A first day of September

- “A messenger has just delivered a letter for Mr. Laurent. Blanche, will you take it to the MR: Laurent in his office please.” Philomena asked.

Blanche struggled to suppress an audible sigh. She turned to the kind Philomena and said:

-“Of course. Right away.”

She took off her apron, took the envelope, and made her way to the first floor, where Mr. Laurent’s office was located.

- “Gentleman.” she thought to herself as she climbed the stairs. She was terrified of Mr. Laurent. He was an outright bastard who never missed a chance to make her life miserable. Blanche had a hard time breathing as anxiety tightened its grip.

- Oh, dear Lord, please let him leave me alone and dismiss me at once, she prayed in silence. She knocked softly on the office door and waited for him to call her Inside.

- “Good morning, sir.” she almost whispered. She reverenced by dipping her body slightly downwards and bending her knees and walked up to his heavy oak desk. Her employer put down his newspaper, picked up his cigar from the large crystal ashtray on the desk, and looked at her from head to toe as if he were inspecting cattle.

Blanche started to feel even more anxious. She held out her hand with the envelope. Mr. Laurent gave her a piercing look. Blanche had lowered her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see how uncomfortable he made her. He left the maid standing there for a moment with her arm stretched out, made a soft growl, and yanked the envelope from her hands. Blanche bowed again and quickly turned to leave the office.

-” Did I say you could go?” he shouted at her while snapping his fingers like he was ordering a dog to stay put. Blanche’s heart began to beat violently in her chest.

-” Sorry sir.” she stammered and went back to stand in front of his desk.

He gave her another humiliating look and curled his mouth downwards. Blanche did not take offense at that. On the contrary, it was a good sign. It meant he wouldn´t call her to his room right away and make her suffer his eccentric taste.

- “Get out of here” he finally barked. She gladly did of course. Blanche ran as fast as she could back to the kitchen and the safety of Philomena´s presence.

After Blanche left, Mr. Laurent went over the envelope in his hands a few times before he opened it. He knew all too well who the sender was. He recognized it by the fragrance.

“Who does that old crone think she is – smearing her cards with perfume. What does she want now?” He taught out loud. “We have telephones now. Pick it up and tell me the message instead of using these outdated old spinster histrionics”

He stood up and walked to a large mirror on the wall. He looked at himself as he opened the envelope.

- “She summons me.” he said mockingly looking at his reflection. “Tille whistles, Laurent has to jump.”

He hid it well and he would never in a million years admit it, but his aunt scared him. As long as he had a trump card, she would never cut him short or harm his way of life. When his mother died, he inherited the house and an allowance, on the condition he would always take care of his younger brother. His mother had always doted on him. A childhood disease Jerome caught when he was ten, an age at which one does not begin to be quite a child anymore and is nothing else; left him just to be that: an eternal in between child. A gentle child who still missed his mother. Laurent hated him and were it not for the conditions of the will he would have sent Jerome off to an institution or buried him 6 feet under himself.

The staff were fond of Jerome and kept him as well they could out of his brother´s sight. Laurent was cruel to Jerome, especially on nights where he boozed too much and there wasn´t a woman around to satisfy his sadistic lust. The staff protected Jerome as best they could, still Laurent would sometimes look Jerome up and take his frustrations out on him. Not always physical. He took great pleasure in threatening to send him “away” and scaring Jerome by filling his head with invented horror stories. Laurent hated Tille passionately, and normally they didn’t see each other very often. Not even at Christmas. Tille occasionally came to the house to check on Jerome, but she usually did so when Laurent wasn’t home.

Laurent, for his part, sometimes visited Tille, when he needed extra money or if he needed help because he worked himself way into a pickle.

He waited two days to make his way to Tille’s house. Her butler leads him into her office room.

- “Ah, ma chere - you´re still breathing I see”, he started when she walked through the door.” What was so important that you couldn’t tell me about over the phone?”

He had already helped himself to a glass of cognac. Tille didn´t say anything, but she fixed the glass with her eyes to let him know her disapproval. He smiled a crooked smile in response, to show her that he absolutely didn´t care.

- “Now, what is it?” He sighed, dropping himself into a large armchair.

Tille tells him she went to visit Jerome the previous week, but Laurent was nowhere to be seen. She hoped he would fill in where he was, but he yawns in response.

- “Your brother needs new clothes.” She went on, “And I want him to go see a specialist.”

The smug grin on Laurent´s face disappeared instantly. He got angry and irritated:

- “Why? The idiot never goes out, and what he has still does well enough. He costs me enough money as it is.” He emptied his glass in one gulp and continued:

- “I have never heard of a doctor able to cure idiocy. So, you can forget about that.”

Tille kept insisting, and Laurent grew angrier.

- “If her ladyship thinks my simpleton brother needs new clothes… she can buy them herself!” he barked. “And I don´t want another quack in my house!”

Tille got angry too:

- “Is that a new suit you´re wearing?”

- “That´s for work! Surely you don´t expect me to present myself as a pauper.” He sneers at her.

- “Work?” Tille coughed, “And what exactly might that business be?”

Laurent didn´t answer and flew into a fury when his aunt tells him she already arranged for the doctor to come for a visit.

Hoping to calm him down, she reminds him of the conditions of his mother´s will.

- “You do realize that you won´t be here forever, don´t you?” he hissed at Tille, “or do you consider yourself an immortal?

- “What is that supposed to mean? I might encounter a dark gypsy in a red shirt as well one faithful night?” Tille looked her nephew straight in the eyes. Her remark had Laurent fuming. When his mother died, Tille suspected that Laurent had a hand in her passing. There was talk of a break-in, and the fright thereof had led to her sister´s demise. Some valuables had been stolen and a small amount of money. A rumor was spread that a gypsie was seen roaming around the house that night. The police harassed the people in the gypsy camp for weeks, but they never find a “red shirt” man. Laurent himself was supposedly away the night his mother died, though he got back really fast, and of course, really shocked… until the reading of the will. Tille could not get it out of her head, that Laurent was the one who was guilty of her sisters ´passing.

Laurent had a girlfriend once upon a time, a beautiful young ballet dancer. One morning she was found floating in the lake. Again, rumors of a gypsy in a red shirt coursed around town. The girl was buried, almost in a hurry, in a simple plot. Tille paid for the funeral of course, and she saw to it that the girl’s final resting place was tented to. Laurent had shouted in a drunken stupor that he might piss on the little slut´s grave….

- “How is your work going lately?” Tille asks.

- “None of your business!” Laurent barked at her.

He walked home, trying to clear his bad mood, but dark clouds kept growing in his mind. When he got home, he finds Jerome sitting in the kitchen eating a sandwich.

- “Why is the mongrel eating in the middle of the afternoon?”

It was Philomena´s day off, so Hannibal the gardener was left in charge of Jerome.

- “I´m sorry, sir. The boy was hungry.” Hannibal apologized.

Laurent went on shouting insults and vulgarities. He loved mocking Hannibal for his hunchback. He insisted Jerome went to his room, as a punishment for eating early:

- “And you can forget about dinner!” he shouted at the terrified Jerome.

Hannibal started to plead for the boy to be allowed to stay with him, but Laurent kicked over a chair and wouldn´t hear of anything. Jerome hurried to bring his plate to the sink and ran towards the stairs to go up to his room. Laurent went after his brother and stopped him halfway through the stairs:

- “Do you know what the hunter told me?” Laurent said. Jerome looked at his brother, fearing nothing good was going to come out of his mouth. He wanted to cry, but usually, that made his brother even angrier.

- “The water devil is on the prowl again.”

Jerome was scared to death of this legend, and he started to beg Laurent if he could stay with Hannibal a little longer:

- “I´ll be good! I promise.” He cried. Hannibal asked Laurent if Jerome could stay with him a little longer, but Laurent started to threaten the gardener.

Jerome went up to his room and sat on his bed. He kept looking through the window, hoping he would see Philomena come back soon. He looked at the picture of his mother on his nightstand and began to imagine that she was sitting in the garden, under his window and that she would ward off the water devil. Philomena had the picture framed for Christmas as a present. The photograph was taken the summer before his mother died. Jerome was wearing a scarf his mother had knitted for him because the weather was chilly despite it being late summer. He was wearing his papa´s vest. Mama would always let him wear it. His mother had her arm around him in the picture.

- “Don´t let him come in, mama. Please.” Jerome whispered to the picture. He fell asleep with the frame clutched to his chest.

Hannibal had told Philomena about Mister Laurent´s outburst when she came back for work the next morning. She went to wake up Jerome, he was still sitting with his mothers’ pictures in his hands in the same clothes he wore the day before.

- “Good morning, angel!”

Jerome´s eyes lit up when he saw Philomena walk into his room.

- “Good morning!” he answered. “Can I wear pappa´s vest today please?”

Jerome loved his dead father’s black leather jacket vest. It soothed him.

- “Of course, you can.” Philomena replied. “Let´s get you washed first.”

When they went down for breakfast, Laurent’s eye caught Jerome. Upon seeing his brother wearing the vest, he flung into a rage. Philomena hurried to intervene, but nothing would calm down her boss. Jerome had to take the vest off: immediately. Jerome started to cry and reluctantly took the vest off and gave it to his brother. Laurent notices that his father´s gold watch is attached to the vest and started shouting some more abuse at his brother.

- “Papa gave that watch to me.” Jerome cried.

- “Papa gave that watch to you?” Laurent asked in a high-pitched voice. “Since when can you read the time?”

- “Did you notice the water devil in the garden last night?” Laurent taunted his brother.

Jerome shook his head:

- “Mama was here. She won´t let him come in our garden.”

Laurent started to laugh, but something in his brother´s attitude worried him. It was not the first time; Jerome spoke of his mother´s ghost.

The servants never got the chance to mourn the loss of their beloved lady. Laurent simply wouldn´t allow it. His mother had become part of a past life, never to be revisited. An estranged passer-by, whose name never was to be invoked. Philomena told Jerome stories of his mother when she was sure Laurent was nowhere nearby. Jerome loved to hear stories about his mother. He had become so sad since her passing.

The way the servants talked to Laurent, was always a pre-emptive apology. They were always tense around him. Philomena often worried about all that was going on and where it would all lead to. Laurent had cut his brother out of every family picture. She couldn´t understand why he had done this, and she knew better than to ask him.

There was one photograph Laurent tolerated: a picture taken of his mother in her casket. A photographer had pried her eyes open and held them open with double-sided tape. The camera clicked and immortalized the lady with a cartoonish look and her mouth gaping. Philomena couldn´t conceive of the notion that this version of Laurent´s mother was the one Jerome was allowed to look at. It gave Philomena a chill every time she saw it. She had taken it off the wall, wrapped it in a scarf, and tucked it in a closet underneath a box of old clothes. Jerome never took off the mourning band, even though his brother mocked him about it. Maybe it was Jerome´s way of giving his mother an “every day”, with his never-ending mourning. That way there was an after… and a never-ending before.

As a child, Jerome loved to go to Tille´s house. He was very fond of her. She always gave him a bag of candy when he went there with his mother. Now, he was forbidden by his brother to even talk about Tille. Still, he would often tell Philomena about visiting Tille´s house and how she always gave him a bag of candy. And he remembered how his mother would always say that the candy was not to be eaten all at once.

Tille lived in a big white house with doors of beautifully carved wood and two lion heads for doorknobs. Tille was a fascinating woman; she had an elegance about her that transpired in the slightest of her moves. Unlike other women in the village, she was always beautifully dressed, and she wore jewelry even on weekdays.

Jerome would sit next to her on a chaise longue, mesmerized by a bracelet she wore. It had exquisite charms: angels, a tree of life, and blooms. Each charm had a story and Jerome knew them all.

Her nails were always manicured to perfection and painted in a flashy red. She smoked long cigarettes with gilded filters. Jerome loved to wander around in her house; he felt safe there in that big house. Tille always gave Jerome coloring books. He loved to color, but more than that it was the colors themselves he loved. And Jerome loved staring at the chandeliers, especially when they caught the sun and covered the room in rainbow sparkles. That always made him happy. Tille always called Laurent “the tyrant”.

Things changed in Jerome´s house after his mother passed away. There was like a presence: not like Satan or God, but something potent, nonetheless.

