Drizella ran into the parlour on a bright June morning with Anastasia's new doll. Drizella had broken the doll's arm and Anastasia was wailing somewhere in the background. Eve glared at Drizella and asked her to drop the doll. In temper, Drizella threw it to the floor and the doll's pretty face smashed on the tiles. Eve felt sick to her stomach and struck Drizella on the hand. Drizella stuck her tongue out at her mother and ran out of the room. Anastasia was waiting in the hall and ran to her mother. When she drew close to the doll, she turned it over to pick it up. When Anastasia saw the doll's face she burst out crying. Eve picked her up and cuddled her for a moment, then crossed to the chaise and sat down with her child. Stroking Anastasia's hair for a while, she waited for the girl to fall asleep and lay her on the chaise. Picking up the remains of the doll, she left to find Drizella.

Eve found Drizella in the library, sobbing onto Pierre's shoulder. He had his head on hers and was facing away from the door.

"She hit me!" screeched Drizella, pointing at Eve. Pierre half turned, regarded eve from the corner of his eye, then turned back to face the far wall.

"Go to your room Drizella. Your mother and I need to talk." Drizella dropped down, smiled triumphantly at her mother, then stomped off upstairs. "Well?" asked Pierre, still facing the wall.

"She smashed Anastasia's doll, then when I asked her to put it down she threw it at the floor deliberately in order to break it some more!"

"It was only a doll."

"But she..."

"It was only a doll and yet you hit our daughter. How can you justify hitting her over such a trivial matter?"

"You were not there – you have no idea. The manner – she's become so self-centred and is far too used to getting her own way and bullying Anastasia."

"Has she ever hit Anastasia?" Pierre turned around with a fierce look in his eyes. "Has she?" he spat.

"Not that I know of," replied Eve. She was liking this conversation less and less and knew there was no way she'd win the inevitable argument that would soon follow. Pierre doted on Drizella and frequently spoiled the girl with clothes, dolls and treats. She had her own horse despite the fact she couldn't ride it and he had been about to buy a dog for her last birthday until Eve had (quickly) acquired a kitten. Eve hated dogs. She hadn't realised that Pierre hated cats until she'd already bought Smoky. Pierre had taken one look and christened it Lucifer. Lucifer had stuck as the cat's name since that day.

"But you thought it was fine to hit Drizella."

"It was a tap on the hand!"

"She's only a child!"

"You always take her side. You always spoil her rotten. She was facetious and rude and probably didn't cry until she saw you, just to win your sympathy! You have no idea..." she was shouting now, unwilling to be drowned out by her husband, "you have no idea how she behaves when you're not around. Why, yesterday she..."

"She is only a child!" shouted Pierre, now face to face with his wife. Both stopped for a breath for a moment.

"Fine," said Eve calmly, "then you can take this," Eve gave Pierre the remains of the doll, "to Anastasia and explain to her that her sister is only a child and therefore has every right to destroy her birthday present. I will now leave to go and buy Anastasia a replacement. You no doubt will leave later to buy Drizella three dolls in order to placate her temper and prove once again that you prefer her to either Anastasia or myself!" Eve turned and tried to storm off, but Pierre grabbed hold of her right arm.

"Don't ever say that!" Pierre spun Eve around to face him and clung to her other arm as well.

"Let go of me!" shrieked Eve.

"Don't ever say that again!" unintentionally, Pierre shook Eve, hard.

"You're hurting!" Eve struggled against Pierre. He suddenly realised what he was doing.

"I love you..."

"Let go, let go, let GO!" screamed Eve, startling the maid who had just walked in. Pierre released her in shock and Eve ran out of the room. Pierre stood helplessly in the library for a moment, then turned to the maid.

"Get out!" He collapsed into a chair and poured himself a brandy. What had just happened? Drizella had sworn she'd done nothing wrong, but he could hardly call his wife a liar. And now Eve was scared of him. He's hurt her, far worse than Eve could have hurt Drizella. How could he make this right? Pierre looked down at the broken doll in his hands, and stroked the matted brown hair softly.

Eve bolted out of the house, her purse clutched in her hand. It was a brilliantly sunny afternoon, which made the events of the last hour seem even less real. Her right arm throbbed with pain, her throat hurt and she was fighting back tears. I'll just buy her another doll, thought Eve, then lock myself in the guestroom for the night. He won't be able to get to me there.

Eve could hardly believe that her beautiful, perfect family had turned into this. One daughter too shy to speak to anyone other than her mother, the other a jumped up little madam spoiled by her father. Pierre was becoming more distant, preferring to spoil the children rather than spend time with her. He's started to come home later and later, stopping to arrange dresses and buy gifts for both girls, but mainly for Drizella. Eve had taken to following him as he left the barracks as she'd suspected he'd been seeing another woman, but had found he had genuinely been buying presents for the girls. Then of course, he was spending his time after buying the presents in the local tavern, drinking with the soldiers. She'd spent many an evening hiding in the shadows, watching her husband as he drank his way through their money, before running slightly ahead of him, just out of sight, in order to arrive home moments before he did. And what on Earth had she become?

On arriving at town, she bought the prettiest doll in the toyshop, and turned to head back to the house. Ahead of her, the regiment was making its way back to barracks. They were a magnificent sight, blue-clad on chestnut bays, their swords slung low at their waists. They passed quickly, the sound of hooves fading into the distance. She imagined Pierre in that uniform. Riding high until that accident during the war had weakened his leg. He'd been told never to ride again and had been devastated. He'd stayed on at the barracks to teach swordfighting, but knew that soon he would be dismissed and given his soldier's pension. Pierre's pride refused to allow his health to win, and he forced his body to endure pain every day in order to keep his position in the regiment.

A thunder of hooves interrupted her thoughts. A tall man was riding into town. Eve drew back into the shadows, hiding from the figure. The man rode to the toyshop and pulled off his hat. It was Pierre. He leaned down and knocked on the door. The toymaker came to the door.

"Have you seen my wife?"

"Yes captain, she was here earlier. Is something wrong sir?"

"No, but thank you. Thank you." Pierre circled the horse, with difficulty, to face the road back to the house. He waited for the toymaker to leave, then called "Eve?" His voice echoed around the square. "Eve!" Again, no answer. Eve drew further into the shadows and turned her face from the square, sidling down a lane to the road behind. She tipped over a piece of wood and, startled by the noise, ran blindly away from the square. Pierre had heard the noise, and froze. "Eve!" he called, and the sound rang through the now empty square.