Day 1

I do not own anything

London, Friday 22nd December 1950.

The rain failed hard against the glass roof right above her bed. A heavy winter rain. But it would take a few showers of rain like this to wash away all of the war's vestiges. This country had just found peace for five years so most of the city was still recovered from all the bombs and bullets. Life continued, peoples were parsimonious, even when it was better than last year, but it still reminded everyone about the time when they can eat fresh and raw food, not just canned one.

That night, Christine and her friends met up at her apartment and chatted. Peter Benjamin was a librarian and he vowed to spend the rest of his life collecting books, but he also said that the love of his life was the drum, although he couldn't play it, sometimes Christine and the others would tease him about it, drum or books, which one was more important? Meg Giry was a nurse, she loved dancing and used to dream that one day she could become a professional dancer, but then life kicked in and she had to give up her dream and became a nurse to take care of her mother, but her mother passed away last year after two years struggling with sickness, Meg was sad but she had to continue to live. Roy and Elizabeth just got married two months ago and they owned a small convenience store. And then there was Raoul De Chagny, her best and longest friend, they have been a friend since they were seven years old and they went to the same primary school until she was ten, Christine had to move away because of the war and just came back eight years later to study university, they met again. The little boy with a red nose chased after her scarf in one hot summer day had become a man of every girl's dream, light brown hair with blue ocean eyes and a boyish face. Yes, every girl's dream, but not her, he did show that he was interested in her and wanted them to be more than a best buddy. But Christine couldn't see him anything more than a brother.

When they were talking about their life and dream, Peter suggested that they should go to Brighton on the weekend. It was almost Christmas so they wanted to go on a short vacation and have some fun. They checked to see how much money they had. Meg never had money in her pocket so most of the time, the others would pay for her ticket. Peter only had around five dollars since he just imported twenty new books into his library, he did not have much left. Roy and Elizabeth had twenty-dollar because their business was pretty good last week. Raoul's brother was a businessman so he did not have to worry about money most of the time and often offered to pay for their short vacation, but everyone didn't like to use his money all the time so they refused.

" look like we will have enough money for our little vacation trip," Christine said, counting her money, perfect, thirteen dollars.

" great, it has been such a long time since we last went out and had some fun." Peter smiled. " what time are we going to meet?"

" how about 10:00 AM at the train station?"

" Okay."

" I will make my famous Lasagna," Elizabeth announced.

" Please don't." everyone said at once.

" why? I am a very good cooker." Elizabeth whined.

" honey, remember that I am the one who does the cooking in our home." Roy teased. " I think I should be the only ones who have to suffer your cooking, not our friends."

" why you …." Elizabeth tried to choke her husband.

" Alright, alright, break it off, you can not kill him yet, at least wait until you two get home, I do not want to have to explain to the police why I have a dead body in my apartment when I am as innocent as a babe."

" right ." everyone said at once.

" shut up. I will say I did try to save Roy. They will believe my blue innocent eyes." Christine pouted. " anyway, what do you think about 10:00 am at Victoria train station?"

" cool."

After they settled down the time to meet, Raoul opened the wine bottle that he brought. They drank and soon started to sing all the songs they knew. Until her neighbor, who lived in an apartment opposite her home, Mr. Reddington came over and almost broke her door with his powerful knocks. Being the only one who was brave enough to open the door, Raoul promised that the noise would stop immediately since it was late and everyone needed to go home anyway. accepted his apology but did not forget to lecture them about how they woke him up when he was trying to sleep after a very long day, and he hoped that his oh-so-sweet neighbor didn't make it impossible. The house and its old Victoria style was not a Jazz club and only their chatting noise was already too much. After giving everyone a piece of his mind, turned around and walked back to his apartment.

Christine's friends took their jackets and bid her goodbye. After there was only her in the apartment, Christine started to clear her home and prepared to go to bed. Suddenly, she looked over her door. How dare her rude neighbor could crush her beautiful night. she put on her coat and checked herself with her wall mirror, before wen knocking on his door.

" Please tell me that you saw a fire and in your panic state, you didn't have another way to save me from this fire but knocking on my door and woke me up, again."

"first, 11:00 pm before the weekend vacation is always a hard time for all of us, especially when I have to suffer your horrible music, like… all the time… so the least you can do is, please let me have my friends come over in peace for once."

" you have your noisy friends come over every Friday, and you all have a very bad habit of drinking, I can't say it does not affect my sleep. And to tell the truth, I have no idea what you are talking about, I do not have a piano, or any other musical instrument, so ' the horrible music' you are blaming me for playing is not my doing, maybe the old lady who lives downstage is the one you should come over and knock on her door to complain. Besides, I am an artist, not a musician. And art doesn't make noise, Miss."

" you are an artist?" Christine blinked, surprise.

" Is there something wrong with that?" Mr. Reddington said with a raising eyebrow and a very annoying voice.

"Uhm… no… no, of course not, I was just wondering, what do you draw, Mr. Reddington?"

" city view, miss. Now, if you excuse me, I need to get out of this cold and into my warm bed before I get sick." He was about to close the door when Christine pushed against it, force it to open again.

" wait…. I am sorry…. It is just that…" Christine looked down, feeling like a kid who was caught with her hand in the cookie jaw. " I have never seen you draw anything…. Or leave your apartment …. So… I thought…"

" you thought what, Miss Anderson?"

" my name is Christine, I am sure you already know that since no conversation in my apartment could escape your ears."

" the wall is not thick enough is not my problem. And I will ask again, when will you let me go back to bed and get some sleep? I am very tired." He said, crossing his arms. " or should we continue to talk like this? In the cold and uncomfortable hall."

Christine stared at him for two or three seconds.

" why?"

"Pardon?"

" Why do you keep acting like that, rude and hateful. We are neighbors. We should at least be nice and get to know each other."

" I have been living in this building for longer than you, Miss Anderson…"

" Christine!"

" Miss Anderson…"

" it is Christine or we will stay right here and no one will get any sleep tonight."

" now that…."

" I am very stubborn when I want to be." She said seriously.

" I know you are." He said quietly, she almost missed that.

" what?"

" Alright, Christine." He sighed.

When Mr. Reddington said her name, Christine suddenly felt herself blushing, he got a very nice angelic voice. ' he should be a musician, or something relative to music, it is a waste that he is an artist.' She thought, and if he was the one who played the music she heard every day, she would be wondering why the hell did he choose art when he should devote himself to music.

"look, Christine, I have been living here for long before you. But since the day you moved into the apartment that I want to rent, my wonderful and quiet life was turned upside down and my wonderful work time was just wishful thinking. How many times have you came and knocked on my door when your home ran out of sugar or salt? Or asking for a bit of margarine to cook when your oh-so-precious friends came over and destroyed my sleep or some candles since you forgot to buy it when the power was out, and you already know that this old building's power out a lot. Do you ever wonder that every time you come and knock on my door, it doesn't affect my life?"

" you want my apartment?"

" yes, the owner must have been generous with you and your pretty face a lot, your apartment was the only one that has two windows, and a glassy roof, when I have to live with the little light that comes from a tiny window."

" I have never met the owner, I rent it over a house renting an office."

Mr. Reddington stared at her.

" can we stop this conversation here?"

" can you stop being rude and at least tell me your name?"

" so I guess we will both never get what we want then." He frowned and then slammed the door into her face.

" grumpy old man." She mumbled.

" I heard that. Good night to you, too, Miss Anderson."

Christine looked at his door for a second and then head back to her apartment. She needed to sleep, after all, she had to wake up early tomorrow anyway.

(TBC)