Chapter 4:
Her name was Ivy.
16 years old and already married to a man 6 years her senior, but he was a good man and he was a good husband too. She'd tell Valerie about her childhood days on a farm living with her father and mother. But when a wealthy man came and bought their lands, they moved to the city to start fresh. Both her parents worked at the factories. Valerie also explained her father worked there, too. Valerie pressed and squeezed the dough in her hands listening to Ivy introduce her to the baker. The arrogant and mean baker, Jacques, did not engage in their conversation. He was a man nearly reaching age 50 and he had no time to cluck among the hens as he put it.
"Do you have a husband, Charlotte?"
What a question to ask.
Valerie mused, "I was engaged once."
"Yes? What was his name?"
"Henry, Henry Lazar…"
"So… he fell in love with another girl?"
"Oh, no, no… he was a good man. Dependent, strong, and very kind. Wouldn't hurt a fly if his life depended on it." Valerie smiled, sad when she remembered giving Henry back his wedding gift.
Ivy nodded," The day I married my husband was the day I first met him. We both knew that we didn't want it but we had no choice. Our families were poor and desperate. All I wanted to do was crawl out my window and run away. Grab a horse and ride. Go anywhere."
Valerie looked at her, understanding," Oh, Ivy, I didn't run away from the altar. I came here with my father."
She blushed, putting a hand to her cheek.
"Oh, forgive me! I'm a hopeless romantic! I get it from my mother. My second guess was that you fell in love with another boy and you ran away together. It always happens in fairy tale books."
She laughed while Valerie felt pinched. That's what she wished would've happened. Instead boy loves girl. Girl loves another boy. Boy loves another girl.
Ivy wiped her hands on her apron.
"Come! Madame Alice wouldn't like us talking. She'll duck us 1 shilling if she catches us. She always says work brings good luck upon your house. She also says that bread brings good luck upon your home, too. She says following the rules brings good luck, too. She says a great deal of things."
"She sounds like a dream."
Ivy covered her mouth her hand, looked in both directions and whispered, "She's one of those women. Fears no one but her husband and loves no one but her two sons. But she is a thrill! Her superstitions are the funny type."
Valerie narrowed her eyes.
"Superstitions…? Of what sort…?"
"Oh, nonsense about devil roosters, black cats, sleeping with your socks on and wearing gold rings on the wrong finger. Once she scolded me for not tying my shoe laces when I came to work. She believed some nonsense about witches using your shoe laces in dark rituals in the middle of the night."
Valerie pretended to laugh.
Oh no.
She needed to tell Papa.
She wiped her forehead, slick with sweat.
"What else do you know?"
Looking in all directions, Ivy whispered in her ear," I know that Madame Alice is having an affair. His name is Alec and he's the owner of the tavern near the butcher shop. He has a wife and 4 children. She thinks she's so sneaky when she comes into the kitchen nearly 3 hours after we've opened in the morning. The disgrace!" she smiled.
As much as Valerie appreciated the hot gossip, she needed to know if Madame Alice believed in werewolves. She wondered if the people of the city ever housed werewolves before and faced the deadly consequences.
If anyone knew then her father's plans would be ruined.
The agreement Valerie and Ivy reached that day was this: Ivy would teach her the basics of the kitchen and teach her how to operate the massive oven. There would be very little money involved in their pay but they would take most of their meals together at noon, but Valerie did not relish on the idea of eating inside the bakery with Madame Alice around so she and Ivy decided they would eat outside in the exit lane. After they had eaten their first dinner of bread and butter and dumplings, Ivy wrapped anything worthy taking in her apron pocket. She needed to feed her family, too.
It was a good idea. Madame Alice would never know. Valerie, too, took anything she could into a small sack. She gathered the ends, slung it into her apron pocket and headed back home, never looking back. The two young girls spent their days together sweating against the heat of the oven making an inventory of the place, listing the things that needed doing and their order of chores. Madame Alice, with a poking finger, demanded and demanded them around the entire kitchen. On and on and on, the list was becoming bottomless!
Work!
Work!
Work!
Be the first awake in the morning!
Be the last asleep at night!
The floors needed sweeping!
The windows needed wiping!
The stove needed scrubbing!
The cabinets need dusting!
Sweep the chimney!
Move the bread onto the iron racks!
Get rid of the rodents on the floor!
Manage the front desk for customers!
Wash your face, don't scare the customers!
Smile like a proper lady for the customers!
