"No sign of him?"
The man's head shook, looking at the street, shivering slightly in the cold. Though the noontime sun shone brightly, a cold, bitter wind blew across the snowy hills, not blocked a single breath by the schoolhouse.
Anne was incredulous. "Two and a half years later, and he's still missing?"
"It's a big world," was the constable's reply.
"Something tells me you haven't really been looking," she accused, and she meant it. The doctor who at stolen their money years ago had still not been apprehended, and it angered her to no end.
"You're sure it was this doctor? Couldn't it have been a common cattle thief?"
"Are you going to keep arguing, or are you going to do your job, Constable? I don't care if it was the doctor or if it was a common cattle thief!"
He had been beaten, and he knew it, too. "I'll keep looking," he mumbled.
"You'd better." Hadn't the MacEilans been promised justice by this constable? To another family, a bit over twenty dollars was almost nothing. To them, it was everything, and then it was gone. Was she skipping her lunch hour for this? She was giving up time with Victoria to argue with this mule- headed man, who clearly had no veneration on her behalf, and it annoyed her.
The constable walked away from the schoolyard, beaten, and a part of Anne smirked a little to see that she had knocked a little sense into him.
*****
"Back so soon, Emma? Is it Monday yet?" The old woman was propped up on one elbow in the shadowy room. Although it was only the late afternoon, Mrs. Remigrant had insisted that the drapes be shut that day.
"No, Mrs. Remigrant," Emma sighed. "I missed the train."
"Why on earth did you do that?"
"I didn't mean to." It came out sharper than she had meant it. She cringed and tried to make up for her mistake. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, I-"
"It's alright, child. Is there another train tonight?"
Emma shook her head, despair settling deeper. "No."
"Is there one tomorrow?"
Emma's head lifted, and she looked into the old woman's dark brown eyes. I had forgotten about tomorrow! "Perhaps," she said, feeling a little better. She'd only have one night home, and not even a full day, but she'd be home!
"Perhaps, ma'am," reminded Mrs. Remigrant gently. "Go see the timetables. I'll lend you the money for a ticket."
A huge smile crossed Emma's face. "Oh, thank you!"
*****
One more look at the clock showed that it was still only three- thirty. Wasn't it three- thirty ten minutes ago? Anne asked herself as she sat in the back of the room with Victoria, listening to the first- graders struggle with the spelling. Her eyes wandered from the paper she was supposed to be writing to her friend's desk- and promptly had to stifle a peal of laughter.
Victoria had drawn a terrible picture of Miss Ursland on her slate. Not only was the caricature's features outrageously exaggerated, they were perfectly mimicking what the young teacher was doing, just... funnier. Her bubble-shaped head drooped on her hand, the eyes half-open slits and the mouth gaping in a small, open- mouthed smile. Anne looked from the slate drawing to the model. Although Anne did rather like Miss Ursland, it was entertaining to have such a perfect caricature.
"What's funny?" asked Victoria innocently. Anne tried to compose herself, but snorted more loudly than she had intended to.
Miss Ursland's drooping head snapped to attention, and both girls tried their best to pretend they were innocent and write their papers, but it was far too late. Anne knew she and her friend were doomed to a detention, lashing, or a suspension the second she felt the teacher's burning gaze upon her face. Victoria wisely erased the slate as quickly as her slim hands could manage.
"Victoria Smith, what would your father say?"
"He'd say you needed to make our assignments more interesting, ma'am," she replied without missing a beat. "I'm not entirely sure I like the topic of sea turtles in the Caribbean and South Pacific seas. Besides, we haven't got any books on the assigned topic, ma'am." She smiled sweetly, innocently, and if Anne hadn't spoken English, she would have thought her friend was complimenting the teacher's new way of piling her chestnut hair on her head.
Miss Ursland's jaw dropped, her brown eyes going wide and her cheeks flushing with blotchy color. "Go!" she snapped. "Go home, Miss Smith, and don't come back until Monday. Five days should be plenty of time for you to think about what you've just so audaciously said."
Amidst the class' wide- eyed stars and open, shocked mouths, Victoria curtsied, nodded, and picked up her books, still smiling sweetly. "God save the queen!" she cried as she opened the door and walked outside in the cold winter air, leaving her thick blue shawl behind.
Anne raced to the shawl, taking it with one hand and wrapping her own shawl around her shoulders. "Victoria, your shawl!" she cried, dashing outside.
"You too, Anne!" came the teacher's cry, but Anne didn't care. She closed the door and ran into the schoolyard, the shawl flapping in the gently falling snowflakes.
Anne quickly caught up to her laughing friend, and they stood on the empty street for just a moment, laughing with the sheer rashness of a minute before. When they were done, Anne passed on the shawl to Victoria, who wrapped it gratefully around her shoulders. "Thank you."
"Do you think you'll go back? To school, I mean." They started walking down the road, their view only enhanced by the silent snowflakes fluttering down from heavy gray clouds.
"I suppose I'm not sure. I can read, and write, and do sums, so what's the point? I don't want to be a teacher- I wouldn't want to deal with brats like Judith and blockheads like Henry."
"Victoria!" Anne giggled, despite the shock of Victoria's remark.
"What?"
*****
In the dark shadows of the barn, he waited. They had left the house for the day, that he was sure of- Mary and Jane to town for something- or other, Emma, home for a week's holiday, had taken Elizabeth and Maria to a neighbor's and had stayed, probably with the handsome oldest son.
And Anne- he smiled at the thought- she was the only one still in school. It was just past three- thirty, and school got out at four. Add a one- mile walk, and he had just over forty minutes. It wouldn't take long for him to do his work- in and out of the tiny excuse for a house, and he'd have time to get home and let the falling snow cover his footprints.
Satisfied, he took a cautious step from the shadows and he ran towards the door. The lock was faulty, easy to break, and it took hardly a moment to open. He stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him.
He knew where the tiny wooden chest lay- and he stealthily walked to it, not wincing at the creak of a floorboard. He was alone, and his solitude was his best ally. It proved what he had always known- that in silence, in darkness, in isolation, you could see yourself, untainted by sunlight. Seclusion was a weapon, a curse, a friend to him. He had known light, and love, but inwardly he recoiled at the sight of it. Evil felt like a fresh breeze on the world. He lived for it, but oh, how he wished the world could see it! Maybe they would not make him hide it, mayhap he could put down the silly charade of a young man with an innocent life and a young woman at his side.
The chest contained a total of twenty- five dollars and fifty- seven cents. He scooped it into his pocket, closing the wooden lid. Silently as he had come, he walked away, feeling no remorse at his actions.
Do you have suspicions as to who the thief is or do you think he is an unintroduced character? Remember to vote please!