Note-Ok, so the first chapter was short, but still. There is a severe lacking of Thea on this site, and she's actually my favourite (female) character, simply because she epitomises quite a lot of girls in modern society. That and because she's small and hilarious. And speaking of, are any British fans watching "Misfits" on Thursday? Iwan Rhoen will be amazing! Enjoy!
"Ernst Robel?" Anna and Martha chorused.
Thea nodded slowly, watching the young man's slight, sprightly figure turn the corner to the vineyard and vanish.
"Yes…" she murmured. "I mean, why not?"
By this point, Anna was close to choking on her own tongue. Martha managed to regain her composure first
"Thea, are you serious?" she said gently. "I mean, Ernst is a lovely boy, but don't you feel that there's something a little odd about him?" This question was not just addressed to Thea, but to all of them. It was addressed to the wind, and the wind did not reply. A heavy, compressing silence fell on the girls. Naturally, Thea spoke first.
"Of course not! He's just quiet…thoughtful. It's not a bad thing"
Anna and Martha did not exchange glances, for their friend would have immediately seen it. Instead, their serious eyes waited, blue and brown, silent ridicule and soft query.
"Yes…" Thea mused. "He is, isn't he? Quiet and thoughtful. I mean, he is friends with all the boys, even that ghastly Hanschen Rilow, so he must be friendly and know how to cherish and look after people. Whenever I've spoken to him, he is polite and kind and gentle and lovely and…perfect…"
Anna knew this look, and it only meant one thing. Trouble.
"Thea" she ventured carefully. "You're not seriously thinking of perusing Ernst Robel romantically, are you?"
"Why not?" Thea instantly demanded. "It's not like he has ties to any other girl. Why are you trying to dissuade me so? Do you think I couldn't manage it? I could. I can, and I will make Ernst Robel mine! And besides, I quite think Thea Robel has a rather nice ring to it, don't you?"
The next morning awakened with dew, reclining on the beds of wild crocuses that ran up to the woods and on the thin spider-webs, as if someone had drawn a paintbrush over the village, covering it with mysticism and delight. Many in the small town would love these hours, and sit up watching the sunlight fall and reflect of the tiny drops. But when the latch of the front door creaked painfully open, and the sole of a boot connected hard with the floor, Thea's face was anything but serene. She was tired, irritated at having to rise so early on a Saturday morning to go and buy bread for Mama, and even more annoyed that Mama had made her wear her tough winter boots, even though it was spring. She grumbled to herself, the wicker basked bashing against her hip as she walked down the pathway that led past the church towards the town centre. As she neared the church, however, she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, and her eyes widened.
There he was; sitting on the small stone wall that ran around the perimeter of the church. He was swinging his legs casually, his eyes firmly planted on a small red book that settled in his lap. Ernst Robel.
Thea felt her heart begin to beat in her chest, and her cheeks soften and glow pink. She began to walk again, but daintily this time. Then she stopped again, and looked up at him.
"Oh!" she said, and his head jerked towards her. "Good morning"
A small smile stretched across his face, a smile that made her innards twist. "Hello! I didn't see you there"
"I didn't expect anyone to be up so early"
"Me neither. I like to come out here when it's so beautiful and quiet like this. It's almost magical, I find, when there's nobody about"
"Oh…" she felt her face redden in embarrassment. "I interrupted you. I'm sorry"
"Not at all" he smiled again, and Thea's breath caught in her throat. "It's Thea, isn't it? We used to play together when we were little, do you remember?"
"Yes!" Thea cried, even though she didn't remember in the slightest.
"Of course" he said, nodding his head. "How have you been?"
"Very well, thank you, and all the better for seeing you here"
Ernst smiled again; that too-wide, slightly awkward grin that curled the edges of his mouth up to his eyes, and Thea felt her stomach flip over like a fish. She pushed her glasses further up her nose, wishing (not for the first time) that her eyes would look big and brown and doe-like without the large, owlish metallic frames.
"What are you reading, Ernst?" she enquired. Ernst glanced down at the red book, as if he hadn't seen it before, and then looked up again.
"Oh, this? Homer" he replied. "Homer's Odyssey"
"Oh…" Thea replied, hoping she looked like she knew what he was talking about.
"I borrowed it off Hanschen. They're such wonderful stories"
"Yes. Hanschen's a good friend of yours, isn't he?" Stay like this, Thea thought to herself. Interested and interesting.
"Yes. I suppose you could say that" Ernst laughed.
"He must be lucky to have a friend like you" she ventured, and Ernst visibly coloured.
"Well…I'm lucky to have good friends as well" he said. "Like you. I cannot believe we haven't spoken in so long when we get along so well! I really like you, Thea"
Thea swallowed. "I…I like you too, Ernst"
"We shall be good friends, you and I" the boy smiled, and Thea felt her heart crash to the floor and shatter into tiny pieces.
"Yes…I have to go now" she mumbled, and quickly pushed past the young man, her quick footsteps carrying her away and away.
The house was small, ramshackle, and many would have called it derelict. The paint was peeling, the wood was rotten and damp, and it often seemed as if the whole building was leaning to its side in pain. It had a feeling of neglect and squalor about it, and although the house was clean enough, it still emitted an ominous feeling. Nobody knew of it except those who were welcome, and so it was the perfect hiding place.
