Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all, together with Bloomsbury, Scholastic
and Warner Brothers. I make no money out of this
The house Jack built
Chapter five. Maude
Maude stood by the kitchen table, and put the ingredients out of the paper bag. She had just been to the apothecary to buy what she needed for Queenie's Pepper-up potion. She was ill again; she often was, especially in the winter. The damp and dark Alley was not good for her health, Maude thought worryingly.
But right now they did not have any alternatives. She and John had saved a little money in the hope of offering the children a better place to live, like her own childhood house in the village where she grew up. Then he had died, leaving her with four children. She had pinched and scraped, but the savings soon dwindled into nothing. Even though she missed them, she was glad that Mark and Tim were at Hogwarts. It was expensive enough with two growing children in the house.
She pushed the thoughts of John away, feeling bitterness rise in her throat like bile. Liars. The whole Alley was filled with lying busybodies who knew no better entertainment than to stick their noses in other people's business. She hated this place, hated it fiercely, but she had no other place to go.
If those ugly lies hadn't been thrown at him, he would still be here with them. They could have saved him, called for the Healers. She would have been cooking his dinner right now. She did not know who the liar was, but she walked with her head held high outside, to show whomever it was that she wasn't broken yet.
But the nights were lonely and bitter when Queenie and Geoff lay sleeping in their beds.
A few weeks after John was gone, she had managed to get a job at Madam Malkin's. Only two days a week, and the salary was ridiculously low. No wonder the employees came and went. But it was enough to pay the rent, and some food for the children. But Geoff needed new shoes, and he grew like weed right now. He was going to be a tall boy, just like his father had been.
He was playing outside with the other children, in the icy Alley. He would run and then stop suddenly, and slide on the ice. He looked a little peculiar wearing Queenie's cloak that was far too big for him, and her shoes, stuffed with old copies of the Daily Prophet. But so did the others. Poverty was nothing to be ashamed of in the Alley, were they all shared the same misfortune.
She paused to watch them. Geoff was good at sliding, something he was very proud of. And he needed to feel that, being the smallest in the gang wasn't always easy. He was going to turn five this winter, just a week before Queenie turned nine.
She was grinding the beetlewings to powder when she saw Dung fall right on his backside on the slippery ice. She couldn't help it, and snickered softly. Not exactly the most elegant of them, Dung. Now he rubbed his butt with his hands and looked embarrassed. Geoff said something to him, and displayed one of his near-perfect slides. Dung gave him a stiff smile, picked up a package from the ground and walked towards the house. A minute later he knocked on the door.
"Jack said I should take this to ya."
He gave her the package, and inside it was a chicken. She smiled grateful to him. "Tell him I said thanks."
"Can I see Queenie?"
"Sure. Just hang your clothes on the nail, I don't want any mess on my floor."
He did as she told him, and trotted into the bedroom. Maude sat down the powdered beetles, and started cutting up the roots. He was kind, Jack.
She did not know how long she could keep it going. When she bought the boots for Geoff she would be broke. No money to buy food, or coal to keep them warm.
There was someone interested, though. She had met him at the pub one night, when she had left Queenie to look after Geoff and gone for a drink. Sometimes she just had to go out and meet people, even though she felt a sting of guilty conscience for the children.
He had come up to her table, where she was sitting talking with Emma. Emma was a good friend, and more or less in the same situation as Maude was, being a single mother to two boys. Dung had walked past, and Emma had hooked him and made him sing that horrible welsh song. She loved Emma, but she could be stupid some times; didn't she understand that songs like these where the last thing Maude needed right now? Dung was nine, he did not understand. But what was Emma's excuse?
She had been angry and sad, and then he turned up. Friendly and generous. Not rich, of course; no one in the Alley was, but his clothes had been whole and clean, his appearance tidy. His name was Mike Laughlin, a nice name she thought.
She had met him many times since, always at the pub. She had made it clear that she was not interested in an affair, if he wanted her it would be permanently, with four children who needed a father. He had understood, and he still was interested. She had been slightly surprised at that, had expected him to run as fast as he could in the other direction. He was serious.