Laurent had a friend: Charles. A rich man, but very stingy. Just like Laurent, he too was a manipulative, lying, creature. Charles was a charming widower. Rumors had it he killed his wife, but nothing could ever be proven. He had made his fortune during the war, by declaring people to the Germans. He was a traitor, a blackmailer, and a smuggler. He had convinced highly placed people that he performed acts of valor.

Laurent wasn’t particularly fond of Charles, but he had helped him one fine evening to shoot a young man to whom Laurent owned a lot of money. Under the cover of darkness. Charles had shot the man in the stomach. Laurent watched in fascination as the dying man began to beg for help. He looked so pale and had a very hard time breathing. He stood towering over the dying man as he began to rattle, complain, and beg for his life. Laurent was enjoying a cigarette, while without blinking an eye, Charles shot the man one more time in the chest.

Ever since Charles had been a regular guest at Laurent´s house. Together they loved horrifying Jerome with scary stories. They even made up a story about where they had buried the man they shot.

- “You know, Jerome on certain nights there’s a black figure walking around here. In the street and also in the farm court. He likes to jump on people’s backs, and then force them to carry him all the way back to hell. He comes here on earth to collect souls as punishment for all the corpses the enemy had shot dead in the war. You always know that devil or demon is coming because he always sends a black cat ahead of him.

Of course, Jerome went hysterical every time he saw a black cat in the yard at night. To the amusement of Laurent and his friend.

Hannibal had found a dog one day. He loved animals and he brought the dog back home with him. To chase away the cats that went ahead of that night demon, he told Jerome who was paralyzed with fear after hearing the macabre tale. He even stopped eating.

The dog had been abused by its former owners, but together with Hannibal, Jerome won his trust over after a great deal of effort and dedication. Now it seemed the dog could sense when Jerome was depressed or near despair and would rest his head in his lap to comfort him. They called him Cesar. Jerome and Hannibal spoke with such affection of Cesar, that Philomena wasn´t sure they were talking about an animal or a friend. Laurent didn’t want the dog in his house. The dog didn’t like him, as soon as he saw him coming, he started to growl. Cesar hid behind a cupboard and kept a close eye on Laurent, when he was threatening Jerome again, he would frantically jump out of the corner at Laurent. Hannibal managed to calm Cesar down and tried to explain to Laurent that the dog only wanted to protect Jerome.

Laurent stared at the dog for a long time, then declared it creepy:

- “I want that mutt out of my house. And fast! Understood?”

Jerome wept bitterly, but Hannibal assured him that he would take good care of Cesar and see that Mr. Laurent could do him no harm.

One evening Jerome stumbled into the kitchen completely unexpectedly, and drunk. He startled the dog, who immediately jumped at him. Hannibal managed to pacify Cesar and brought him into the garden. Laurent was roaring and ranting that the fucking dog bit him and that he needed to be put down. Philomena was able to calm him.

Unfortunately, Laurent had not forgotten about the incident the next day. After dark, he went to the gun cabinet in his office and took out his favorite shotgun. He walked very quietly to the kitchen and stood very still behind the door. When he heard the voices of the servants in the kitchen and was sure that his brother and the dog were there, he stamped in, took the dog by the scruff of the neck, and dragged him through the back door into the garden. He shot the dog dead at close range.

Jerome let out a piercing scream. Laurent looked at his brother and grinned.

- “I told you that mutt had to.” Laurent lit a cigarette and kicked the dead dog before going back inside. He glanced at Philomena who was standing in shock in the kitchen.

- “And make sure I don’t hear any lamenting from that moron, or else you can pack your suitcase. Understood?”

Laurent walked up the stairs to his office with his rifle over his shoulder. He poured himself a cognac with one hand and admired his image in the mirror. He took a pose as if he had defeated a ferocious tiger in the wilderness.

- “That damned dog got what he deserved.” he said to his reflection in the mirror.” It`ll teach them not to listen to me: that beast was possessed. I could see it in his eyes. Good riddance!”

- “Salute!” he made a toast to himself by clicking his glass against the mirror.

Blanche had heard the shot, and though she couldn’t quite make out what had happened, she knew doom was in the air. She could hear Laurent’s mumbling. Her bedroom was above his office. She quickly jumped out of bed to double-check if her bedroom door was locked properly. Not that it made any difference, Laurent had already kicked in the door a few times.

- “Dear Lord, hear my prayer, please don’t let him come here tonight.”

She took the rosary her mother gave her a long time ago of a bedpost, kissed it, and began to pray with conviction. Blanche didn’t dare move, for fear that the slightest sound would attract mister Laurent. She listened to every sound, the creaking of the floor, a door opening or closing somewhere in the house.

Her last bleeding hadn´t come. Blanche wasn’t a learned girl, but she knew all too well what that could mean.

She thought back to her childhood when she was a little girl living with her mother and father. Her mind took her back to the day when she had to leave her childhood home, or what was left of it after the bombing. She had to bury her parents in the poor cemetery. The gravedigger hadn’t put much on their gravestone, she couldn´t even tell what was engraved in the little stone, because she couldn’t read. But she had insisted on their names engraved in it. Too many people had been thrown nameless in their graves.

She had sworn she would come by very often and bring flowers. and that she would pray every day for their souls.

On Philomena’s arm, she had walked a last time, passed the little house in which she had lived with her parents and now lay in ruins.

The bombing had killed her parents and turned her into a crippled person.

The young men in the village always laughed at her when she limped past, would mock, and imitate her, and then laugh out loud. She had overheard women say:

- “She will probably never get married, look at that; see how she limps.

Her infirmity never stopped Mr. Laurent though. At first, he jumped her in the dark, later also in broad daylight, anywhere in the house where she worked as a maid: his house. He’d even pulled her out of bed by her hair a few times and dragged her to his room. First, he would hit her hard because she had dared to scream. Blanche squeezed her eyes shut as she watched the film unfold before her eyes, of all the things he did to her or made her do. She had talked about it with Philomena, who then had gone to talk to Mrs. Tille. But after Tille had addressed the issue with mister Laurent, he had stormed into her room like a mad dog and threatened to throw her out on the street right there and then and make it known everywhere what a filthy liar and a dirty whore she was. And where would she go?

Where would she end up? In the gutter! Fodder for the farmers, among the other whores Laurent had screamed at her. She had begged him on her knees not to throw her out on the street. He had beaten her up so badly that night while Philomena was in the hallway banging on the door because she couldn´t come in the room to protect Blanche from mister Laurent´s wrath. She feared Laurent would beat her to death. He had locked the door and all Philomena could do, was listen in horror to what the poor girl had to endure.

Philomena had taken good care of her after that and came to pray with her every night: for the sinners and the lost.

Jerome even came to visit her once. He had picked flowers for her. She asked him to take the flowers to her parents’ grave because Philomena had not allowed her to get up for two weeks. But Philomena said the flowers were for Blanche. And put them in a beautiful vase on the table next to her bed. She would arrange for Hannibal to pick other flowers with Jerome and then take them to her parents’ grave.

Philomena had taken Blanche under her wing, but she wasn’t always able to protect her. She already had so much to do with all of Mr. Laurent’s demands and the suffering he put on Jerome. It was a dire straight for the boy.

All was quiet in the house. Perhaps Mr. Laurent had fallen asleep and would leave her alone.

-“Thank you, dear Lord!” Blanche sighed. She kissed the rosary and hung it back on the bedpost.

Laurent had fallen asleep, but he slept uneasily lately. Visited by strange dreams, he would wake up entrapped in the dark atmosphere that woke him from his slumber. A dog! He saw a big black dog sitting in a corner of his room. It just sat there: staring at him…

Lately, Philomena often felt something oppressive around her heart. She took her rosary out of her pocket and began to pray; that no evil hand would come upon the house or stables and that the dear Lord would keep them from all misfortunes. She prayed for all those in need and for the dying that they might die a soft death.

Philomena was startled from her pious prayer when there was a knock on the kitchen window. Her eyes lit up at the sight of little Michel, the feeble-minded but very sweet son of tenant farmers. He was a poor kid, the other children often made life unmercifully miserable for him. He had always been fond of the great and noble lady of the house. She had looked at him so lovingly with happy contentment in her soft blue eyes.

- “How are you, my boy?” asked Philomena, “Are you hungry? come I’ll make you a sandwich.”

Jerome was sitting at the kitchen table making drawings for his mama. His lips and tongue were all blue because he kept putting his pencil in his mouth. All three of them had a hearty laugh about it.

Philomena asked little Michel how he was doing, and he started to talk about his parents, the people in the village, and everything that was going on at the farm and in the stables. He said he often heard his father complain that there were too few workers to bring in the harvest.

Philomena’s thoughts drifted back to the time when her beloved lady was still alive. A grand and noble woman who, in her simple life, stood in stark contrast to her eldest son, who was arid, cruel, and hateful. She always spoke to Michel as if he were her own son, and that made the boy feel good.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She stood by the window and stared at the sunlit yard beyond the kitchen.

She had that oppressive feeling about her heart again as if to warn her of worries to come.

Suddenly the door swung open:

- “What’s “that” supposed to do here?” Laurent snorted.

Philomena quickly wiped the tears from her face and turned around.

- “That’s Michel sir. He often came to visit your mother, and she would give him a sandwich.”

Jerome kept his eyes lowered, paralyzed with fear that his brother might hurt the boy.

- “And where does that come from?” Laurent snapped as he circled the table where the boys were sitting, like a predator trying to corner its prey.

-“He is the son of the Hendricks tenants. “Philomena hurried to explain.

- “Oh, that scum.” Laurent snorted again, “They are already three months behind on their rent and then they have the audacity to let their offspring come here and beg for food?”

Little Michel turned all red, he couldn’t swallow the piece of bread he had in his mouth.

Laurent kicked a chair over, took little Michel roughly by the arm, and pulled him to the door. Philomena put her hands in front of her face.

Laurent opened the kitchen door, threw little Michel out, and gave him a kick in the back.

-“There! You little monstrosity. Don’t ever let me catch you around here again, do you hear? And tell that deadbeat father of yours I’ll come by tomorrow for my money.” With a loud thud, he slammed the door shut. Philomena looked quickly through the window to see if all was well with little Michel. “And look at this moron,” Laurent raved. he slammed a fist into his other hand. Philomena feared that Jerome would be the next victim of his frustration.

-“He’s just coloring a few drawings, sir.” said Philomena, coming up with a washcloth to clean Jerome’s face.

Jerome huddled, trembling with fear, expecting his brother to slap him at any moment.

“Make sure he is clean and neatly dressed; he will come with me today.

Jerome looked at Philomena anxiously.

“It’s so hot today, sir, and the boy hasn’t slept well.” Philomena tried to change Laurent’s mind, but

He answered her with spitting eyes.

-“Okay, come Jerome. We’re going to tidy you up. You`re going out with your big brother today. So, you must look very finest.

She squeezed her hand tightly around Jerome’s hands and pulled him out of the kitchen and up the stairs as best she could.

Jerome cried softly.

-“Come on boy.” said Philomena. “Don’t cry. She took a suit out of the closet and helped him change as quickly as she could.

-“I don’t want to go.” Jerome sputtered

-“I know dear,” replied Philomena, kissing his head.

-“You know what? While you’re away with your brother, I’ll bake a nice flan for when you come back. And you have to tell me everything you’ve seen. OK?”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Jerome pouted.

“Another time, all right, honey?”

She quickly combed his hair, wiped his face one more, and then walked back downstairs where Laurent was already waiting for them. He judged Jerome as if he were cattle and pushed him ahead through the door.

“I’ve got a guest tonight! Make sure to bring something fancy to the table.” he snapped at Philomena

-“Of course, sir.”

Jerome raised his hand to wave at Hannibal who was working in the large front yard. Laurent hit him on the back of his head.

-“Behave, will you. You are not going to the fair. You´re such a peasant.” he said sternly.

Jerome tried to swallow his tears, knowing he would only make his brother angrier if he noticed he was crying.

-“Can we go to Mama’s grave?” he asked carefully

“We’ll see,” Laurent snapped with tight lips, then smiled broadly and waved hello to a young woman.