Anna looked up the house. She wasn't particularly fond of the area; it reeked of sin. Somewhere, a bottle smashed, a cat screeched, and she shivered outwardly. Next to her, Martha was clutching at the basket so tight her knuckles were pale, fighting the urge to turn around. Quickly, Anna reached up to the door, and knocked on it. A few, long seconds passed before movement was heard inside the house, and the door creaked open. The girl who stared back at them looked as if she had only just risen from bed. Her crimson hair was wild and untamed, her eyes ringed with the remnants of sleep, even though it was almost midday, and her face was still pale from old, dried make-up. She was clad in an oversized shirt, which was splattered with colour and stains. For a moment, she looked at the girls without recognition, and Anna felt worry flutter in her breast like a baby bird. Then, finally, the girl's face broke out into a sweet smile.
"Hello!" she exclaimed. Martha breathed a sigh of relief.
"Good morning, Ilse. You were expecting us, weren't you?"
Ilse cocked her head to the side. "Oh. I was, wasn't I? I'm sorry"
"Not at all" Anna said. "We should apologize for waking you"
"Don't worry about it" Ilse shrugged, and motioned for the girls to enter before disappearing into the darkness. Anna took a breath, and followed her.
The interior of the house was almost as bad as the exterior. It was dark, and cold, and there was things thrown all over the floor. Behind her, the door creaked as Martha slowly closed it. Ilse stepped over a box, and led them into a room at the end of the corridor. Anna assumed the room was a kitchen. It was the best-lit room in the house, with a window that looked out onto an overgrown wilderness of garden. There was a large, circular table in the middle, with a few chairs. The table was covered in empty bottles and dirty plates, of which there were more piling up in the sink. Ilse grimaced, and quickly took the bottles off the table, as if hoping they wouldn't be seen. Anna gingerly sat down on one of the flimsy-looking chairs, hoping it wouldn't collapse. Martha followed.
"We brought you some cake, Ilse" she ventured timidly. Anna nodded. "Battenberg"
"Oh, thank you so much" Ilse smiled, and took one of the remaining clean plates from the shelf. She set it on the table, with a knife, and Martha took the cake from the hamper and placed it down. Ilse took the knife, and scored a long cut through the marzipan.
"So, what brings you to my humble abode?" she asked.
"Just to see you, Ilse" Martha replied. "We haven't seen you for so long; not since-" she swallowed, "Melchior's letter. How have you been?"
"I've been great!" Ilse said. She sounded haggard, but neither girl dared to contradict. "Do you like the new painting?"
She pointed to the door, and the girls turned their heads. A canvas leant against the wall, and on it painted a scene. It was unmistakably Ilse. She was leaned against a tree, at night, barely clothed save for a few scraps of rags. Her eyes wide, her red mouth in a perfect O, she looked as if in perfect balance between horror and ecstasy. The trees around her were nightmarishly twisted and deformed. She looked like a doll, and Anna's breath caught in her through. The picture was, frankly, terrifying.
"It's good, isn't it?" Ilse continued. "It's called Fallen Angel"
"It's very good, Ilse…" Anna muttered. She tore her eyes away, and back to her friend.
"So why have you really come?" Ilse asked, sitting down, tearing savagely into a slice of cake. "There's usually a reason. Many wouldn't be seen dead here otherwise"
Martha winced. "We wanted to ask your advice on something"
"Fire away"
"It's about Thea…" Anna began, but was cut off by a long groan from Ilse.
"Oh, God, not Thea again!" Ilse cried. "Every time you come here, it's either "Thea this" or "Thea that"! I'm sick of hearing about her! She is the most insufferable little girl I've ever had the misfortune to meet in my life"
"She's becoming erratic" Martha stoically continued, regardless of the outburst. "She's always been a little…eccentric, but recently she's just gone wild"
"The poor girl's distraught" Anna added. "We don't know what to do"
Ilse looked at them levelly. In the harsh light of the morning, she gave the appearance of a cat about to pounce. She was not the girl who had played pirates anymore.
"And why do you think she is so distressed?" she said calmly, dangerously. "Is it something to do with Wendla, perhaps?"
Anna and Martha looked at the floor.
"Thea is acting up because she thinks that poor, pretty Wendla died of anaemia, isn't she? Because you haven't told her the truth. Because you haven't told her that good Wendla Bergmann was with Melchior Gabor's child!"
"She doesn't need to know any of that!" Martha cried. "She's still innocent!"
"And anyway" Anna continued. "Why would any of that have anything to do with the fact that she is hell-bent on planning to snare Ernst Robel?"
For a moment, the kitchen was silent. Then, slowly, Ilse smiled. It was a predatory smile, and Anna shuddered.
"Ernst Robel, did you say?"
"Yes…" Anna said, warily. Suddenly, quickly, Ilse burst of laughing, great, manic peals of laughter that echoed around the room. Her eyes were feral.
"As in, she wants to marry Ernst Robel?"
"Exactly!" Martha cried, obviously as shocked as Anna.
"Oh, my, how priceless!" Ilse cackled. "I know things about Ernst Robel…oh, what fun! Mark my words, after this encounter, Thea will not nearly be as innocent as you two like to believe!"