It is too soon.
'Would you rather see your children starve?'
"Queenie wants a cup'a water." Dung's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she filled water in Queenie's cup and gave him. The boy hurried back to his friend, and she watched him go with thoughtful eyes.
It's not about you anymore, Maude.
She would do it. She felt nothing for this man, but he seemed nice enough. He had treated Dung nicely at the pub; he would probably be kind to her children. And they needed someone to look up to, a man in their lives. She couldn't point the finger at what she needed, though. But sympathy wasn't the worst starting point for a marriage, she could learn to love him, with time.
John would never come back. He was gone, and she would never again find anyone to fill his shoes. It could never be the same, but perhaps it could be good anyway. With time.
She heated up the cauldron on the stove, and added the water. Soon it was boiling, and she put the roots inside. She had been good at potions when she was at school, and now she had use for it. Making the potion herself saved her five Knut's, compared to the prize in the apothecary. She could have made a living of it, had she finished school.
With all the ingredients added, she turned off the heat and waited for it to cool down. In an hour Queenie would be sitting in the kitchen again. Everything one learns comes in handy some day.
Carefully she filled a glass with the potion, and added a spoon of sugar to make it taste better. She stirred, and brought it into the bedchamber. Queenie was tucked in, and Dung sat beside her on the bed. Queenie was drawing on some sheets Maude had got from Emma, a pretty drawing of a witch on her broomstick. Dung had drawn a scary monster with lots of teeth.
"Where did you get the crayons from?" Maude asked surprised.
"Dung gave them to me. Wasn't that nice?"
Dung blushed slightly. "It's really your birthday present," he admitted. "But I thought you could 'ave them now, you bein' sick and all."
"That's nice, Dung! Now it's time for your potion." Maude took a spoon, and gave Queenie a healthy dose. The girl made a grimace, and Dung laughed when her hair started smoking.
"Can Dung 'ave a dose too?"
"Have, dear. Remember your language." Maude sighed, and gave Dung a little dose. It was good to hear Queenie laughing again, though. "I'll save the rest for this evening," she said firmly, and put the lid on. "Come out when you're feeling better."
Back in the kitchen she tidied up, and cleaned out the cauldron. Then she found some potatoes and carrots in the cupboard, and started making chicken soup.
Thank Merlin for Jack. He had always been kind to her, and after John had died he had helped her out several times. Dung often came with a little something from Jack, some food or a bottle of Butterbeer for the children to enjoy. She appreciated it more than she could ever say, but when she thanked him he would just look embarrassed.
There was a knock on the window. She looked outside, and saw Geoff standing there with the stick he had used to catch her attention. She opened the window.
"Where have the others got to?" she asked when she saw he was alone outside.
"They've left. They said I couldn't come, that I was too small!" He wiped his nose with his sleeve in indignation. Then he forgot about them. "Look at me, Mum!" Once more he did the slide.
"Ah! That's my boy!"
His face was shining with joy. "I can dance!" He jumped around on the ice with his too-big shoes.
"You be careful now!"
He didn't hear her, he was too busy jumping, making some strange pattern with his feet. Suddenly one of the shoes got in the way, and he fell on the slippery surface.
"Ouch. You all right?" she asked.
With a miserable expression on his face he got up, rubbing his chest. "I broke my 'eart," he said.
She was taken aback. "What did you say?"
"I broke my 'eart," he repeated. He sniffed, and ran the arm of his sister's big cloak over his nose again. "I'm not crying," he added hastily.
"You'll have to be careful, Geoff. Want to come inside?"
He didn't answer, but got back to his dancing. He focused so hard that his tongue was sticking out between his lips. Silently she closed the window to keep the warmth inside. If Queenie was the one of the children who was most like John, then Geoff was the one most like her. But then again, perhaps she read too much into it. She stood by the window with her arms crossed, looking at him.
'We dance on the ice without heeding the warnings, don't we, Geoff? And then we fall and break our hearts. And it hurts so much, and it feels like we can't ever get up again. But we do, we go on. And we'll never stop dancing.'