They came to the little bridge of the toll booth.

- “Dangerous criminals once buried a crook here, Laurent began. At night he always comes out of his grave because he cannot rest in peace.”

Jerome slowed his pace, he became frightened, but his brother pushed him forward.

At the end of the canal, they came to a small pond and Laurent grabbed Jerome by the arm, forcing him to stop.

- “Look Jerome,” he said with a smug look on his face, “here the devil himself lives.”

Jerome began to tremble all over.

- “Every day that poor wretch has to come out of his grave, raid people and bring their money to the devil.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jerome saw a black cat. He began to cry hysterically, tore himself free from Laurent’s grasp, and ran back home as fast as he could. Without stopping, he ran through the green meadows and the cornfields.

Hannibal looked over the hedge and saw the poor boy running all upset towards the house.

-What did he do now to that boy? he said under his breath and headed towards Jerome as fast as he could. He caught him in his arms and the boy lost consciousness. His face was all red with sweat and tears.

- “Philomena.” Hannibal shouted. He was at the front of the house and Philomena was in the kitchen in the back of the house, making it impossible for her to hear him.

He frantically looked around and saw Blanche coming out of the house towards him.

“Go get Philomena, quickly,” he called to her.

Blanche stood wide-eyed like a pillar of salt, staring at the boy on the floor.

- “Blanche! Hannibal shouted louder: “go get Philomena, quick! “Blanche immediately turned around and ran to the kitchen.

- “Philomena - you have to come to the front.” she said gasping for air. “Jerome... Jerome....”

- “Quick!”

Philomena ran through the house to the front, pulled open the large front door, and ran down the stairs to the hedge where Hannibal had caught the boy.

- “What in God’s name has happened.” she asked panting.

- “I don’t know.” Hannibal said. “He came running here yelling and raving as if the devil was on his heels and then he collapsed.”

- “What has he done now to that poor boy? „Philomena sighed

- “I´m asking myself the same question.” Hannibal said.

Philomena began to cry softly. She sat down beside Jerome and laid his head in her lap.

- “Poor boy.” she murmured. She used her skirt to brush brushed off the dust from his forehead and mouth. Blanche came running with cold water.

Philomena soaked a cloth in water and laid it on Jerome’s forehead. He opened his eyes and immediately started screaming again. Philomena held him tight and pressed him against her.

-“Hush, boy, everything will be fine. Calm down.”

Jerome stammered a row of words, but Philomena didn’t understand a single thing he said.

-“Come on boy let’s go in. “

Hannibal helped the woman and the boy up and walked them inside. Philomena led Jerome to his room and ran a bath for him. He kept holding her hand as if his life depended on it.

-“What happened?” Philomena asked when Jerome had calmed down a bit. He grabbed her arm with both his hands

-“The devil...the devil...over there by the pool.” Jerome was hyperventilating “I saw his cat. He’s coming to get me.”

Philomena wrenched herself from his grasp and grabbed his face between her hands.

-“Hush now, boy! No one is coming to get you here. Don’t be afraid, everything will be all right!” she took Jerome in her arms and rocked him back and forth. She wanted to let him sleep for a while, but he was far too scared to stay alone.

-“Come on boy,” she said. “We’re going to sit in the yard under the apple tree. I’ve got cold lemonade, made especially for you.”

Jerome crouched behind Philomena, clinging to her hand.

- “Bring some lemonade to the apple tree.” Philomena said to Blanche in the kitchen.

Hannibal had unfolded a large recliner and had Jerome lay down on it. He crawled into a fetal position, with his thumb in his mouth. Philomena sat on the edge of the lawn chair and stroked his hair.

-“When will Mommy come back?” Jerome asked softly.

-“Oh boy.” sighed Madeleine, “try to sleep a little, soon everything will look completely different again.”

In silent reverie, Philomena sat staring straight ahead as she continued to stroke the boy`s hair. Everyone in the village had called her lady, the Mother. Her very being itself was love and care for her children and the mothers of other children. She always had such an infallible feeling; she knew exactly when the boy was in danger and needed her. Philomena wondered if she would be able to feel it now as well.

Philomena was startled out of her melancholy when she saw Laurent enter the yard.

- “O dear Lord, help us.” she muttered softly.

- “Well, well. look at this: a baby”. Laurent started mockingly when he saw Jerome with his thumb in his mouth. He gave the armchair a hard kick.

- “Stop that!” he snapped. Jerome had just fallen asleep and started to cry again because his brother woke him so roughly from his sleep. Laurent sighed dramatically.

- “Sorry sir. Forgive me, but the boy was in shock when he got home and...” Philomena couldn’t finish her sentence.

- “Did you hear me ask for your opinion?”

Laurent barked.

- “No sir, but if I may ...”

- “You may not!”, Laurent interrupted Philomena again.

Philomena helped Jerome sit up and handed him a glass of lemonade.

“And you, you son of a bitch,” he redirected his anger at his brother, “you’re punished!”

Jerome looked at Laurent in fear.

“Run off like an imbecile. From now on you will stay in your room all week. I don’t want to hear or see you. Did you understand me?”

Jerome looked desperately at Philomena. Laurent kicked the garden chair again because his brother didn’t answer him quickly enough. Jerome dropped his glass and began to sob.

- “Did you hear what I said?” Laurent yelled. “Go away. now!”

Philomena picked up the glass Jerome had dropped and helped him to his room.

- “Come my boy, don’t cry. I’ll help you upstairs.”

- “And I need to talk to you too!” Laurent shouted after Philomena.

- “Of course, sir. I’ll take Jerome to his room and then I’ll come straight to you.”

Laurent spat on the floor:

- “Make sure you won’t be long.”

- “Yes sir, I will hurry up.” Philomena said.

Laurent kicked the recliner again and stood, hands on his sides, peering over the garden.

Philomena led Jerome to his room and set him on a chair by the window.

- “Here boy, sit down. From here you can see Hannibal working in the garden and I’ll come wave to you now and then, okay? I’m going to talk to Mr. Laurent now and then I’ll bring you a carafe of water and a sandwich.”

Jerome nodded sadly: “Please don´t be gone too long.”

- “I’m going as fast as I can.” Philomena said, rushing downstairs.

- “Make some sandwiches for Jerome for lunch,” she told Blanche in the kitchen.” I’ll bring them upstairs as soon as I’m done with Mr. Laurent.”

Blanche raised her eyebrows inquiringly but saw that Philomena wasn’t ready to explain the how and why.

- “Philomena,” Blanche ventured cautiously,” I need to talk to you too.”

Philomena stopped in the doorway, wiped her forehead with her sleeve, looked at Blanche, and nodded.

“Later,” she sighed, “later.”

She took a look at herself in the large mirror in the hall, wiped her hands on her handkerchief, and walked to Mr. Laurent’s office.

She knocked on the door and waited for him to call her in. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw he was already drinking.

- “Sir.” She spoke.

He threw her a ruthless look:” Who last cleaned up in here?” he asked, sliding his finger over the edge of his desk, and then sticking it out as if to show Philomena the dust that lay on it.

- “Miss Blanche, sir.” Philomena hastened to answer. She wanted to get back down and take care of Jerome as soon as possible.

- “Sit down!” he ordered her.

Philomena reluctantly sat down. Her heart was beating like a subway train and sweat beaded on her forehead. She pulled out her handkerchief to dab her face.

- “Go it out!” she shouted to him in her head.

- “I’m having a visitor tonight.” Laurent began. “I want a decent supper!”

- “Yes sir. Do not worry. I will take care of it.”

- “I know what’s going on here”, Laurent continued, finishing his glass in one gulp.

Philomena looked at him questioningly:” Sir?”

Laurent looked at her haughtily: “I said” he started with exaggerated emphasis; “I know all too well what happens here when I am not here.”

- “What is it you are talking about, sir?”

Philomena asked.

- “Oh, don’t play so innocent, you old cow.” Laurent snapped.

Philomena was startled by his blowout and searched for appropriate words to reply. “Sorry sir,” she whispered.

- “Take a look at this desk, you call this clean?” Philomena followed his finger with her gaze, but she couldn’t see anything that provoked his anger or gave him grounds to complain.

- “You are not satisfied, sir?” she stammered

- “That little bitch must have been pretending she was busy. Tired of resting, yeah?

Philomena barely managed to get the words out, but she still came across coherently:” If it suits you, sir, I will take care of your office from now on.”

“Oh, shut up,” he snapped.” Did you think I didn’t know you are on in this?

- “Sir, please, explain to me what it is you are talking about, because I can’t follow you.” Philomena’s throat was bone dry.

- “Deceitful bitch.” he shouted, his eyes black as coal and full of hatred and anger.

Laurent turned his back to Philomena and walked to the window. As he stood there with his back to her, she quickly wiped her forehead with her sleeve again. She sat in silence for a moment, because she knew that whatever she said would be taken the wrong way. Laurent jerked around and walked back to the sideboard where his liquor was displayed.

- “Dear Lord, help me!” Philomena prayed silently while Laurent was pouring a new glass

- “I can’t find anything. Either it has been moved or that little whore is stealing from me.”

- “Sir.” Philomena began indignantly.

- “Look at my office: everything is rearranged criss-cross.”

- “Look!” he stamped his foot on the ground. Philomena looked around, but she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

- “Sir, would it please you more if I cleaned your office from now on? Maybe I can make a list of where you want everything.”

He looked at her suspiciously. Philomena stared at him for a moment, she didn’t know what else to say. She noticed that Laurent was very tense because he had a tick around his left eye: a nervous streak. He took another long gulp from his glass and grimaced as the alcohol burned down his throat.

- “Shall I bring some water, sir?” Philomena asked. She wanted to break the silence and get out of that office as quickly as possible.

He cocked his head, and asked:” Do you know anything about this?”

Philomena shook her head.

- “´m having a hard time imagining that you don’t know anything about this.”

- “I don’t know what to answer you, sir.”

Philomena said softly.” ’’From now on, I will personally take care of your office. I will have a word with Miss Blanche.

Laurent was staring at something behind Philomena, she couldn’t help but turn her head and see what he was so fixated on. There was nothing to see. She turned her head back to Laurent, who still stood in the same position, staring at something behind her.

- “Sir?” Philomena tried cautiously.

He let out a deep sigh and blinked his eyes: “What are you still doing here?” he barked at her.

- “Sorry sir. I’m going now.”

In the hallway, she paused and took a few deep breaths, and ran downstairs. Blanche had prepared some sandwiches for Jerome.

- “All right Philomena?” she asked.

Philomena nodded and grabbed Jerome`s lunch

- “Philomena.” Blanche called after her

- “Yes darling. Let me go to Jerome first when come I will listen to you. Please stay in the kitchen.”

Philomena quickly climbed the stairs to Jerome’s room. He was still sitting in the window seat. he had the picture frame pressed against him; she could see that he had been crying.

- “Hey my boy. I’m sorry it took so long. I brought you some tasty sandwiches.”

- “I’m not hungry.” Jerome said.

Philomena walked to him:

- “What are you looking at?”

Jerome didn’t answer her

- “What do you see?” she asked.

- “Mom will be here soon.” he said. “Can I come out of my room then?

Philomena stroked his head and kissed him.

- “You got to eat something boy and get some sleep. Time goes a little faster when you sleep. I will ask mister Laurent if you can leave your room tomorrow.”- “

I’m not hungry.” Jerome said again.

Philomena let out a deep sigh and put the plate on a table next to the window: “Okay; I’ll be back later.”

Jerome sat motionlessly.

Philomena looked at him with concern, then went back to the kitchen, where Blanche was polishing silver. Philomena dropped to a chair and buried her face in her hands.

- “Philomena?” Blanche asked, “What’s the matter?”

- “Don’t you worry yourself, girl “the weary woman sighed. She took a deep breath and continued: “I have to start dinner for tonight, Mr. Laurent has a guest.”

- “Should I serve up tonight?” Blanche asked,” Shall I put on my black dress?”

- “No!” Philomena snapped surprised at her own reaction.

- “No girl, tonight I am going to serve. You go to bed, and please lock your door well.”

Blanch nodded.

Now clean up that silver polish and come help me cook. I’m going to take a look at Jerome. That poor boy sits there all alone and scared. He keeps talking about his mother coming… that can´t be good.”