Both young girls did their orders while they sweated like running hogs in summer. Ivy helped Valerie with her chores while Jacques slid the dough in the oven and timed his baking to the exact moment the bread would be done. Valerie wiped her forehead with her arm as she stretched out the dough across the table and powdered the flour. She wiped her hands on her apron as she grabbed 2 logs and threw them in the stove, feeling the intense heat lick against her skin. Beads of sweat ran down her neck as she slammed the opening shut. Ivy helped her by rolling out the floury paste. The dough was rolled out into wide flat slabs and given to Jacques to bend, roll, and bake. His plump, yet skilled hands, tossed the white slabs into the air and catching it on his fingers swirling into a tower. The sun was high up in the sky which only meant one thing; lunch. Both girls grabbed their provisions and took the backdoor exit to their lane. They knelt and sat on the cobblestone curb and unwrapped their pouches. Two stale pieces of bread, a tiny block of cheese, a slice of pork, and two carrots were sitting on the table.
"We share?"
"We share."
Meanwhile:
Cesaire could smell it. His nostrils flared to the scent. Inhaling it and choking it out with a cough covering his mouth with his hand. He could smell the danger from within this factory. With his wolf eyes he glared at the silver wheels rolling round and round bringing life to the machine. The silver, glimmering, was everywhere in sight but just as long as he had his gloves then his secret would remain a mystery. Even one touch would mean certain death; a slow, slow, slow and painful death.
But there was a bigger threat.
His hunger.
The human part of him cried for a piece of sliced salted pork with bread while the wolf side of him craved his annual yuletide offering of livestock. A fat pig or a fat goat would do perfectly. Unable to have neither, at full satisfaction, he needed to let his daughter know of the cravings any young werewolf will have. Thinking of his daughter now, he wondered if she too must be starving. She might be feeling the same way he felt; eyes twitching, feet burning, and head nauseous from being so hungry all the time. It's a terrible habit. One night they would both have to hunt.
Human or not.
He needed to feed his pup.
Cesaire concentrated on his work as he mentally made a list of duties he must perform as a wolf father. His stomach growled at that moment. Agreeing with his list.
"Damn…" he mumbled.
Suddenly in the corner of his eye, he saw his stern employer, Mr. Mavis, patrol his workers with strict owl eyes. Cesaire didn't want to risk his job excusing himself to the chamber pot again. His employer was very serious about work at the factory. No excuses. Damn, Cesaire had to eat something! Mr. Mavis glanced at him curiously before patrolling the lengthy aisle with two hands clasped behind his back. Unwilling to wait any longer, he searched for anything that would subdue the rising tension within his belly and stop the pestering ache! A fellow employee, Mr. Finn, standing across from him, looked at him questionably with raised brows before continuing his work. Mr. Finn was a kind and gentle fellow who never questioned or complained about anything before but ever since Cesaire had come to the factory he's been suspicious.
Suspicions were just like a noose, threatening to tighten and suffocate him. Sucking the inside of his cheek, his frantic eyes spotted a mouse scurrying against the walls scratching and rubbing its little face and cleaning its whiskers. Its large black eyes wide and black as two buttons looked for any scraps to feed its tiny belly.
Instantly, his tongue licked.
His hunger rose.
Even its little body looks like an appetizing meal.
Looking back and forth and in all directions he wiped his forehead with his arm while secretly plotting his next move.
While wiping the sweat he coincidently 'discovered' his shoe lace was untied.
Mr. Finn watched Cesaire kneel behind the mill, disappearing for a mere second. Thinking nothing of it he gradually continued to work. Mr. Mavis was a very strict boss always keeping his duties first and his priorities together and never allowing himself to befriend his workers. Mr. Finn, too, needed to pull his weight in labor. The employee saw the brunette haired man stand wiping his mouth.
Noticing this he pointed a finger.
"You got… a little something… right there," he told.
"Hmm?" Cesaire widened his eyes. "Oh thanks…" he smiled sheepishly wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
It was blood.
Meanwhile:
Another customer here and another customer there and another customer way over there and another customer coming in. Jacque rolled and pounded the dough on the pan before sliding into the mouth of the oven, closing the latch and working on another batch of dough. Ivy, the poor thing, braved the heat of the oven and threw more logs inside while the heat blazed fiercely. The heat became more intense throughout the whole bakery, making it unbearable for everyone. Madame Alice opened all the windows and opened the doors and placed a cinder block to keep it open, fanning her face as beads of sweat come swimming down.