The house Jack built
Chapter five. Maude
Maude stood by the kitchen table, and put the ingredients out of the paper bag. She had just been to the apothecary to buy what she needed for Queenie's Pepper-up potion. She was ill again; she often was, especially in the winter. The damp and dark Alley was not good for her health, Maude thought worryingly.
But right now they did not have any alternatives. She and John had saved a little money in the hope of offering the children a better place to live, like her own childhood house in the village where she grew up. Then he had died, leaving her with four children. She had pinched and scraped, but the savings soon dwindled into nothing. Even though she missed them, she was glad that Mark and Tim were at Hogwarts. It was expensive enough with two growing children in the house.
She pushed the thoughts of John away, feeling bitterness rise in her throat like bile. Liars. The whole Alley was filled with lying busybodies who knew no better entertainment than to stick their noses in other people's business. She hated this place, hated it fiercely, but she had no other place to go.
If those ugly lies hadn't been thrown at him, he would still be here with them. They could have saved him, called for the Healers. She would have been cooking his dinner right now. She did not know who the liar was, but she walked with her head held high outside, to show whomever it was that she wasn't broken yet.
But the nights were lonely and bitter when Queenie and Geoff lay sleeping in their beds.
A few weeks after John was gone, she had managed to get a job at Madam Malkin's. Only two days a week, and the salary was ridiculously low. No wonder the employees came and went. But it was enough to pay the rent, and some food for the children. But Geoff needed new shoes, and he grew like weed right now. He was going to be a tall boy, just like his father had been.
He was playing outside with the other children, in the icy Alley. He would run and then stop suddenly, and slide on the ice. He looked a little peculiar wearing Queenie's cloak that was far too big for him, and her shoes, stuffed with old copies of the Daily Prophet. But so did the others. Poverty was nothing to be ashamed of in the Alley, were they all shared the same misfortune.
She paused to watch them. Geoff was good at sliding, something he was very proud of. And he needed to feel that, being the smallest in the gang wasn't always easy. He was going to turn five this winter, just a week before Queenie turned nine.
She was grinding the beetlewings to powder when she saw Dung fall right on his backside on the slippery ice. She couldn't help it, and snickered softly. Not exactly the most elegant of them, Dung. Now he rubbed his butt with his hands and looked embarrassed. Geoff said something to him, and displayed one of his near-perfect slides. Dung gave him a stiff smile, picked up a package from the ground and walked towards the house. A minute later he knocked on the door.
"Jack said I should take this to ya."
He gave her the package, and inside it was a chicken. She smiled grateful to him. "Tell him I said thanks."
"Can I see Queenie?"
"Sure. Just hang your clothes on the nail, I don't want any mess on my floor."
He did as she told him, and trotted into the bedroom. Maude sat down the powdered beetles, and started cutting up the roots. He was kind, Jack.
She did not know how long she could keep it going. When she bought the boots for Geoff she would be broke. No money to buy food, or coal to keep them warm.
There was someone interested, though. She had met him at the pub one night, when she had left Queenie to look after Geoff and gone for a drink. Sometimes she just had to go out and meet people, even though she felt a sting of guilty conscience for the children.
He had come up to her table, where she was sitting talking with Emma. Emma was a good friend, and more or less in the same situation as Maude was, being a single mother to two boys. Dung had walked past, and Emma had hooked him and made him sing that horrible welsh song. She loved Emma, but she could be stupid some times; didn't she understand that songs like these where the last thing Maude needed right now? Dung was nine, he did not understand. But what was Emma's excuse?
She had been angry and sad, and then he turned up. Friendly and generous. Not rich, of course; no one in the Alley was, but his clothes had been whole and clean, his appearance tidy. His name was Mike Laughlin, a nice name she thought.
She had met him many times since, always at the pub. She had made it clear that she was not interested in an affair, if he wanted her it would be permanently, with four children who needed a father. He had understood, and he still was interested. She had been slightly surprised at that, had expected him to run as fast as he could in the other direction. He was serious.