Jerome was still sitting on the chair in the same position by the window. He hadn’t touched his food. Philomena placed her hands on his shoulders: “You didn’t eat anything.”

- “I’m not hungry.” Jerome answered again very dryly.

Philomena sighed again: “I must start dinner now for Mr. Laurent and his guest. Shall I bring you some coloring pages? You can make a nice drawing for your aunt Tille.”

Jerome didn’t answer and just kept staring out the window.

- “I’ll come and see you in a bit.” she kissed him and walked out the door. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Blanche was waiting for her.

- “What are you doing here?” Philomena asked Blanche.

- “Mr. Laurent is looking for you.” Blanche said nervously, biting her nails. “He is waiting for you in the drawing-room”.

- “What is it now?” Philomena thought to herself.

- “Thank you. You go back to the kitchen now; I’ll be right over to help you.” Philomena looked at herself in the mirror again, ran a hand through her hair, and headed for the drawing-room. Laurent was waiting for her with another drink in his hands.

- “It took long enough.” Laurent said as she entered.

- “Sorry sir.”

- “What are we eating tonight?” he asked.

- “I haven’t gotten around putting a menu together yet, sir. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure there’s something delicious on the table. Shall I notify you when I am done with the planning?”

- “I’m asking you now! What do you do all day?” he snapped.

- “Sorry sir. I will ...”

Laurent waved his hand wildly to silence her.

- “My guest will be staying for a few nights.” he said gruffly.

- “I will prepare a room, sir.”

- “He will be my bodyguard. I don’t feel safe here anymore. Someone has to come live with me for a while to protect me. I expect everyone to treat him with respect, did you understand that Philomena? he asked sternly.

- “Of course, sir.”

He waved his hand again for her to go out

When she came back into the kitchen, she ran to the tap and splashed cold water on her face.

“God give me strength,” she whispered as she wiped her face.

She turned around: Blanche wasn’t in the kitchen, despite telling her she had to stay there.

- “Blanche!” Philomena called out, “Blanche where are you?”

When Blanche finally appeared in the kitchen she was flustered and red-eyed.

Philomena looked at her and immediately got that tight feeling around her heart again.

- “Go to your room, freshen up and then come back:” she said to Blanche. The girl nodded and headed for her room.

-Dear Lord, what more is to come? Philomena prayed. She grabbed a pencil and paper and started writing down what she needed to cook supper and what to get out of the cellar. She made a list for Hannibal as well, so Blanche could go ask him the vegetables she needed from the garden: tomatoes, onions, and parsley. Then she went into the cellar and brought the wine, onions, garlic - and took the meat out of the cooler.

Philomena planned cheese and fruit for dessert. It´s all she had time for anyways.

Blanche was sent to find Hannibal as soon as she appeared in the kitchen.

- “Don’t be too long, Blanche.” Philomena told her,” No diddle dandling. We still have a lot of work to do.” Blanche nodded and went to look for Hannibal. Philomena’s thoughts wandered off to Jerome sitting alone in his room.

- Poor boy, she thought. Poor poor boy. She put on her apron and started to prepare the food. Blanche soon came back with a basket full of vegetables. She put the basket on the table and looked at Philomena.

- “I could use a hand.” Philomena said. Blanche grabbed a knife and started cleaning and cutting the veggies.

- “I don’t feel well, Philomena.” she said softly. She wasn´t sure the women heard her - but Philomena did hear, and she nodded without looking at Blanche.

- “How long?” she asked

- “I don´t know about these things.” Blanche started to cry.

Philomena let out a sigh.

- “I will have to take you to see a doctor. “Philomena uttered. Blanche just nodded. Philomena wanted to tell her at least a hundred things, but she didn’t. What would be the point right now?

- “Don’t you go worrying now. Everything will be all right.” she repeated it one more time, hoping she could convince herself that everything was going to be okay. She got up and started making the soup.

- “I’m going to check on Jerome, really quick. Then I have to make up a room because Mr. Laurent’s guest is staying here for a few days. I don’t know how long. You stay in the kitchen, you hear me. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done. When Hannibal comes in give him a bowl of soup and bread and cheese.”

Blanche nodded and Philomena made her way to the linen room and took everything she needed to freshen up the room and make the bed again.

She went to the room that had been Nancy’s for a while after Laurent banished her from his room. Tille had insisted that she continue to have board and lodging in Laurent’s house until the child she bore was born. The poor child had nowhere to go.

She opened the door hesitantly, looked around. She thought she could still smell Nancy and flung open the windows. Then she went to look on Jerome again. She was deeply concerned about the poor state of mind he was in. He was still sitting in the same position.

- “lie down a little, why don´t you? Sitting still for that long isn’t good.” Philomena said.

- “No!” Jerome said. This surprised Philomena, it was the first time she heard him say no.

- “You didn´t drink anything.” Philomena remarked.

- “I’m not thirsty.” Jerome said without looking at Philomena.

- “You’re going to get sick if you don’t drink. “She kissed him and hurried back downstairs, glanced into the kitchen. Blanche was making the soup, and Philomena was pleased with the smell that greeted her.

- “Don´t cry! Not now, you’re just going to give yourself a headache. We’re going to the doctor one of these days. and I’ll go talk to madam Tille. We’ll figure something out.” She said when she saw Blanche crying.

- “You’re right, Philomena.” Blanche sobbed. Her eyes were very red. She wiped her tears on her apron.

Philomena hurried back to Jerome’s room one last time: “Try to get some sleep, boy.” she said when she opened the door

- “Mommy will be here soon.” He said.

Philomena was too tired to say anything meaningful, she walked over to Jerome and kissed his head.

- “Don’t forget to drink!” she said,” I’ll be back later.” Jerome did not answer her.

She ran downstairs and then up the stairs in the hall again to get the room ready.

She paused in the door of the room to catch her breath.

-Dear Lord, give me strength, she prayed, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to simply sit down on a chair to let her tears flow freely. But she didn’t have time for that now. She walked to the open window and took a deep breath. In the distance, she saw the houses of the village and the church. It was a hot day.

Her thoughts kept floating back to Nancy. There was a time when Laurent would frequently visit the opera house in the city before he sought out other ways to be distraught. He went there to see and most of all, be seen. Show people his most charismatic side.

He became obsessed with the dancers at the opera, and eventually, he found his way backstage. The girls were from the lowest classes, and the glamor bestowed upon them was just enough to make them desirable mistresses rf a transactional pleasure for the night.

Eventually, he was banned from there because some girls had complained that he couldn’t keep his hands keep to himself. His hunt hadn’t been in vain, for it was there he had discovered Nancy, a girl, who felt so honored that the gentleman from her village was paying her so much attention. He turned her head and made her all kinds of wild promises.

Nancy was the daughter of village shopkeepers. When the weather was fine, and she didn’t have to go dancing at the opera, she helped her parents in the shop. She would sit on the sidewalk in front of the store and sell chocolate, cakes, sandwiches, shoelaces, and postcards. She was always able to tell who was in love in the village. The young men who came to buy cards with flowers on them were the ones who had a crush or had an eye on a girl.

Nancy had long black hair, and her eyes shone with the jolly sparkle of youth enchanting everybody with her smile.

She would reply very snappy when one of the young men from the village said funny things to her.

Laurent started hanging around the shop more and more.

She usually wore a black ribbon around her white neck. When there were no customers, and her parents were out of sight, she turned all her attention to Laurent, who made her head soar and her heart beat faster.

In the evening they would lay on the edge of the canal next to the church.

On a warm June evening, Laurent came up with the idea of ​​sitting in church. It would be cool and pleasant in there. Most people were sitting at their table having dinner at this hour, so they would have peace and privacy there.

- “But that’s our dear Lord’s house.” Nancy said, “We can’t do that.”

- “And why not?” Lauren asked, “didn’t Jesus say to love one other?”

- “yes, but I don´t think he meant to make out with one another under his eyes in his house.”

- “Didn’t he?” Laurent snapped. “Come on!” he pulled her up by her arm.” we’re going to sit down in the cool church.”

Nancy hesitated for a moment and looked around to make sure no one saw them. Laurent pulled her inside. Nancy held his hand tight and tiptoed.

- “Wait!” she whispered when they were inside. She dipped two fingers in the holy water vessel and quickly made a sign of the cross. She pursed her lips tightly together and pointed in the direction of the holy water vessel with her head, making Laurent understand that he should do the same. He raised his eyebrows for a moment, then splashed into the holy water and sprinkled a sign of the cross over his face and chest:

- “Hmm, nice and refreshing.” he giggled.

- “Shh, Nancy whispered.” We must be quiet here.”

- “Why? Are you afraid you’re going to wake up the saints?” Laurent joked and dragged her to the confessional. Nancy struggled for a while

- “What’s the problem?” Laurent asked,” Aren’t all sins forgiven here? Come on, we can close the curtains.”

Reluctantly, Nancy let him pull her into the confessional. Laurent sat in the confessor’s chair, while Nancy fiddled with the purple curtain a little more to make sure she closed them completely.

He yanked her onto his lap and began to kiss her deeply. His hands ran hungrily all over her body. Nancy thought her heart would jump out of her chest when he went under her blouse and began to squeeze her breasts. She was scared.

His hands slid down under her skirt and between her legs. He started tugging at her underpants.

- “Oh dear!” she let out. Never had she felt such feelings before, she was terrified, but returned his fiery kisses with just as much passion. He pulled his hands away for a moment and brought them to her face, which he held tightly between his hands. He started licking her face and her neck.

Nancy never felt so scared and excited at the same time. Part of her wanted to run far away as fast as she could, and another part didn’t want to break the spell.

She wasn’t exactly sure what to do, or if she was doing everything right, she just followed his movements.

He lifted her and made her sit on his lap with her legs apart. He began to rub himself. He didn’t stop kissing her. He cupped the buttocks and forced her back and forth with his hands, pulled up her blouse, opened her bra with one hand, and began to kiss her breasts wildly.

- “Come on baby”, he gasped, “you’re so hot. I can’t get enough of you.” he moaned. Take off your knickers, come on.” Nancy paused and wanted to withdraw.

He took her chin in his hand and looked at her intently: “You can’t stop now! You love me, right?”

Nancy nodded nervously. He started to pull roughly at her underpants: “Come on baby, take it off. I love you! I love you so much! And I know you want this too!”

She got up and took her knickers off, while Laurent quickly opened his bridges, got up, and pushed her to the floor

Before she could say anything, he lay on top of her, pushing his cock roughly inside her.

-Dear Lord, what was that? This stabbing pain was she tearing up? She wanted to scream, but bit her tongue and pressed her lips together, her breath caught in her throat, as she clenched her hands into his back.

- “Stop!” she whispered “Please stop. you are hurting me.”

- “That will pass.” he gasped and continued to move up and down.

Nancy twisted her face. A few tears rolled down her face. He was longer kissing her, he seemed to be in another place, a world of his own where she might be trespassing at the slightest wrong move. He reminded her of a bull. An angry bull. And he scared her.

-Oh my god the pain. That’s probably a punishment from God, she thought anxiously. Now I’m definitely going to hell after I die.

- “Laurent, you are hurting me bad.”, she whispered when she thought she wouldn´t be able to take it anymore. He ignored what she was saying, and pushed deeper in her, more violently.

Somewhere a door opened... she was sure.

- “Laurent someone is coming in.” she whispered almost hysterically, immediately forgetting all the pain in her lower body. It didn’t seem to bother him, he kept riding her even wilder now, and then dropped on her with a loud moan.

Nancy lay petrified, Laurent just lay panting. Nancy could feel your heartbeat.

Somebody gave a jerk at the curtain, and it opened.

Nancy lifted her head and looked straight into the face of Martha, the postman’s wife. The woman had put her hands to her mouth in indignation, her eyes were as big as coals. Then she turned abruptly and ran out of the church. The echo of her shoes sounded loud as thunder in the otherwise empty church.

- “Oh God, Laurent, what now, what now?” Nancy began to cry. “Come on, quickly, we have to get out of here.”

Laurent kissed her on the nose. The sweat that seeped from his hair fell on her face.