There were so many people walking in and out that it made Valerie's head spin. But that wasn't the only thing making her head spin—it was her nausea. All morning it was happening and she had no idea what it was or what was causing it. All she knew was that the aching came from her stomach and somewhere in her throat. With each passing second, she could feel it swell. With each passing customer, she could feel it become heavier.
Her hunger is becoming hard to control. It was so odd. It wasn't a hunger for bread and butter. But it was a different kind of hunger. Cursing, she patted her stomach.
"Charlotte, we need you to go make a delivery," Madame Alice unhooked a black cloak from the hanger.
"A delivery…?"
"Yes, deliver bread!"
"To whom?"
"To Mr. Elmer down the lane, our best customer," she wrapped Valerie in the cloak, fixed her collar and tucked in her golden hair and pushed her out the door.
Valerie looked at the address on the delivery paper.
"This is all the way in First Class."
"Yes, when you come to the gatekeeper of his household show him the delivery note and he'll escort you in," she fixed her bonnet.
"What do I do then?"
She pointed a finger to her nose, "You do not talk to anyone, do not look at anyone, walk straight and keep your hands to yourself. Don't make any noise! You stay small as you possibly can! Just give him the delivery and come straight back! God forbid you do something, make a fool of yourself and forsake my bakery services to ever go to the First Class again!" she fixed her bonnet again.
"Yes, Madame," she responded.
"Do anything foolish and it'll be your arse on the line!"
Madame Alice nodded sharply, too sharply.
She pushed her out.
One of these days her forked tongue is going to cut herself and she's going to bleed to death, Valerie thought. But she was appreciating the cool breeze of the wind once she was outside the bakery but that didn't stop her from having nausea in her stomach. Gripping her hands on the basket she began to walk down the alley, squeezing past women and men and keeping her head down being grateful the hood of her cloak covered her face. She was told not to bring any attention to herself.
Her cloak swept across the cobblestone like a sheet as she went to First Class watching the ocean of merchants disappear and fade away. There were no merchants, no loud noises, and no more noisy trolleys going up and down the streets. This place was different than Middle Class. It was less crowded; instead the streets were occupied with large chariots strolling from corner to corner with large horses with heavy hooves. Their heavy hooves clacked against cobblestone while their masters enjoyed a day out in the bright afternoon sun, smiling and socializing.
Here she saw Madams and Sirs walking arm in arm on the sidewalk, tall like storks and as elegant as fish. Children in clean clothes hopped like crickets chasing toys and each other, laughing and screaming. Above were ribbons hanging from the trees like string, decorating the neighborhood beautifully.
"Wow," she breathed.
Valerie stretched her neck back as she tried to count the colors, flying in the air like birds. Every window in each house was lit from the ceiling to cellar, giving very welcoming warmth to anyone. She rounded a corner and came to a large circle filled with people, talking and laughing and sitting around a stone fountain. Large fish the size of cows were frozen at the base of the fountain, spitting out an endless supply of water, frozen together like a snowflake.
It was beautiful.
"Oh!" she exclaimed bumping into someone," How silly of me. Excuse me, sir, I did not see you there!"
She fixed her apron and looked up to see green eyes staring back at her, sparkling and romantic. Those eyes belonged to a boy with dark brown hair, tall and handsome. This boy, if he was a boy, had big broad shoulders and a lean chest with lips begging to be kissed. He had a perfectly strong chin with handsome cheekbones. Indeed, he was very handsome for his age. She fixed her bonnet another time before retreating back in the shade of her cloak, trying to hide her blush. She would have said something to flatter him. But he wore…the most ridiculous costume that she has ever seen!
She couldn't decide if he was the village fool or a King's jester! His outfit was green and purple rimmed with bells and gold while wearing black pants and he was carrying a frog mask beneath his large muscled arm.
"Oh, forgive me; I didn't see you standing there, too!" he smiled, fixing his collar and smoothing out his shirt.
"What are you wearing?" she blurted out before she realized, smiling.
He looked down his body.
"This? I thought the gossip would've spread sooner! Oh, I'm a poor traveler robbed of his luck and looking for a princess who will kiss my lips and turn me into a Prince! You wouldn't know where I would find a princess would you? I hate being a frog! They get eaten for breakfast by those damned rich nincompoops!" he pointed.
She laughed, covering her mouth.
His face beamed at this.
"I didn't know that I attracted the attention of beautiful girls, too! Ha! My group will have a laugh once they see this! I'm growing more famous by the minute!" he placed his fists on his hips, standing taller.
