caught her attention. A quick glance at her bedside clock said it had just gone three in the morning and yet the lights were all still on over there. She couldn't help but wonder where this stranger had come from. Maybe he was secretly some magical prince who'd come for some anonymity like in one of those terrible Hallmark movies.

Belle chuckled. "I've read too may books, haven't I?"

When snoring sounded from the next room Belle sighed and settled back down on her side. Belle's life could have been far worse, she knew that. Her Papa had never hit her, hadn't ever humiliated her or hurt her in any way. Yes, he hissed at her sometimes but Belle knew he'd taken her mother's death hard, of course he had. Maybe that was just her making excuses for an emotionally neglectful father.

Belle lay there a time wondering what the man in the next house was like, did he have children? If so then how did he feel being away from them? In the end Belle slipped into sleep without even noticing. Slumber took her and dreams of the books she'd read comforted her.

The next morning she – surprisingly – didn't hear her father when he left and woke up feeling well rested and happy. Not unheard off but certainly unusual since Moe's drinking had gotten worse. The fifteen year old hopped out of bed and indulged herself in a long shower then dressed in a simple white dress. She padded down the stairs knowing she'd have the house to herself all day and rushed to her mother's record player which she'd hidden at the back of the coat closet so her father couldn't pawn it when he got drunk and desperate for gambling money. She set it up with a smile and didn't even need to pause a second to grab her Rumours by Fleetwood Mac and set it atop the turntable. Her mother had once had quite the collection and Belle had saved and hidden what she could.

The auburn-haired beauty twirled around and danced happily feeling as though her mother danced beside her. Belle spun across the living room, around a chair and into the kitchen where she was forced to stop lest she fall flat on her ass. The teen giggled to herself as the world spun past her and slowly calmed and stilled.

Those cerulean gemstones locked on something then, a small cupcake sat neatly on a plate on the kitchen table. With a breathy smile she approached and picked the cake, red velvet with cream cheese frosting and decorated with a tiny chocolate heart. Red velvet had always been her favorite. This was why she defended her father inside her mind, he had his problems there was no denying that but he did love her. Since her mother's death Moe hadn't said it, Belle suspected the words hurt too much, but every now and again he'd do something like this; his way of saying it.

The song continued and Belle threw open the patio doors from the kitchen, she grabbed her book from where she'd left it on the kitchen table as well as her cupcake and headed out to the swing. Oh so carefully she set the cupcake down while she found her page but soon took a large, indulgent bite of it and hummed happily.

Only when the record ended did Belle close her book. She changed it to David Bowie and went out to tend to her mother's roses. Yellow, red, pink, white, Colette had ensured every color was there growing. Belle watered them as she hummed along to Let's Dance.

It wasn't until she felt eyes on her that Belle halted in her movements, the song continued but Belle had ground to a tense halt. Why? She glanced up at the patio doors wondering if her Papa had come home early for some reason but no, the doorway stood empty. The fluffy calico cat that sometimes cut through their garden wasn't anywhere to be seen either. Then she spotted him, the newcomer sat on the bench just outside his rented house. He sat their quietly with a newspaper in his hands but his eyes were on her rather than the print. At first she wondered if the music was too loud but no one else had ever complained and the older man didn't look irritated. Belle tried to brush it off, it was just some strange occurrence, like they'd both glanced up at the same time and were now stuck staring at one another over a hedge. Slowly she shuffled the heavy watering can into one hand so she could raise the other and send him a polite wave, it took him a moment but the man waved back though far more mutely. He went back inside the house then and Belle didn't quite know what to make of the situation.

The next day Belle didn't see her new neighbor at all and his car wasn't there either. The day afterwards though there he was on that bench again with a newspaper and his eyes on her as Belle watered the rest of the garden; she remembered that day well because she'd soaked herself through with the hose. At first Belle hadn't thought much about the man in the next house, he always waved back at her and hadn't caused any problems. Belle still didn't know quite what to make of him, but almost every day she saw him. He didn't scare her, just had a morning tradition of sitting in his garden like Belle did; at least that was the conclusion she'd gone with.