- “That was nice baby! do you have a handkerchief?”

- “Get up Laurent, please.” Nancy begged. Why was he so calm, and what did he want with a handkerchief?

- “Wait a minute.” he said” I need to clean myself up. If other bitches out there, smell that I fucked, they’ll all hang around my neck.” he laughed. Nancy didn’t understand what he meant, she just wanted to get out of that church as quickly as possible. She was convinced that Martha had run to her mother. Laurent got up and zipped his pants when the curtain was pulled back again. Nancy quickly grabbed her underpants and looked at the parish priest, whose eyes seemed able to ignite purgatory right there and then. He looked at Nance with disgust, lips curled, looking at her from head to toe, keeping his gaze fixed at the blood trickling down the insides of her legs.

Nancy didn’t know what to do with herself. She pulled up her blouse and held her arms to her chest as if she could protect herself from that dreadful gaze of the priest. Overcome by discomfort and embarrassment, she began to cry uncontrollably and couldn´t stop. She felt the blood trickle down her legs.

Martha stood behind the priest, making crosses and muttering Hail Marys. The priest backed up, to let Laurent get out of the confessionary. Martha ran out of the church as if the devil was on her heels.

Nancy was alone in the middle of the confessional space now. She tried to cover herself as best she could, but the pastor’s eyes wouldn’t let go of her with his poisonous look.

Laurent ran his hands through his hair, to make it fall back into place.

- “What´s the matter padre?” he sneered sarcastically “never seen two people fuck?” Nancy felt as if a dagger had been thrust into her heart.

The priest gagged:” This is the house of God, not a brothel! You devil’s brood. You will burn in hell for this forever and ever.”

- “Probably after you.” Laurent said scornfully.

The priest turned his eyes back to Nancy: “Make yourself decent, you hell-wipe.” he commanded her and pulled the curtain back with a savage jerk.

- “And you… out of my church! he snapped at Laurent, pushing him roughly in front of him, but Laurent wouldn’t let himself be pushed

- “Your church? I thought it was God the father’s church.” Laurent joked.

- “Out! “the pastor shouted out, giving Laurent another push.

- “Keep your filthy paws to yourself, padre! I’m not an altar boy.” Laurent`s look that went very dark. – “The priest stepped back and held on to the confessional with one hand.

- “Are you done in there?” he snapped at Nancy. He kept looking at Laurent.

Nany wiped the tears and snot from her face and emerged from the confessional. She rubbed the palms of her hands on her lower abdomen to ease the pain, wishing she were dead. She stepped out of the confessional, with her shoulders bent, and walked past the row of statues of saints, to the exit where the priest was waiting for her. Nancy felt the Saints’ gaze burn into her back.

What had she done? What had she done?

The pastor roughly grabbed her by the arm and threw her out: literally.

- “Out of here, you dirty jezebel.” she felt his saliva on her face as he spat out the words.

Half the village had gathered in front of the church. Nancy started to cry and covered her face with her blood-covered hands, from cleaning her legs.

- “God, let me die, please.” she prayed “take me now!”

A murmur went through the crowd and then a scream: it was her mother. She had come running because she was out of breath. For a moment, the woman stood there like a pillar of salt, open-mouthed, staring at her daughter. When she regained her breath, she rushed towards her daughter and flung herself on her like a fury. She beat her and pulled her away from the church by the hair. Nancy fell to the floor, trying to cover her body as best she could to protect herself from the blows of her mother.

The crowd around them stood watching and muttering indignantly to each other. Martha couldn’t stop making the signs of the cross.

- “Stand up, you filthy whore!′ cried Nancy’s mother. ’You snake to my bosom. You are not my daughter, you devil’s child.”

Nany’s father appeared behind her mother, belt ready to use in his hands and started lashing out with it.

Laurent stood smoking a cigarette a few yards away, watching the sad scene with sadistic pleasure.

The priest finally intervened, grabbing Nancy’s mother by the shoulders, and pulling her back. He took her father by the arm to stop him.

- “Come on folks, enough is enough.” he said trying to demonstrate some authority.

Nancy’s mother started to cry: “She was not raised that way, father. What have I done wrong to our dear Lord to deserve such a daughter?”

The priest put an arm on her shoulder and tried to calm her down: “Calm down now, woman, we are going to pray the rosary together. We´ll ask the holy virgin for advice.”

- “People, please go home no.” he turned to the gaping crowd.

- “Come on. Go home. We should all pray to God tonight that He will forgive us this shame.”

The people slowly began to disperse and return to their homes. Nancy’s mother flew at her daughter again:

- “THAT - won’t set a single foot in my house anymore.” Nancy’s father added to her mother in an authoritative voice.

- “Come, I´ll walk you home.” The priest said.

Nancy’s mother shot another poisonous look at her daughter, who lay there helplessly beaten on the floor. Nancy´s father spat on her, then stepped over her and walked home with his wife:” I never knew you.” he muttered as walked away.

After everyone had gone, Laurent lit another cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. He took a few steps towards Nancy and looked down on her.

- “You can get up now”. he said, “They are all gone.”

- “Get up!” Laurent ordered her “Or are you going to spend the night here? I’m hungry: I’m going home.”

Nancy lifted herself up and leaned against the graveyard wall.

- “What am I going to do now? she sighed “Where should I go?”

Laurent shook his shoulders: “You can always come with m.”, he said in a very casual tone.

Nancy looked at him through her tears. He stood there, towering over her as if nothing had happened. Nothing at all.

- “Come!” he said, while he was already walking away. He stopped for a moment, looked at her, and said:

- “Or you could hang around here until a nun from the poorhouse comes by and takes you away?”

Nancy dragged after him, her head bowed in shame. After they left the main street, Laurent put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. He spat the sand from his lips that was stuck in her hair and stuck on his lips.

- “You should stay in my house for a while. Have you ever been inside? It´s very different from that shack your parents live in, I imagine.” Laurent laughed.

Nancy didn’t answer. Her tears continued to roll down her face.

- “Ain´t I the lucky one tonight? To have my own hot chick in the house. Now stop your whining; the world has not come to an end, did it?” He grabbed her arm and forced her to walk a little faster.

Philomena was standing by the apple tree with Hannibal and Jerome when she saw Nancy for the first time. She looked at the poor girl; a pile of misery, crumpled and broken after her ordeal.

Laurent had said cheerfully that someone would be coming to live with him for a while, released Nancy from his grip, and walked in the house alone, leaving the girl to Philomena.

- “What`s cooking Philomena, I´m so hungry I could eat a horse!”

Philomena took the girl under her wing as best she could and knew beforehand that this was a forebode for more misery to come.

Nancy soon became befallen with a sadness, which seemed to become her second nature. She had hoped for love, but what she found instead was the seat for senseless violence.

She was beautiful and equally stylish. Laurent had bought her a white ballet dress, so she could entertain him at night. she danced divinely, but it all turned sour soon.

He raped her regularly and wanted her to have intercourse with his lowlife friends, while he watched in a drunken stupor. He just called it folly and started beating her repeatedly.

She had nowhere to go, and even if she did, after all, that had happened, he would send some of his truants to find her and make her suffer even more.

One morning Philomena found her in the garden, but naked. He had thrown her out in the middle of the night.

She was reduced to a belonging, upon which he looked with contempt.

Nancy was a social pariah now and never left the house. On the rarest of occasions when there where people around, she wore a veil to hide her disfiguration. He humiliated and debased her and drained the life right out of her. Her innocence was washed away

Domestic abuse is a problem with no name, Philomena had said to Tille when she finally went over there to speak about the atrocities that happened at the house. When Laurent was called to answer to this abusive situation for himself, he simply replied that Nancy had invented the word suffering and that she was a spoiled and ungrateful bitch.

Nancy had become nothing more than a shadow, waiting to be absorbed into oblivion. Overwhelmed with hopelessness she simply disappeared. They found her floating face down in the lake, wearing her beautiful ballet dress.

Laurent couldn’t be bothered with funeral arrangements. He couldn´t justify why he should pay an undertaker for a tramp who hated him to begin with.

- “Dig a hole in the ground, somewhere near the crossroads.” He told Hannibal in the presence of his aunt when she came to see the girl received a proper service.

- “Girl?” Laurent asked “What girl? The parasite who had shared his bed a couple of times, and above all lived off his nickel? Fortunately, he had been intelligent enough to disarm her and see her without coquetry: an animal!”

- “Did you ever have a heart or even a soul?” Tille had asked him when she decided to give Nancy a decent burial herself.

Tille pleaded with the priest to bury Nancy, but he refused: suicide was a cardinal sin. She was beyond the grace of God, and there was nothing he could do.

Nancy was eventually buried in a cemetery, where only a few dead were dug each year. A burial place for people who were not allowed to be buried in consecrated ground, such as suicides, or people who were buried by the congregation; poor people, who could not afford their own passing.

It was a mysterious piece of land and many ghost stories were going around. The cemetery was called the drowned graveyard because many drowned people were buried there, or people who had been run over by the train.

Besides Hannibal, Jerome, Philomena, Tille, and her butler, not a human soul came to pay their respects, give a final salute, or say a simple goodbye... When they got home, Laurent was lying drunk on the sofa.

Philomena was startled from her memory by a pigeon that flew in. She wiped her tears with her apron, pulled it off, and waved it at the dove, trying to get him out of the room.

- “This is no place for free birds. Be gone. Go be with your friends.” she said to the bird as it flew out.

Laurent’s visitor, whom he would later hire as all bodyguard, was a bony and rough man. Hannibal had told Philomena that this guy was associated with poachers and vagabonds and that he came from a pernicious background.

Philomena made the sign of the cross and took her rosary from her pocket.

Hannibal interrupted her heartfelt prayer

- “Sorry Philomena, I don’t mean to disturb you, but I have a small problem.”

- “What is it, Hannibal?” Philomena asked.

- “I was supposed to visit my brother. His leg was recently amputated after he landed under a falling tree at the slumber site. Now he’s back home and I wanted to go and see the poor bastard.

With that scum here in the house, it seems safer for me to stay here, you never know what might happen.”

- “Oh Hannibal,” Philomena said, putting her rosary back in her pocket. “No! You cannot do that!”

Hannibal looked at her with concern.

- “Go and visit your brother. I will stay here overnight. Don’t worry! I’ve been through a lot of hotter fires.”

- “Go ahead, get yourself ready and be on your way! I will spend the night here until you get back. I’m so sorry about the misery that befell your brother. No go and be with him. I will hold the fort!”

Hannibal lingered for a while, but then finally went to get his bag and made his way to the house of his brother.

The grey line of light in the east that outlined the black mass of the forests against the faint color of the sky was the first sign of a new morning.

The grey frown of unborn light, that’s what Hannibal´s wife had always called that moment of the day. A smile formed on his lips as he thought of her. Another half-hour of walking, Hannibal thought. He was not sure what to expect or what he was going to find at the house, upon his return and it made him anxious.

Hannibal had spent three days with his brother, who had lost a leg in a tree-felling accident. The brothers hadn’t seen each other for so long. It was a difficult reunion.

Hunched over, Hannibal walked back to the mansion, where Philomena, no doubt, could certainly use his help.

I just hope that rough man-man didn’t destroy the house and that he left the girls alone, Hannibal thought as he walked on.

Somewhere a rooster crowed. In the woods and hedges, the birds awoke. A door opened in a small house in the street next to the cemetery; an old lady stepped out and looked at the hour on the tower. Hannibal raised his hand to wish her good morning. He glanced at the crosses of the graveyard one more time and continued on his way.

The village was still in complete tranquillity. Hannibal went around the gate of the cemetery, between two garden hedges, over which the heavily loaded branches of the fruit trees displayed their rich summer opulence, and then he was on the track leading to the mansion.

A dog was walking across the road with its head to the ground. Hannibal stopped for a moment and took a piece of bread from his pocket, from his breakfast his sister-in-law had prepared for him, and lured the dog to him with it:

- “What nocturnal mischief is on your conscience?” he asked the dog, stroking its head.

His thoughts drifted back to Cesar, and how much it hurt Jerome when Mr. Laurent had shot him so cruelly in front of their eyes.

- “Good morning.” Philomena, he said as he stepped into the kitchen. “Already so busy this early.”

