All Saints

Conseil Paternel

She had been working rigorously on the project the past two days. On the night before it was due, Dahlia looked as if she had just escaped the psychiatric ward after her lobotomy. Her hair a mess as she held her head, knelt on her elbow writing lines after lines. Occasionally, she would get up getting too stiff to write.

Her mother came in without knocking and discreetly placed a plate of cut apples, so pleased that she was afraid that if she distracted her she would ruin her work ethic. Dahlia didn't even notice the apples let alone her mother's creeping figure leaving her room. Despite the absence of the nanny her mother had really improved in traditional motherhood. She was still a raging, radical devote follower of God, never missed a prayer all at the same time.

The sun had set and Dahlia was finally finished. Every muscle stiff and exhausted. She waddled to her bed and slumped on top unable to move a muscle. She lay there on her face for maybe a half an hour. The house was quiet. She assumed everyone had gone to sleep. Her stomach protested and grumbled, she had missed dinner. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the plate full of apples that had browned. If she had the energy she would eat them but she just lay there silently watching the apples from afar. Footsteps could be heard in the hall. She listened, they stopped and her door cracked open.

Her father appeared in the darkness of the hallway. He came in a smile on his face, "get up." He said trying to get his daughter under the covers. She squirms and is finally successfully tucked in bed. Etienne sits at the end of the bed his hands clasped together. "I'm going to die. I wasn't made for this." She complained as if she had been doing 16 hours of hard physical labour. "Don't say that, find a rich man then you don't have to work." He scowled but that's soon dissolved into laughter. He sighed  as he decided to share his life's wisdom,  "Mary rich alright. I want you to be comfortable find some rich man and if they smell like bankruptcy run." He joked about his own life troubles making Dahlia laugh too. Slightly lifting the burden of the wretchedness that has spread through their lives in a sudden moment. From comfort and the pearls of the world in their hands to absolutely nothing but a large house they couldn't keep warm.

They sat in shared silence, "What about love father?" She said breaking the solemn moment. His eyebrows raised for a moment not expecting such a question, "Love, who said you can't love a rich man?" He shrugged, joyful once again.
"No but the sons of those great American companies don't have any personality to love." She sighed with agitation. This was true, she had seen the opulent heirs during parties in Paris and London drowning with expensive liquor and women. Etienne knew those boys were no good and each had either two mothers and hundreds of mistresses in their life time for he was one of them. He had grown up brushing shoulders with the boys which carried their legacies around their wrist like some Cartier watch. He missed the privileged life, the sun didn't hit the poor with same warmth as the rich.

His eyes narrow as if his suspicions might be coming true, "Ahhh I see it's that one eyed boy what was his name?" He said his eyebrows drawn together trying to recall the boys name. "Joseph Descamps, father and I would never." She almost snorted as if her father had said something barbaric. He shakes his head disagreeing, "He's a good boy." He retorted defending him to his daughter despite only meeting him once or twice. "How would you know that now?" She yawned trying to fight sleep off. Her father did not say anything instead he got up from her bed patting her back,
"Go to bed you have all your life to talk to
me." Her father says before walking back into the darkness behind the door of her room.

Etienne that night returned to his study and picked up a pen and paper. It was late at night and his record was playing Prelude in e minor by Chopin when he was finally done. He looked aimlessly around his room as if it would be the last time before he would forget all this. He looked down at the sheet and feeling of content rose up in him. He flicked the cueing leaver up from the record as it kept spinning around. Silence. It was if the whole city had fallen asleep. Etienne crept back into their bed, his wife at the furthest side. It was as if his unfortunate luck would rub off on her and therefore they barely spoke. Dahlia was the only one who did but soon she would learn to know that her father, Etienne Beaufort, had died that day in Calais, when they ripped their belongings off them leaving them with nothing. Was it worth living when everything was gone?

He recalled moments of his day like every night. In the morning he rose from bed and was sent to look for a job since money was scarce. He would never tell his wife or children, he didn't want them to worry. He had given his last few francs to his wife yesterday. He was determined, he knew today he would find something to do and intern their life would slowly change. He headed towards a few stores they shook their heads and turned him away. It was outside a barber in which he talked to the owner. The stout man must of pitied him and gave him a few to sweep the hair of the floor, just enough to buy dinner.

He shamelessly took the money after the job was done. "If you need me please sir call, my name is in the telephone book under Beaufort. Please I need this job I have children." Etienne pleaded out his whisper looking around worried that someone would hear. A smoking boy at the end of the street stood watching from a far but he decided he was unthreatening to his crumb by of pride left. The barber gave a melancholy smile in return, "I'll see what I can do for you sir." He said before stepping back into his shop sending the Etienne off.

It was mid day when he headed to the grocers, only picking out the cheapest produce from the lot. He was at the till where the bag boy had packed his cans and other items already. The amount was said and Etienne already knew that he was short. To try save face he opened his wallet anyway putting every coin in his hand. He looked at the items trying to weigh up what wasn't absolutely necessary. The old lady looked back at him impatiently and then at the line. "There's a line Mr would you please hurry up." The Old lady urged him with her croaky voice as she narrowed his beady eyes at him. His hands began to shake. Someone tapped him on his back, "here sir Beaufort." He turned to see the one eyed boy. He took his hand and inconspicuous slipped the money into Dahlia's father's hand. He smiled at the Samaritan, he remembered his face it was the Joseph boy. He had the faint smell of smoke that hung of his clothes but Etienne knew that all men had ways to rid them of their troubles, even boys.

Once he had payed he waited outside the shop to thank the boy for his goodness. He stepped out finally and he was quite surprise to see him waiting there. He shook his hand with his free hand slightly nervous. "Thank you, It's Joseph." He said smiling they started walking side by side. "Only a favour, I was in debt to you from that night." He said modestly talking about his drunk episode. If Dahlia saw the boy now she wouldn't recognise him from they we acted. He pats the boy on the back, "Glad you're feeling better boy. This is my street and by the way keep an eye on Dahlia for me at school." He points towards the quiet street where two kids were passing a ball. "I'll try my very best sir, till next time." He nods by now he was exuding his normal confidence smiling at the lesser man. "Till next time indeed my boy. Remain in good health." He says waving the boy off then stuffing his hands into his brown trench coat as he makes his way home. He would remember the boys touching kindness and he hoped that good boys like him remained in the changing times. For it was for him that he could return to his wife as a man who could provide for his family for this evening. His eyes finally sealed over dreading the next crawling day.