Page 3 of The Curse of Indy Moore
“The least you can do is freshen this place up prior to my visit. Is that not your job?” Francesca took the pipe from her purse to take a hit. She blew the smoke in my face. At least it smelled nice.
“My job is to clean the tavern and serve food. I cleaned your room this morning, even after no one had used it for over a week, but if there is anything wrong, let me know, and I will fix what I can,” I said, offering her a casual smile that made her click her teeth.
“There is nothing you can do to fix this dump, save burn it to the ground and rebuild, which none of you filthy folk can afford.” Francesca fell on the mattress while taking another hit. She waved her hand, swirling the smoke around her. “Bring me dinner.Hotdinner.”
Bowing my head, I descended to the first floor, where patrons departed. Without Francesca, everyone wandered home, including Baxter. I watched him leave before retrieving Francesca’s dinner. She further complained about the poor taste before letting me return to cleaning. Closing up didn’t take too long since I kept up with the mess all night. At the counter, Ysabel had my payment waiting. I slipped the coins into my hand to stash in my skirt pocket.
“You know, I have never seen you buy yourself anything nice with the coins I pay you.” Ysabel had a cigar caught between her lips.
“Because I have bills to pay,” I answered.
Ysabel knocked the ashes into a tray. “You’re sweet, caring so much for your aunt and them girls, but I don’t think it’d kill you to buy yourself something nice for once.”
“I did. I bought a dress,” I said bitterly.
A foolish girl hurried into town with the little she had to buy a dress, the first one she ever bought brand new from a store. There would be no patches, no ripped seams, and her boyfriend would tell her how beautiful she was. Instead, he broke up with her, and she wasted her money on a dress that only fostered bad memories.
Ysabel grabbed my lantern from under the counter. “I would like to see it one day, then.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t meant to be. I plan on selling it.” I took the lantern and headed out into the night.
Westshire didn’t have streets. We had dirt roads, leaning cottages, green pastures, and a dozen streetlights. Six of them worked, three of them flickered when they pleased, and three were broken entirely, so all knew to carry a trusty lantern. No one wore nice shoes because the uneven paths riddled with mud, sticks, and stones would ruin them. The hems of our clothes remained stained, no matter how much we washed them, and the kids loved a rainy day. Their parents, not so much.
The path followed the winding hills of our land, where cottages perched atop them, their thatched roofs thick to protect from storm and cold. Old fences surrounded the fields where livestock slept, and the occasional dog barked at any critters attempting to break their way into a henhouse.
The cottage I called home sat on the outskirts of town. A single light shone through the window by the arched doorway. An old fence surrounded the property, the wood rotting. The gate squeaked in the slightest breeze and groaned when I pushed it open. The gray cobblestones Uncle Fern and I laid together led to the front door painted a brilliant blue that none could miss. Inside, Aunt Agnes waited at the dining table.
The cottage consisted of four rooms with the kitchen, dining, and lounge area crushed into one. At the back, two doors led to the bedrooms shared between the five of us. The final room was a small washing area converted from an old pantry. If one wasn’t careful while washing, they’d scrape their elbows on the walls, speaking from experience. We never had much, but we had what we needed, and that was all anyone should ever ask for.
Aunt Agnes smiled. The lamplight caught in the blue of her eyes. She tried hiding the streaks of gray in her blonde hair by stuffing the pieces into a messy bun. “Indy, welcome home,” she said from the table where her hands, tanned by years inthe sun, laid on my neatly folded dress, the new one I bought. “The girls had a little accident today.”
“An accident, or were they starting trouble?” I asked.
Aunt Agnes stood to hold up the dress, revealing the stained skirt that she no doubt struggled to get out.
“Maude and Susannah were playing in their fort again. They tracked mud throughout the house and on the beds,” she explained carefully.
I laid out the dress that morning, considering sending it with Aunt Agnes tomorrow to sell in the city. Even if I couldn’t make back what I paid, we could get something, but with the stains, no one would buy it.
“I am so sorry. I gave the girls a good scolding,” she said.
Removing my cloak, I hung it by the door with the others. “Don’t get angry with them for playing. I shouldn’t have had it out.”
“They’ll get away with everything if you don’t discipline them a little.”
“They get away with everything, even with discipline.” I took the dress I had once been so proud of.
The garment wasn’t as grand as Francesca’s, but it was soft and new, with a cute collar. When I saw myself in the shop's mirror, I hardly recognized the girl smiling back at me. New clothes weren’t a necessity. I took a chance, and that chance went sour. Lesson learned; at least this lesson wasn’t learned with a concussion. Although my aching heart tried arguing that this pain was worse, ever so dramatic.
“I hope you didn’t stay up to tell me this.” I folded the dress to tuck under my arm. “It’s late. You should get your rest.”
“As should you.” She hugged me tight. “You don’t need to work at Ysabel’s every night. We’re managing.”
“We’ll manage better with this.” I grabbed her hand to set the coins in her palm. “We should have enough to get Maude her medicine when she undoubtedly catches her fall cold.”
Aunt Agnes thanked me in a soft whisper. We both knew what happened if we couldn’t afford medicine, having already lost Uncle Fern and my mother. I refused to let Maude suffer as they had.
“Get your rest,” my aunt said. “And at least pretend to be upset with the girls in the morning. They deserve a little scare.”