- “Hey Hannibal, old friend. glad you’re back.”

Philomena smiled.

- “Mr. Laurent has to go see Mrs. Tille this morning, so he had to get out of bed at a decent hour. I’m about to finish his breakfast. Grab yourself a cup of coffee, I’ll be right back and then you have to tell me all about your brother.”

_” Hey Philomena”, Hannibal said before she disappeared to the dining room, “I saw a lot of fallen trees, at the Hendrix place, the house demolished, and the cornfield bulldozed.”

Philomena’s face grew sad:

- “He did such terrible things, sit down. When I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened”.

When she came to the dining room, Laurent was sitting around the table alone.

-“Only you sir? I brought breakfast for two.”

Laurent didn’t answer her, just shrugged.

Hannibal drank his coffee in the garden. The air was filled with a fresh scent of ripening grain, of dewy roses and white hawthorn. The grass was wet with dew, and the many cobwebs stretched over it seemed like white wool.

Hannibal walked to a hedge and looked out over the fields. The sun waved its golden light over the hills, where the shadows and the grass were in a deeper color. It was going to be another hot day today.

He didn´t hear Philomena come up behind him. She startled him:

- “Didn´t mean to scare you, Hannibal,” she said. “Jerome is in the kitchen; he will be happy to see you.”

- “What happened at the Hendrix farm, Philomena? „Hannibal asked her.

- “The day after you left, Laurent took that monster along with him to the farm to go get his money. Noon had barely struck, but those two were already in a stupor, and up to no good.

We could hear the noise all the way up here. The people in the village cried outrage at how the two of them behaved like wild beasts over there. Everything was destroyed. The Hendrix have absolutely nothing left.”

- “Where have they gone?” Hannibal asked with sadness in his voice.

- “I have no idea. I just hope they have found shelter somewhere.” Philomena sighed. Hannibal nodded his head lost in thoughts: “So much senseless destruction. Who benefits from this, ultimately?”

Hannibal turned and said he was going to check on Jerome. Philomena paused in the garden for a moment and let her gaze wander over the land, radiating its ornate splendor of harvest fields. She knew all the shades of the land before him: the deep golden hue of wheat and the lighter of late oats… under that hot summer sun.

She turned around and went back to the kitchen. Hannibal sat at the table next to Jerome, but no one spoke. When she walked a little further into the kitchen, she saw what the silence was about. Laurent was in the kitchen. he stood with his hands at his sides, staring out the window.

- “Where is Blanche?” he asked Philomena.

- “Doing the laundry sir, can I do something for you?”

- “Yes!” he snapped, doing your job would be a good start instead of standing dreaming in the garden.

Philomena didn’t react, that would only give rise to more poison coming out of his mouth. Something on the table next to Jerome’s breakfast plate caught Laurent´s eye: Jerome´s little treasure trove. A box of memories, marbles, and other little echoes from when his mother was still alive. And his father’s pipe.

Laurent walked to the table and picked up the box. Jerome immediately tried to hold on to it and pulled it back from his brothers’ hands. Laurent wouldn’t let go and smacked Laurent around the head.

Hannibal jumped up and wanted to say something. But he realized he was tired after the long walk from his brother’s house, and he was no match for his boss.

Laurent looked haughtily at the gardener.

- “Yes, Hannibal?” he joked “is there something?”

Hannibal shook his head, took another look at Jerome, then walked back into the garden.

Philomena stood by the sink, her hands clasped around her rosary, praying silently that Laurent wouldn’t start at this early hour to taunt Jerome.

Laurent yanked the box from Jerome’s grip and took it to the garden where he opened it and looked at what was inside. He curled his lips in disdain and threw the box as far as he could.

- “Don’t cry now, boy. I will go find it after your brother left.”, Philomena whispered, “Please don’t cry. don’t give him the satisfaction.” she thought.

Laurent walked back into the kitchen, put his hands on his hips again, and looked down at Jerome with disdain. Jerome sat motionlessly.

- “A penny for your thoughts.” Laurent mocked Jerome.

- “How long do you think it will take?”, he asked Philomena, who had no idea what Jerome was talking about?

- “What, boy?” she asked softly.

- “Will it take a long time?”, Jerome asked again

- “What is that monkey talking about?” Laurent asked. Philomena shook her shoulders.

- “How long will it take for mom to come get me?” Jerome asked.

Laurent slammed the palm of his hands on his thighs loudly: “This bullshit again.”

Philomena feared another fit of rage and positioned herself next to Jerome who just kept staring into a void.

- “I want to take daddy’s pipe with me, so I can give it back to him. I think daddy will be very happy with that. And his jacket too.”

Philomena stroked Jerome´s hair.

- “Laurent threw daddy’s pipe in the garden. I’m going to tell mom; she won’t be happy that he just threw daddy’s pipe out.”

Laurent was about to say something, but Jerome jumped from his chair and ran to the window.

- “Mom!” he cried “Mama!” and he ran straight into the garden.

- “Mama, I’m so happy!” Philomena heard him say.

- “It’s getting better here day by day.” Laurent sighed. Philomena ran after Jerome.

- “Idiots!” Laurent said and kicked open the kitchen door, put on his jacket, and made his way to Tille’s house.

When Laurent entered Tille’s office, the notary was there too. It made him a little nervous because it always meant serious business when she brought him in.

Tille was sitting by the window. She looked frail and fragile. Her gaze was icy cold. She did not greet Laurent.

Dale got up:” Good morning.” he said shortly. “Please have a seat.” - “No”, Laurent said “I’m fine. I don’t plan to stay long.”

Tille coughed a few times and kept looking through the window. She brought a handkerchief to her lips to cover her mouth.

- “A little sick this morning aunty?” Laurent mocked his aunt walking from one side of the room to the other, trying to hide his nervousness.

- “What can I do for you? I am a busy person and still have a lot to do. so: on with it.” Laurent asked the notary, taking out his pocket watch to emphasize that he was short for time.

- “Sir, please sit down so that we can have a more pleasant conversation.”

Laurent sighed and reluctantly sat down.

- “What? I’m sitting. Now, inform me why I had to come here so early?”

Dale was about to start talking when Laurent interrupted him:

- “Coffee?” he looked from Tille to the notary.” Can’t I get a cup of coffee?”

- “No? Not even a glass of water?” he continued in a high-pitched voice to imitate Mr. Dale who had a soft and somewhat lilting voice.

- “Sir,” Mr. Dale said with his head tilted,” let’s discuss our affairs first.” his eyes looked wistful, yet his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. Mr. Dale was a simple man but had an aristocratic demeanor and great wisdom of life.

Laurent turned his gaze to Tille and in his mind, he saw his dead mother sitting next to her. He noticed for the first time how much the two women resembled each other.

The notary is not a working man, but a learned man, his mother had once told him.

Tille sat staring out the window, holding a handkerchief in a clenched hand.

- “You don´t look good this morning, Aunty.” Laurent said. Tille just gave him a cold look.

- “Don’t take this the wrong way. I´m just concerned for your well-being.” Laurent added, shaking his hands in front of him.

Dale had a file on the table and tapped his fingers on it. Tension was rising.

Dale clasped his hands on the file in front of him. There was a stylish fountain pen next to it, a pencil and tissue paper: an indication that signatures would be expected from Laurent., who didn´t know what to do with himself.

Most of all, he would have liked to give a sarcastic sneer but feared it might work against him, so he mimicked Mr. Dale’s posture and put his hands clasped on the table.

- “Really? I can’t have a glass of water.” Laurent tried again exactly at the moment where the notary wanted to speak.” My throat is bone dry.” he continued with an innocent puff.

Dale looked at Laurent over his lenses and said, “In a minute, sir. This really won’t take long.” Tille was still staring through the window, sitting motionless.

Mr. Dale cleared his throat and began: “We have heard that you have caused considerable damage to the Hendrix farm and family.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows as if he had no idea what Mr. Dale meant, then slumped back against the back of his chair: “Oh… about that” he said, rolling his eyes.

- “I can’t find the words to describe what happened there.” Mr. Dale continued. Laurent clicked his tongue.

- “They were three months behind with their rent, and you should have seen what the place looked like.”

- “These are tough times for hardworking people.” Mr. Dale said.

Laurent ran his hands through his hair.

- “And they have a newborn.” Tille said softly without looking at Laurent.

- “Yes! Breed like rats, that they do that full well.”

Tille gave him a poisonous look and Laurent kept his mouth shut.

- “Then there’s the case of….”

- “What case?” Laurent interrupted Mr. Dale

- “Your younger brother Jerome.”

- “God damn it! Not that again.” Laurent said under his breath.

- “The boy deserves a good and happy life. And the freedom to explore his already narrow world.” Tille said in a calm voice.

- “His world isn`t the only narrow thing.” Laurent continued with a crooked smile.

- “He has the right to freedom and above all safety!” Tille went on. “Philomena came to see me and told me heart-breaking things.”

- “If one is to believe everything that cow says,” Laurent started, but Tille got up and walked over to him. She staggered and continued in a faint voice:

- “Your circumstances don´t allow a clearer language?”

- “Under this roof, respectful language is used to talk about people.” Mr. Dale added. “Especially when you talk about the people who work and toil for you and to whom you owe so much.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows and rested his chin in one hand, doing everything he could to appear as uninterested as possible.

-” I still have a lot to do today,” Laurent said, taking out his pocket watch again.

- “We’re almost done, sir.” Mr. Dale said. “The Hendrix were good, hardworking, and God-fearing people.”

Laurent rolled his eyes again.

- “What is happening to them and what they are going through now is the summary of a...”

- “Oh, spare me the sermon! That melodramatic shit won´t get you anywhere with me.” Laurent shouted.

Dale glanced up at Tille. Laurent slammed one hand hard on the table.

- “If my father were alive, he wouldn´t put up with all that. But with me…. nobody takes me serious.” bullshit would never have been true with my father. But with me... nobody takes me seriously. I have no choice but to come up with Draconian measures. Should I let that scum walk all over me?”

Tille was still standing next to Laurent, looking down at him:

- “You dare”, her voice sounded bitter “involve your father in this conversation? I look and listen to you, and I never know whether I to laugh or cry.”

Laurent twisted his face and gave her a venomous look.

- “You ungrateful piece of waste.” Tille continued, looking him straight in the eye. Your cynical selfishness is disgusting and has been making me sick for far too long. “

- “I think of myself at least I think of a good friend.” Laurent interrupted her with a grotesque smile. He stood up and stared Tille in the face.

- “You are the personification of heartlessness.”

Tille said, pulling a chair away from the table to sit down.

Laurent looked from Tille to Mr. Dale and frantically looked for something to say.

- “Your father was a noble man.” Mr. Dale said, staring at the file in front of him. “He had a connection with the people of the community”.

Laurent curled his lips down.

- “Yes,” Tille sighed, dabbing her forehead with her handkerchief. “This wouldn’t all be happening if your father was still alive, because your father always saw the good first and was convinced that the evil would always be less than the good.”

- “Most people hide the good from the world and hide themselves behind evil.” Mr. Dale said.

- “I don´t think there´s any good to be found in this one.” Tille sighed

- “Old witch!” Laurent shot at his aunt.

- “I curse the day you came out of my sister’s body:” Tille cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

- “Mr. Dale.” Laurent began, but the notary held out his hand to make Laurent stay silent.

- “I wash my hands of you.” Tille continued.” Mr. Dale will draw up new papers. From now on, you´re on your own. Jerome will come to live here, with Philomena to take care of him. His finances will be completely separated from yours. Mister dale will arrange for the estate to be divided.”

Laurent couldn’t believe his ears.

- “What? What are you talking about? You can`t just do that. That was not the agreement you made with my mother”.

Master Dale raised his hand again, but Laurent ignored him and kept raving:

- “You are thieves. You liars!”

- “I believe you start to believe your own phantasies, Laurent and that is your prerogative, but here and you have two options.”

Laurent slammed his fist on the table

- “Either you agree with the new state of affairs, of which you can rest assured that the smallest detail will be drawn up to the letter of the law, or I go to the gendarmerie and make an official report of all the wrongdoings you have committed over the years.