"Excuse me?" she asked, recovering from her laugh.
He pointed towards the fountain. Yes, there was something there that she didn't see before. Behind him she saw a large wooden platform decorated with gold streamers and silver ribbons, hanging from strings and poles high up in the air. The bright colors caught her attention and then she realized what his occupation was.
It was an actor's stage.
The mystery is solved. The wide stage was lit with candles, fake paper Mache trees, and a painted background of a forest. She approached watching a group of children sit in their chairs, fussing and laughing and grabbing at each other already getting impatient for the show to start. The boy came up beside her.
"Come on! Or you'll miss the show!" he pulled her arm.
She laughed," I'm sorry but I have to go. I need to make a very important delivery." She lifted her basket.
The address wasn't very far and she reminded herself to focus on her job. She and her father depended on it.
But the boy looked down at her basket, flashed a mischievous smile and quickly snatched a roll of bread from her basket and hopped away!
"Hey! Give it back!" she chased him.
He smiled," What will you give me for it?"
She jumped for it! Not tall enough!
"Give it back!" she huffed.
The boy hopped up on his stage and dangled the roll in the air, juggling it.
"If you stay and watch the show until the end, I'll give it back. Promise," he smiled.
Valerie thought of her options. She couldn't go and make an incomplete delivery; Madame Alice would have her head! She couldn't eat the boy either. Father would disapprove.
"Do you always bribe young girls for your puppet show?"
"No and it is not a puppet show! It is a wonderful and magnificent show performed by professional and distinguished actors such as myself!"
"…You're dressed as a frog."
"Point is: you must stay! You have to stay! What say you, fair princess?"
"I say: let the rich nincompoops eat you for breakfast."
Kicking her foot on the ground, she turned on her heel with her hands clasping on her basket handle and walking away trying to repair her honor. She would not tolerate this distraction anymore. Frantic and desperate, the boy ran in front of her with his hands in the air trying to stop her before she became too angry with him.
"Okay, okay, if I give this back… will you give me something back in return? Like…" he rolled his eyes in his sockets, thinking.
An idea came to his head and he smiled at her warmly.
Dangling the bread in her face, he winked.
"If you give me… your name… then I'll give it back…"
Biting her lip, she could feel herself become tangled within his schemes and she remembered playing these kinds of games with Peter when they were younger. Always playing games and pestering each other with silly pranks. But this boy didn't remind her of Peter in too many ways, but she couldn't help but become playful and intrigued by this Frog Boy. Father would have a fit if he ever knew that she was being approached by boys again. He always told her to be careful. They weren't in Daggorhorn anymore. The rules have changed. They both could not risk the dangers of befriending anyone until they were completely safe. But, seeing him in his glittering ridiculous costume, she decided to allow herself a little fun.
It couldn't hurt.
"Charlotte…" she whispered.
Nodding, he placed on his mask. Stepping back he flashed her one last smile before beginning his show.
"Richard…"
He tossed the roll back to her.
A small group of men rang their tiny orchestra, dramatizing his entrance! The little children of the town circle cheered with glee as he hopped up on stage and jumped in joy! With his hands moving like dancing snakes he began to tell them a fairy tale story about a beautiful princess who would find her destiny kissing a frog who would become a prince. For a while, she listened to his story about the discovery of love hidden in disguise. An ugly swamp frog promises a beautiful young princess that if she kisses him, then he will shed his reptilian cloak and turn into a handsome prince. Believing and mistrusting, the princess kisses the frog and discovers true love and living happily ever after. Richard, the silly fool, crouched like a frog and hopped around amusing the children with his playful antics.
Another man, thin and wearing a blond wig, clumsily landed a misaimed kiss on Richard earning laughter from the children! Valerie laughed too as the man in the blond wig desperately wiped off his mouth and pretended to fall backwards in disgust. Just as predicted, Richard rolled into a ball and began to quiver like a leaf as his clothes were shredded away. Beneath his purple and green clothes was a second pair of clothes. He tossed the frog mask away and stood tall with both hands on his waist and turned his head proudly while he placed a phony crown on his head. It was true; the frog turned into a handsome prince. Richard wore white clothes with a leather belt and animal hide boots that hugged his body, clearly sculpted by hard labor and experience. Truly, she was impressed.
It was good to laugh again.
As Valerie gained distance between her and the stage, she could feel Richard staring at her and secretly telling her things.