Storm and Silence (Storm and Silence #1) - Robert Thier Page 0,12

we had arrived at this house years ago, the room had been dusty and unused, and my uncle had never set foot in it. He had probably been afraid the annoyingly beautiful view might distract him, or worse, tempt him to actually take a walk and thus waste valuable time he otherwise could have spent working.

But that had been just fine with me. When we had arrived at my uncle’s, I had seen the dusty, deserted old room, fallen in love with it and taken possession before any of my sisters could complain. I had defended my conquest with my very life! Only Ella, my youngest sister, and of all of them the one I could stomach best, had been allowed to enter my dominion and make her abode there along with me.

Right now, the fact that my room looked out over the back garden came in handy in a way which had nothing whatsoever to do with the beautiful view. Hurrying across the street, I opened the little door in the garden wall with the key I had secretly ‘borrowed’ from my uncle, along with his clothes and passport. Inside, I quickly made my way to the garden shed. Taking out the rickety old ladder that had been in there since time immemorial, I carefully put it to the wall of the house and started climbing up to the window which I had taken care to leave unlatched. If I was lucky, I would get back into the house without anybody being the wiser.

Climbing up the ladder proved to be considerably more difficult than climbing down had been. My muscles were aching from the night in the cell, and there seemed to be several large lead weights tied to my behind, pulling me down. Or maybe it was just my behind that felt so heavy…

No! It was just generous, after all, not fat. Definitely not fat.

Sweat ran down my face in rivulets by the time I had reached the top of the ladder. I clung to the windowsill for a moment, making sure my aching legs would be up for the task, then I hoisted myself inside and landed rather inelegantly on the floor. Done! I was back home, and nobody had seen me sneak in. I remained kneeling on the floor for a moment longer to catch my breath, and then turned and got up - to find my sister Ella sitting just a few feet away on her bed, staring at me, her mouth agape in shock.

Oh, did I happen to mention she hadn’t known anything of my leaving yesterday?

Blast, blast, blast!

Who He Really Is

‘Where have you been?’ Ella demanded in a breathless voice, jumping up from the bed, where, judging from the dampness of her pillows, she had spent half the night crying in despair. ‘Oh Lilly, I’ve been so worried!’

She definitely looked worried. Her normally cream-coloured face had taken on the hue of a freshly whitewashed wall, except for her large almond eyes, which were shining with suppressed anguish. With both hands, she held a handkerchief to her mouth as if to stifle a scream that was on the tip of her tongue. Glittering tears decorated her face like diamonds. I had to hand it to her: she looked like a perfect damsel in distress. And it hadn’t even been she who had spent the night in prison. How did she do it?

‘What has happened to you, Lilly? Were you abducted? Who were you with? Where were you? And… Why are you wearing Uncle Bufford’s old striped trousers?’ At the last question, she actually stopped crying. Apparently, my wearing striped trousers had a calming effect on her. I should try to do it more often.

‘Don’t worry,’ I told her, patting her on the head. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’

‘Yes, but where were you?’ she repeated the question with more force.

I shrugged. ‘Out.’

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere in town.’

‘You’ve been gone the whole night!’

‘Have I?’ I tried to sound surprised. It didn’t sound very convincing, unfortunately. ‘My, my, how time flies.’

‘Why are you wearing Uncle Bufford’s trousers?’ she asked again. Apparently, this point was of extraordinary significance to her.

‘Well, I…’ Desperately I wracked my brain for some legitimate reason why a girl should be wandering through London dressed in trousers.

Instinctively, my eyes slid up and down Ella’s figure. She was dressed in what was considered normal and decent for a young lady to wear: a pale cotton gown with wide, puffed sleeves and lace trimmings, and, of course, the crinoline, a structure