Disclaimer : They're Victor Hugo's, not mine.
Author's Notes : I really really don't like this chapter, but it has the short reappearance of Marcelin and Madame Enjolras shows her true colours.. ……read and review please! I live for reviews : ).
And there are storms we cannot weather…
The next morning I was up bright and early – as always. I combed my hair in front of my new mirror, tidied my dress and washed my face. I left my bare little building and walked towards the shop.
I was there on time – and Philip showed me around. He also introduced me to the three girls I had seen the day before.
The tallest, prettiest girl was called Favourite. She had long dark hair that fell around her shoulders, dark eyes and white skin the colour of porcelain. She was greatly admired by everyone in the shop because she had lived in England. They said that's why they called her Favourite, but I never understood it. She came from a rich family, her father was a teacher, and she'd had her own room from the age of ten. Favourite was one of those girls who saw herself to be higher than everyone else, and she enjoyed being the leader.
Zephine was very petite with light brown hair that sprung around her face in curls. Marie would have called her "hyperactive" as she was frequently skipping, giggling, gossiping and squealing.
The quietest was Dahlia. A silent girl who I think only ever said a few words to me that first month. She followed Favourite like an obedient puppy, always doing as she was told.
All three wore silk and lace and , with no questions, accepted me as one of their own.
They called me "La Blonde" because of my beautiful hair.
Favourite was already chattering about a man called Thomas, who I guessed was the latest in a long list of men.
"You're so lucky!" cried Zephine. "I wish I could meet someone like Thomas! He's so handsome! I'm just stuck with Jaques!"
Favourite turned to me. "And what of you Fantine La Blonde? What man has taken your fancy?"
At the chance of a bit of gossip Zephine squealed and clapped her hands. "Oh yes! Who is it La Blonde?"
"No one" I said, blushing slightly.
Favourite shrugged, but Zephine looked shocked. "No man friend!!"
"Leave her alone Zephine" Dahlia spoke up. "She's not like you."
Taking no notice Zephine continued "well Jaques has a brother!"
"Zephine I really don't want – " I began, but reasoning with Zephine was like talking to a brick wall.
"He has a cousin too! And a few male friends!"
"Zephine…"
"And an uncle!!"
Philip broke in. "Fantine, your shift has finished."
Thankfully I slipped out.
From then on, Zephine's sole purpose in life seemed to be matchmaking. I was frequently left alone with brothers, cousins and friends of Jaques. The more I told her to stop, the more men arrived in the shop.
Paris still scared me, in a way. It was always busy, the streets were always a sea of people. I only felt safe in my room or in the shop. Tholomyes had cancelled our dinner arrangement, and I'd not heard from him again. But a strange package containing three silk dresses had appeared at my door addressed to "Just Fantine."
I was walking home from work, in my favourite blue dress when I heard a familiar name. One I'd thought I would never hear again.
"Marcelin!" somebody shouted. "Come here!"
I looked around, not daring to believe it. But there he was. The same golden hair, the same blue eyes. He was with a maid I didn't recognise. I wanted to run to him, and hug him – but I couldn't. The maid was already giving me the strangest looks, probably because my eyes didn't leave him for a moment.
Just by chance he turned in my direction and caught sight of me. A smile broke out on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but the maid scooped him up.
"Let's go Marcelin" she said, giving me a wary glance.
"No!" he cried, wriggling in her arms. "Fantine!"
One of his sleeves rolled down, revealing an ugly purple bruise that covered most of his arm. I winced, seeing that his father was the same as ever.
The maid hurried quickly off through the streets, I followed them (keeping in the shadows) to one of the large town houses where wealthy families came to stay for the summer.
Madame was waiting by the door, and a strange look passed over her face when she saw the maid carrying her son.
"Janette?" she asked. "What is the matter?"
The maid placed Marcelin by the door and he spun round, his eyes searching the streets.
His mother touched him on the shoulder. "Your sisters are upstairs, why don't you join them?"
Marcelin didn't protest and with one last glance, entered the house. Janette and his mother followed.
I darted from my hiding place, across the street and along the wall of the house. I stopped underneath a small window (which I assumed was the parlour) when I heard Madame's voice.
"Janette?" she said. "Why were you holding Marcelin like that? He is six now, I don't appreciate…"
"Madame!" Janette interrupted. "I apologise, but I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"A girl followed us. She was only seventeen or so. Marcelin recognised her."
"What did she look like?" Madame sounded concerned.
"He knew her name Madame. He called her Fantine."
There was a smash, which made me jump.
Madame spoke, and her voice shook. "Oh, how clumsy of me. I am very sorry Janette."
"It's fine Madame. Just a bit of water. I'll get rid of this glass, don't want the children stepping in it."
"No, no, of course not."
A door opened and closed. There was a brief silence, then the sound of someone crying.
I reached up, placed my hands on the windowsill and pulled myself off the ground so I could see through the window.
Madame was curled up in a chair in the corner of the room, crying sadly.
I felt myself falling, and quickly kicked my foot into the wall and scrambled upwards.
The noise startled Madame and she looked at the window – her eyes coming to a stop on my face.
I expected to be greeted, or at least pulled through the window – but Madame just stared at me.
"Why are you here Fantine?" she asked.
"I live here. In Paris I mean."
"That wasn't what I meant."
I understood "I wanted to see Marcelin."
"You have seen him" she said. "You saw him more than I did. When I did see him, all he'd talk about was you."
She placed her cold hands over mine, which still clung to the windowsill. "You always had an influence on him. Even more than me. And I'm his mother!"
She dug her nails into my hands, and I cried out.
"Leave us alone!" Madame growled.
"But…" I protested.
"But I took you in? I liked you Fantine, at first. You were just an errand girl and you went too far."
She pushed her hands forward and I fell, landing on the spot where I had been standing. Above me, Madame closed the windows.
Stunned, I got up and wandered back into the streets – straight into a figure.
"Just Fantine! We must stop meeting like this!"
"Tholomyes…"
"I see you like the dresses"
"Very much so, thank you."
He looked at me solemnly. "What's the matter? Why is your hand bleeding?"
I glanced at my hands and they were bleeding, from five little cuts on each set of knuckles. In my dreamlike state I hadn't noticed.
"What happened?"
"I – nothing."
He looked uncomfortable. "Have you eaten?"
I thought for a moment. "Not since yesterday….Tholomyes I should be getting home."
"Not when you haven't eaten for a whole day. Come with me" he offered me his arm.
Sighing, I linked my arm through his and we set off through Paris.