- “Don’t make me laugh.” Laurent said.

- “I can assure you that this is not my intention at all.” Tille said.

Laurent started to feel nauseous.

- “If the estate is to be divided, there is not enough left for me, and I will be ruined.”

Tille shrugged her shoulders indifferently

- “Then that little imbecile must share in the debts that I have had to incur for the maintenance of the estate, or else I will end up on the street.” Laurent said, panic audible in his voice.

Mr. Dale shook his head: “As it all stands, you have never involved Jerome in any of your decisions or considered his benefits.”

Laurent blew a raspberry.

- “Or asked for representation on his behalf - nor made the slightest effort to discuss matters with your aunt.” Mr. Dale explained further.

- “I’m a grown man, I don’t owe her any explanation.”

Laurent roared.

- “Perhaps, but you do owe your servants and workers their salary. I paid them once again this month out of my pocket.” Tille filled in.

- “As if a decent conversation is possible with that bitch!” Laurent bit venomously

- “Sir! Please”. Mr. Dale raised his voice, “There´s no need for the use of foul language. It’s a fait accomplis sir. I have here the new papers.”

- “Or we go to the gendarmerie now.” Tille said.

- “You’re out of your mind. I can’t imagine that there is a single judge who would approve of this.

- “Mr. Laurent is of course free to take this to court,” Mr. Dale said softly “that is his right. As it will be mine to explain how this decision came about and why.”

Tille looked at Laurent obliquely and said:” You have always been able to tell beautiful stories, you never know what fairy-tale could come out of a lawsuit.”

- “Rot in hell!” Laurent barked.

- “After you.” Tille said

- “I still need my cash allowance for this month. “Laurent insisted. Dale glanced at Tille, then shook his head and added: “You mean Jerome´s allowance.”

- “You bastard!” Laurent snorted.

- “Apologies sir.” Mr. Dale replied.

- “Bailiffs were already at my door last week. I have a right to...”

- “Remain calm and composed.” Tille completed Laurent´s sentence.

- “I’ll make you pay for that. You’re going to regret this!” Laurent cried, holding a finger in Tille’s face.

He knocked his chair over, kicked it away, and stomped out the door.

When he was outside, the world was spinning before his eyes. He stooped to the ground and threw up. Gasping for air, he straightened up and leaned against a wall. He took a step forward, glanced up, and saw Tille standing by the window. He looked around for a moment, picked up a large rock, and threw it through at the where Tille stood. He let out a roar and began to walk home.

It was a hot day: the first day of September.

Laurent walked down the main village street and saw people looking at him strangely, saying things to each other behind their hands.

- “Retards! Monkeys! Inbred idiots! Incestual scum!” He grumbled “Too stupid to wipe their ass. Just wait…”

He chopped at a woman standing in her front door, looking at him. A large man with a tough workman’s face burned red by the sun came up to Laurent. He clenched his weathered hands into fists. Laurent circled him and spat on the ground tauntingly.

- “What?” he yelled, “Thinking of hurting me?”

The man looked at him but didn´t move or say anything.

What rumors did that bitch spread about me? Just wait till I get home. She will experience something. Laurent said to himself. He went in through the front door, the mansion seemed empty. For just a second panic sets in, he thought he saw somebody move in the mirror behind him. He turned around and sees it´s only a curtain moving in the wind.

- “Philomena!” he roared, “Philomena!”

Laurent began to curse under his breath, took another look in the mirror where he thought he saw someone, shook his head a few times, and walked on to the kitchen. Philomena and Jerome were in the backyard. He stared scornfully at Jerome, who was sitting in the grass under the apple tree, his elbows resting on his hunched knees. He looked calm., pretending to smoke his father’s pipe.

Then Laurent’s eye fell on Philomena, who was carrying a crate full of canning glasses because she was planning to make jam. Laurent was overcome with blind rage. He rushed at her like a bull seeing red. Philomena set down the crate of jars and quickly reached for the rosary in her pocket.

- “God help me!” she prayed. “This doesn’t look good.”

Laurent came closer and though she couldn’t make out what exactly he was saying, she understood o too well that those obscenities didn’t bode well. She quickly looked at Jerome, who now sat there petrified.

- “You filthy, filthy whore! You brought down this whole house.” He kept marching towards Philomena like a charging fury: “Out of my house, you piece of shit!”

Philomena didn’t know what hit her or how to react.

- “Out of my house and never let me see that ugly face of yours again.” Laurent kept screaming.

Philomena clutched her rosary even tighter in her hand and quietly tried to lead Jerome further back in the garden. That fuelled Laurent´s anger even more. He kicked the crate furiously. The jars and shards flew in all directions.

- “Away from my brother, you deceitful bitch.” He started to run towards Philomena. “Grab your rags and fuck off!”

Philomena’s heart was beating so hard she feared it would jump out of her chest. She gathered all her strength to control herself and said very calmly: “If I go, the boy is coming with me.”

Laurent lost his senses and rushed towards Philomena. She was convinced he would beat her to death when suddenly Hannibal appeared behind Jerome with a shotgun pointed at Laurent.

Jerome held his stride in astonishment, unable to utter anything for a moment.

- “No sir!” Hannibal said in a very calm fashion, “None of that!”

- “Put that damn gun down, you retarded bastard!” Laurent shouted out of breath but made no further steps towards Philomena

- “As if the fool knows how to use a gun.” he hissed. Hannibal fired a shot that flew past Laurent and barely missed him.

Jerome flung into a panic and clung to Philomena.

- “I’m going to report you to the gendarmes, you asshole!” Laurent was spitting the words from his mouth, saliva flying in every direction.

Philomena had wrapped her arms around Jerome and wanted to go in with him.

- “He stays here!” Laurent gasped.

- “No sir!” Philomena said in a shaky voice, “If I go the boy comes with me.”

- “Over my dead body!” Laurent roared, purple with rage.

Jerome cried like a little child.

- “Go inside.” Hannibal said calmly.

- “Mom! “Jerome shouted out, “Mama!” and kept calling his mother.

Laurent’s gaze was drawn to someone standing on the terrace one floor above the kitchen. He was momentarily frozen with fear, rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, and looked again at the balcony above the kitchen. Someone had been standing there. Someone stood there. He saw it! It was not a mistake. He looked at Hannibal wild-eyed.

- “Who else is in my house?” Laurent snapped at the gardener.

- “No one sir.” Hannibal answered.

- “Blanche...it was definitely Blanche. She’s snooping around my desk again.”

Hannibal had taken Blanche to the bus earlier that day, which would take her to a nunnery in another province. Mrs. Tille had arranged it after Philomena had talked to her a few days before about the abuses in the house. The girl could rest there and start to work towards starting a new life. They deliberately said nothing to Laurent, in case it occurred to him to thwart their plans and make the girl’s life even more miserable.

- “There’s nobody in the house.” Hannibal repeated.

Laurent started to walk to the kitchen, followed by Hannibal. Philomena stood by the sink, trying to calm Jerome.

- “Out of my house, „Laurent said still out of breath. He walked to the table and pulled out a chair.

- “That schlemiel is to sit here, and you leave my house at once.” Jerome held on to Philomena with both his hands.

- “Don’t leave Phil, don’t leave me, please!” Jerome begged.

- “Be quiet, boy. Be quiet!”, she said as she led Jerome around the kitchen table and tried to sit him down on a chair. She grabbed a few measuring spoons she laid out on the table earlier, for making the jams. Jerome always loved playing with the spoons, could spend hours playing with those measuring spoons. Philomena put two in Jerome´s hands, bent down, and kissed his head:

- “Be quiet, now boy, everything will be fine: I promise you!” she gave him another kiss on the head. Laurent pointed to the door with his index finger. Philomena looked at Hannibal, who was still standing behind Laurent, aiming the rifle at him. Hannibal nodded his head softly and blinked an eye. Philomena rubbed Jerome’s hair one more time and walked out of the kitchen. She took her coat out of a pantry, took her little basket, and walked out of the house with her back straight and her head bowed. Out of sight of the house, she dropped against a tree and let her tears flow.

Tille, Philomena thought, I must go to Mrs. Tille. She pulled her apron from under her coat, crumpled it into a small wad, and stuffed it into her basket. She wiped her face with a handkerchief and hurried to Mrs. Tille’s house.

Laurent turned to Hannibal:” Put that gun down!”.

Hannibal nodded but continued to hold the rifle.

- “I will, sir, as soon as you leave this kitchen.”

- “What? “Laurent yelled, “Ordering me around in my own house?”

Hannibal gripped the rifle a little tighter and brought it to his shoulder.

Laurent took a step back. Hannibal pointed the barrel of the gun at the door. His face was hard, and his eyes determined.

Laurent’s thoughts flew in a thousand different directions at once. He backed out of the kitchen. When Laurent was out of sight, Hannibal sat down next to Jerome, his rifle in his lap.

- “Don’t be afraid.” he said calmly to Jerome, “Everything will be fine.” Inwardly Hannibal was terrified, he took a large handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his face with it.

- “Philomena will be back; she went to get help.” Hannibal said it more to convince and reassure himself rather than to Jerome. He knew Laurent would start drinking, and it wouldn’t be long before Laurent would open his gun cabinet.

Hannibal just had to keep calm and sit here next to Jerome. Hannibal listened to every single noise that could be heard in the house, trying to figure out where or what Laurent was up to.

He couldn’t run away with the boy, he feared that Jerome would open fire on him from one of the upstairs windows. His legs were no longer able to run anyway.

No, he thought: Philomena went to get help. I just have to sit here; help is on the way. He was grateful that Blanche was out of the house.

Out of breath, Philomena arrived at Tille’s house. She walked up the stairs leading to the front door and tripped on the stairs and opened her knee, but she didn’t feel the pain. She knocked on the door several times with one of the big lion heads. No movement. She knocked a few more times—harder this time. The door finally opened. A mournful butler stood in the doorway.

- “Philomena.” he greeted gracefully.

- “Where’s ma’am, I need to talk to ma’am... he’s going to kill us all.” Philomena could get her words out straight.

The butler sighed and shook his head. Philomena could see that he had was overcome with grief, and for a moment her heart sank. She took a step back and kept gazing at the butler.

- “I’m sorry! Madam’s heart gave out half an hour ago. They already came and took her away.”

Philomena made a sign of the cross and then put her hands in over her face, trying her best to push back the tears.

- “No!” she shook her head. “That can’t be true!”

God in heaven, now what? She lowered her hands and looked at the butler:

- “I’m sorry Philomena,” he said, stepped back, and closed the door.

Philomena turned and tried to come up with what she had to do next. Someone had to get Jerome and Hannibal out of the house. She didn’t dare to think of what Laurent was capable of.

- “Poor Jerome! He must be so frightened right now.” She said to herself out loud.

She had no choice, she had to go to the police station.

- “Oh God, please let them help me there.” she prayed.

- “God help me.” she continued praying and ran as fast as she could to the village. It was past noon, and the sun was blazing. Sweat running in streams down her face. She did not stop to take off her coat but went on and on. She could barely breathe, but she kept walking.

Completely out of breath and drenched in perspiration, she dropped onto the small counter in the foyer of the gendarmery.

The old gendarme glanced over his glasses and the newspaper he was reading. He had unbuttoned his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

- “Sir, please,” Philomena gasped. He looked at her in silence, “help me sir please.”

The gendarme did not move a muscle and continued to stare at her.

- “May I please have a glass of water?” Philomena whispered with exhaustion.

The officer put down his newspaper and said: “Does it look like a cafe here?”

Philomena squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to regulate her breath. She began to fear that she would lose consciousness and took her handkerchief to wipe her face.

- “Sir please,” she tried again, “you must help us! Please sir.” she begged.

- “What is it?” the gendarme asked in a rough tone.

- “Mr. Laurent,” she started, “Mr. Laurent will kill us all.”

- “What are you babbling about, you old crone?”, he asked gruffly.

Philomena looked the gendarme in the face. She recognized him. He was a friend and drinking brother of Laurent.

- “Perhaps I can speak to someone else?” Philomena asked.

- “There’s no one else here.” he barked.

- “Could you please help me, come to the house with me before Laurent hurts them.”

- “Oh, stop it, you old cow!” he silenced her. Philomena began to cry.

