The chateau stood bare, the high white walls stretching upwards to blend with the domed ceiling of the entrance hall. A few bluebottles buzzed impotently at the glass, as though their colliding with the glass would somehow force it to disappear, freeing the insects. Hot air filled every room, a heavy silence descending through the building suppressing life and forcing all who entered to speak in hushed voices lest they awaken the predator within.
A workman shuffled in through the main doors, crossing the hallway and vanishing into a side room. He appeared moments later with a large crate, apparently stuffed with candlesticks. The workman took his load outside and lifted it onto the waiting cart, signalling to the driver that the loading was finished. The cart jerked to a start, then the two aged horses plodded slowly down the road towards the town. The workman watched it leave, then returned to the house. Cutting through the hallway and the dining room, he walked through the double doors to the garden and started towards the summerhouse. Inside, Eve sat watching the sunset and cradling Anastasia in her lap. Drizella sat to her left, reading a book of fairy tales and playing with the end of one of her plaited pigtails. It had been three years from Pierre's death and Drizella was now seven years old. Eve had worked hard to stretch Pierre's pension to breaking point in order to educate the girls and buy them new clothes and books. Drizella tended to sulk less now she was older and the old dismissive attitude towards her mother was gone. If anything, Drizella was now over-protective of her time with her mother, pushing Anastasia aside in order to get her mother's attention. Eve did not wholly approve of this behaviour, but she was pleased that her eldest daughter now took pains to seek her out and spend time with her. Drizella reminded Eve of herself at that age – her nose always stuck in a book, clinging to her mother whenever she could, quietly confident she could achieve any aim. Anastasia, on the other hand, reminded Eve of Pierre. She was quieter than her sister and had a definite streak of "tomboy" in her. Eve had often found Anastasia in the garden climbing trees or collecting insects and worms. Anastasia had, as a result, fewer 'good' clothes than Drizella – most of Anastasia's dresses being hand-me-downs from Drizella that Anastasia was allowed to go out and play in. Anastasia had Pierre's charm and looks. Drizella seemed to have her mother's intelligence.
The workman drew level with the summerhouse and coughed politely.
"Please ma'am, the cart has left and you did tell me to call you when it did."
"Thank you, Jacques. Anastasia! Wake up Anastasia!" Anastasia uncurled sleepily from her mother's lap. Drizella closed her book.
"Mother do we have to leave?" asked Drizella.
"Please don't start now Drizella – you know we must! Jacques, bring the carriage around to the front of the house. Monsieur Vigeland did promise we could use it this one last time for our final journey into town." Jacques nodded, half-bowed and left the summerhouse. Eve took Drizella's hand in her right hand, and Anastasia's in her left. They walked together into the chateau and took a last look around the impressive hallway. Eve sighed, "well, goodbye old friend!"
"Goodbye house!" said Anastasia, not really understanding why she did so. Drizella glanced around the hallway and seemed to be trying to memorise every last detail of the room. She shrugged and turned her head to the side to look at Eve.
"It's only a house." Somehow aware that more than this was expected of her and that her mother was tense, Drizella looked up at the ceiling and the plaster detail around the hanging chandelier. An angel caught her eye. "Goodbye angel," she said softly. Eve smiled at Drizella and led the two girls out of the door for the last time.
In the carriage, on the way to their small, peasant's cottage in the town, Eve had time to reflect on the last three years. It had become painfully obvious after dismissing their last servant that Pierre's army pension was not going to support Eve and the girls throughout the rest of their lives. Maintaining the large chateau was too much work for Eve alone and she had been forced to take the decision to sell the chateau. Edward Vigeland, a visiting Dane, had business in the area and had jumped at the chance to buy the mansion at what Eve considered to be a fair price. She was aware that had time permitted she could have received a larger payment for the house, but time never permits where money is concerned. The cottage she had bought was not ideal, but it was in the middle of the town and it was cheap, leaving some money after paying her remaining debts to ensure the family could at least eat for the next few months. She would no longer require servants or a carriage and that itself would negate the need for a horse and the expense of a groom. Drizella had fought viciously to keep her horse, but had in the end accepted the fact she'd have to be parted from him.
A plaintive mewing from a cage on the seat next to Anastasia interrupted Eve's thoughts. She'd brought Lucifer, knowing that he'd grow fat on the mice and rats in the town. Eve leaned over and tickled Lucifer under the chin through the bars of the cage, causing a tirade of purring and mewing to begin.
"Oh Lucifer, go to sleep! It's not far now, I promise you."
"He smells funny mother," commented Drizella.
"He smells fine Drizella. There – look the town!" Eve pointed out of the window at the houses and shops coming into view around the corner. The girls had rarely ventured into town, Pierre and Eve both being rather over-protective parents who wanted to avoid the influence of a town on their precious daughters. The girls fought for the windows, each trying to gain the best view of the tall houses, beggars, butchers, bakers and tradesmen peddling their wares. Of course, both girls found the richer townsfolk more interesting, marvelling at their expensive clothes and jewellery. Eve grimaced at the memory of selling most of her jewels a few months earlier and thanked whichever god was looking after her now that she had not had to sell the girls' necklaces that Pierre had bought them shortly before he died.
They arrived at the cottage within an hour of leaving the chateau. The cart with their possessions had arrived earlier and the workmen had already started unloading the few items Eve had not sold. A few hours later, the workmen and Jacques long gone, the girls tucked into their new beds and the house in a reasonable order, Eve stood at the front door and watched as the townsfolk swarmed passed her door. She looked up in awe at the palace in the centre of the town – it towered over the surroundings, reminding her of how insignificant her family had become. Her parents had died some years ago now, but she still felt she'd let them down by becoming a virtual peasant thanks to her unfortunate husband's poor control of the family fortune. She felt a (now rare) rush of tears at the memory of Pierre, but was interrupted from her miserable reverie by Lucifer curling around her legs. She scooped him up and held him against her chest, burying her face in his fur and listening to his purring. Lucifer decided that he'd been cuddled enough and jumped down after a few minutes to go and sleep on Anastasia's bed. Eve took one more glance around the street, shut the door and sighed. Tomorrow she would need to find a job as a seamstress, cleaner, or something appropriate. She wasn't entirely sure what jobs were available to a widow with two dependent daughters, though she did have some clear ideas about what she was and was not prepared to do in order to meet the bills. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she could decide how to survive. For tonight, she was content that her family was safe and their home secure. Eve crossed the small living room and climbed the rickety stairs to her bedroom. She threw herself facedown on the bed and within minutes was fast asleep.