It is too soon.
'Would you rather see your children starve?'
"Queenie wants a cup'a water." Dung's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she filled water in Queenie's cup and gave him. The boy hurried back to his friend, and she watched him go with thoughtful eyes.
It's not about you anymore, Maude.
She would do it. She felt nothing for this man, but he seemed nice enough. He had treated Dung nicely at the pub; he would probably be kind to her children. And they needed someone to look up to, a man in their lives. She couldn't point the finger at what she needed, though. But sympathy wasn't the worst starting point for a marriage, she could learn to love him, with time.
John would never come back. He was gone, and she would never again find anyone to fill his shoes. It could never be the same, but perhaps it could be good anyway. With time.
She heated up the cauldron on the stove, and added the water. Soon it was boiling, and she put the roots inside. She had been good at potions when she was at school, and now she had use for it. Making the potion herself saved her five Knut's, compared to the prize in the apothecary. She could have made a living of it, had she finished school.
With all the ingredients added, she turned off the heat and waited for it to cool down. In an hour Queenie would be sitting in the kitchen again. Everything one learns comes in handy some day.
Carefully she filled a glass with the potion, and added a spoon of sugar to make it taste better. She stirred, and brought it into the bedchamber. Queenie was tucked in, and Dung sat beside her on the bed. Queenie was drawing on some sheets Maude had got from Emma, a pretty drawing of a witch on her broomstick. Dung had drawn a scary monster with lots of teeth.
"Where did you get the crayons from?" Maude asked surprised.
"Dung gave them to me. Wasn't that nice?"
Dung blushed slightly. "It's really your birthday present," he admitted. "But I thought you could 'ave them now, you bein' sick and all."
"That's nice, Dung! Now it's time for your potion." Maude took a spoon, and gave Queenie a healthy dose. The girl made a grimace, and Dung laughed when her hair started smoking.
"Can Dung 'ave a dose too?"
"Have, dear. Remember your language." Maude sighed, and gave Dung a little dose. It was good to hear Queenie laughing again, though. "I'll save the rest for this evening," she said firmly, and put the lid on. "Come out when you're feeling better."
Back in the kitchen she tidied up, and cleaned out the cauldron. Then she found some potatoes and carrots in the cupboard, and started making chicken soup.
Thank Merlin for Jack. He had always been kind to her, and after John had died he had helped her out several times. Dung often came with a little something from Jack, some food or a bottle of Butterbeer for the children to enjoy. She appreciated it more than she could ever say, but when she thanked him he would just look embarrassed.
There was a knock on the window. She looked outside, and saw Geoff standing there with the stick he had used to catch her attention. She opened the window.
"Where have the others got to?" she asked when she saw he was alone outside.
"They've left. They said I couldn't come, that I was too small!" He wiped his nose with his sleeve in indignation. Then he forgot about them. "Look at me, Mum!" Once more he did the slide.
"Ah! That's my boy!"
His face was shining with joy. "I can dance!" He jumped around on the ice with his too-big shoes.
"You be careful now!"
He didn't hear her, he was too busy jumping, making some strange pattern with his feet. Suddenly one of the shoes got in the way, and he fell on the slippery surface.
"Ouch. You all right?" she asked.
With a miserable expression on his face he got up, rubbing his chest. "I broke my 'eart," he said.
She was taken aback. "What did you say?"
"I broke my 'eart," he repeated. He sniffed, and ran the arm of his sister's big cloak over his nose again. "I'm not crying," he added hastily.
"You'll have to be careful, Geoff. Want to come inside?"
He didn't answer, but got back to his dancing. He focused so hard that his tongue was sticking out between his lips. Silently she closed the window to keep the warmth inside. If Queenie was the one of the children who was most like John, then Geoff was the one most like her. But then again, perhaps she read too much into it. She stood by the window with her arms crossed, looking at him.
'We dance on the ice without heeding the warnings, don't we, Geoff? And then we fall and break our hearts. And it hurts so much, and it feels like we can't ever get up again. But we do, we go on. And we'll never stop dancing.'