- “Stop that!” the bony gendarme barked.

- “Sir please!” Philomena begged,” Please.”

The gendarme put his glasses on his nose and stood up: “Go home before I throw you in jail!”

- “But sir!” Philomena tried.

- “Didn’t you hear what I said?” the gendarme barked at Philomena again.” Go home now or you can come to the back with me.” he hit the counter with one hand, took a key from his pocket, and held it up to Philomena’s face.

Philomena took a step back and looked desperately at the officer. She picked up her little basket and looked at the gendarme again.

- “When my colleague comes, I will send him to have a look over there.” he said while he kept playing with the key on the desk to remind Philomena that he could put her in a cell. The exhausted woman nodded and walked out, she wiped her tears with one hand and thought about what to do.

Philomena felt depressed and despondent. ’The sun blasted in a radiant sky.

She took her basket in her left hand and her rosary in her right and began walking towards her own house. Her gait was heavy. Where else was she supposed to go? Her heart was heavy as well: so heavy! Her eyes gazed over the sunlit lane in front of her, thinking of Jerome and Hannibal in that house with Laurent who had lost his senses. How would they conquer their fear?

The road to her cottage climbed a heavy slope. There was something sad about the grey color of the ground. Depressing. The heat was now twice as heavy. When she got to the top of the hill, she sat down to rest and took off her cloak and her shoes. She would continue barefoot.

From where she sat, she could see the church tower in the village, but she was unable to read what time it was. Philomena let her eyes hover over the surrounding fields.

- “I just hope Jerome feels I’m thinking of him.” she thought.

A woman across the street was working. Philomena couldn’t see what she was doing, she stood with her head bowed low to the ground. When the woman straightened up and saw Philomena sitting there, she came over to her. At the verge of the field, she took a package in a large handkerchief from amongst the tall grass and sat herself down next to Philomena.

- “Hey there little mother.”, she said, “Are you all, right? It is too hot today!”

Philomena nodded.

- “It’s far too hot to be working right now.” Philomena worried.

- “Yes!” the woman sighed, “I thought doing a little work now, while the little one sleeps. It’s way too hot right now to let the kids outside. “The woman took out an apple and a sandwich from the handkerchief.

- “Would you like half a sandwich?” she asked. Philomena shook her head:

- “No, thanks. But I don’t say no to a drink of water, my throat is so dry.”

- “Wait,” the woman said, got up and went back to the roadside where she had picked up the handkerchief with her food and took out a drinking bottle: “I always bury it in the shade in the ground a bit, so it doesn’t get lukewarm too much.”

She walked back to Philomena, who took the mug eagerly. Philomena tried her best not to drink too greedily and only a few sips, though she could have finished a whole bucket; she didn’t want to drink up all that poor woman´s water.

- “Thanks ma’am!” she gasped. “I needed that!”

- “Here,” the woman said, striking her apple on a sharp stone to break it in two. “Take a piece of apple, that helps when you´re thirsty.”

Philomena took half the apple, picked up her basket, shoes, and coat, and went on her way: “You have a nice day now!” and be careful in that burning sun!” Philomena called out to the woman who

laughed with her mouth full of bread and pulled her scarf tightly over her head to show Philomena that her head was protected from a sunstroke.

Philomena walked on until she came to a crossroads. At the road sign, she turned left: her way went straight from her on. Straight ahead: always straight ahead. She knew that all too well!

Her home was the house where she was born and had been living alone for years now, ever since her parents passed away.

A farmer stood in his garden and looked over the hedge into the fields: “What are you doing here, Philomena?” he asked when he saw her approaching. “It is way too hot for you to be walking around right now.”

Philomena raised her hand in which she held her shoes and greeted her neighbor.

- “I have to go home.” she said and walked on. She opened her front door and entered her dark little house, threw her coat and shoes on the floor, and walked to the sink to wet her face.

She lit a candle at the little statue of the Virgin Mary. The light from the candle filled the small dark living room with a golden glow. She sat down on a chair, took her rosary, and began to pray to our lady. She also began to cry softly. She murmured one Hail Mary after another and kept on praying, for Jerome and Hannibal, for the souls of her father and mother, for the souls in purgatory, for the sinners and the lost.

Her thoughts drifted to Laurent: “How could this man be so cruel?” she asked, looking at the statue of Mary.” They ought to throw them in jail.” she thought, “Maybe he could learn to think there.” She was ashamed because she was thinking such bad thoughts while she was praying.

Laurent lay on the sofa in his office. H emptied a whole bottle of liquor. He was sweating like an ox and yet he lay shivering. His office was shrouded in darkness. He got up and tiptoed toward the door. he locked twice because he was afraid Hannibal would come up and shoot him dead in his sleep.

Then he lay down on the sofa again, his knees tucked up, in a fetal position.

His eyes grew heavy, and he started to plummet in a deep dark chasm. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He thought he was awake but remained asleep nonetheless. Something was not quite right, there was an ominous feeling - a foreboding of monsters and people. He felt like he was separated from his body. Air started rushing past his face. He was felling, deeper - ever deeper,

Sinking back into a deep and restless slumber. A dark sleep.

Spiders! He´s scared of these big black spiders. Where did they come from? Impossible to run. He’s in a cage and must get out. Where’s the door? There’s one. How strange: to find a door in a cage. He’s afraid.

There is a presence in a corner of his mind. It’s murmuring something he doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t understand what she’s saying. Yes, it’s a woman, she´s wearing a white dress with too much lace. He recognizes her, a girl from a lifetime ago. She died. She’s dead! Did she crawl out of the depths of a time gone by? Maybe it was his memory? He couldn’t trust it. Never could.

The sun will go up soon and things will look different. why did everybody hate him so unconditionally? Even the dead.

There had been good times! Moments of beauty. People always remember the bad- only the bad, and simply forget the good.

Ugly-faced monsters! That’s what they are.

He must open that door. He´s scared of what he will uncover on the other side, behind that door that looked so much like the door that led into Tille´s house. He was drowning, water everywhere! He had to open that door.

A basement, such an ugly place. He can’t bring himself to go down there. He simply can’t. It’s so dirty and full of rot. There are probably rats there too. His head is so heavy. The rats are the least of his problems. It’s dark. So dark, so damn dark. He’s frightened of that kind of darkness. Something is lurking in there. He’s not alone. Somebody is there with him. He wants to scream; he can’t!

He has to work his way through the clutter to find his way out. The stairs behind him have disappeared it´s all so heavy.

He needs a match, to light a candle. In his pocket. There’s a matchbox in his pocket. He finds the stump of a candle somewhere. The light of the match reveals a woman. It´s not the same woman as the ghost in the room. No! This was not a specter. This was a memory. A hazy memory he couldn’t place. She was young. She looked somewhat frail and she´s wearing a black dress.

With a smack, he fell back on the sofa. What was that? Who was that woman? He tried to remember her face, but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t come back to him. There was a sadness about her.

Ghostly evils must have followed him back to his room where he lay on the sofa.

She is here too... but she´s not here to rescue him.

Philomena was woken up by a loud banging on her door. She didn’t know where she was at first. Then it all came back, she must have fallen asleep.

- “Jerome!” she cried; confused.

There was more banging on the door. She got up, staggered for a moment, and then ran for the door. She had double-locked the door and it took her a lot of effort to open the door in the dark. When she finally managed to swing it open, a trio of half-clothed children stood at her door.

- “Philomena, Philomena!” cried the children,” You must follow us to our daddy. Come to Philomena, quick!”

- “W what? Why?”

- “Come Philomena our daddy is waiting for you!”

She followed the children on her bare feet to the yard opposite. The kids kept yelling for her to hurry up. Their father had put his horse before the cart. In a corner of her eye, Philomena saw a firefighter on a bicycle. There was that tight feeling about her heart again, but she couldn’t stop to think about that now.

The farmer quickly grabbed her by the arm and helped her onto the cart.

- “What happened?” she asked. She couldn’t take her eyes off the fireman. A fire? Was there something wrong with Jerome, is that why they are calling for her?

- “Please tell me what happened!” Philomena begged. The farmer jumped on the trestle of the cart and just said:” Quick, quick! We must hurry Philomena.” The fireman rode in front and the farmer who gave the horse the reins and followed the fireman at a trot.

- “Heavens, the whole street is out! What happened?” Philomena kept asking. She peered out at the horizon, to see if she could see columns of smoke.

- “Hold on tight Philomena.” the farmer shouted. Philomena began to cry.

- “I must be strong now,” she thought” those people are going to help me, but I have to be strong.”

- “Where are we going?” she asked.

- “To the lake!” the farmer said, “to the lake!”

- “Did something happen to Jerome? Was there a fire?? He didn’t set the house ablaze, did he?” she just kept looking at the fireman who cycled in front of her.

- “No, Philomena, there was no fire!” the farmer tried to calm her down. When they got to the lake, she saw a lot of people standing around.

Hannibal was there too. he sat on the floor, with his elbows on his knees and his head buried in his hands. She could see he was crying.

The farmer stopped the horse, and without waiting for him, Philomena jumped off the cart.

Her hands pressed to her heart she stood as if petrified, gazing over the grass. There was Jerome, stretched out: lifeless!

A large fireman’s cloak covered him… They had put him on a stretcher.

- “No one saw or heard anything.” she heard a man’s voice say to her.

- “I’m so sorry!”, Hannibal cried to Philomena “I fell asleep. I’m so sorry! The boy ran away while I was asleep. Philomena, he ran away while I was asleep!”

Seasonal workers on their way to work early in the morning had seen a body in the water and went t for help as quickly as possible, but it was too late.

- “It looks like he took his own life.” Another man said to Philomena.

Philomena glanced at Hannibal. How shriveled he looked.

- “I wish I was dead!” Hannibal cried.

- “Laurent?” Philomena asked.

- “We’re still looking for him Philomena.” someone answered.

Philomena was unable to think or feel anything.

- “There he lies! That sweet boy. „She whispered. walked over to the lifeless Jerome and dropped to her knees beside him. Overcome with grief, she felt like she was drowning herself. Carefully she took Jerome´s head and put it in her lap as if she were afraid of hurting him.

- “My boy, my poor boy. Why didn’t you wait for me?” She moaned, her lips trembling, looking at his pale face.

- “It’s like he’s asleep.” she murmured, “You sleep now boy.” she cried. “Sleep now.”

She wiped the mud from his forehead and his mouth with her skirt held his head up a little longer and kissed his forehead.

- “He never hurt anyone, sir.” she said to someone who came to help her get up. She began to sob as if her chest would burst into pieces. She took another look at Jerome at her feet, with nothing but love in her broken look, moved a few paces to one side, her face twisted. She moaned in agonizing pain. She looked so much older now.

She walked back, took a few steps to the side, and walked back to Jerome again, sobbing louder and sadder in a burst of sorrow and despair.

- “Sleep now, my boy.” she said. She lifted her skirt over her eyes and fell to the floor.

- “They will put him in the ground. They’re going to put him in the ground Hannibal.” she cried.

The reality of the misery of the dead boy who had taken his own life now fully dawned on her.

Life was so worthless. At least the boy had eternal rest now.

The land before her coward in rigid immobility-empty, lifeless and sad despite the harvest.

No! She wasn’t here to rescue him. This wasn’t a dream.

She´s coming! Closer and closer. Ever closer… there she came. Everything is flying in a wild whirl.

How indifferent the look on her face. There`s a dog at her knees, he could hear the patter of his paws.

A few more people walk behind her.

That girl in the white dress… And there- an old friend! He was under the ground now, … underground. He recognizes him now. A fight over money put him in his grave, under the ground.

Someone else is coming. He takes her hand.

-Brother?” he whispers.

A slender elegant lady... why is she staring at him?

- “Tille? Aunt is that you?”

No! This was not a dream.

He shouts a heart-breaking cry:”. This is not a dream!”

She is now a few steps away from him, his brother at her hand.

Such a beautiful glow about her being.

Closer… a little closer still.

- “Mother.” he whispers and falls to his knees.

No one has ever seen Laurent again. Nor was any trace of him ever found.

Some claim that they can see a man’s figure walking around the pound in September.

Only at night – the first day of September.