Elle (Sample)

Chapter Four

With the money sitting heavily in her purse, Elle was reluctant to stay any longer than needed at the hotel. After Dean dropped her off, she changed, packed her things and checked out. Thanks to local tube connections it took her very little time to get home.

     When she arrived at her Grandmother's house in the early hours, a horrifying sight awaited her. The handle sat limply on the door, which hung off its hinges giving clear view to the destruction inside. Whoever had broken into the house had cleaned them out, nothing but mess left in their wake. But Elle couldn't give a crap – what mattered to her wasn't their material goods, but the safety of her family.

      Carrying her as swiftly as they could, her legs seemed to move of their own accord. She clambered over piles of paper and trinkets discarded from the drawers that had previously sat in the hallway, and ran up the stairs. Trent's room was nearest, located just opposite hers, and she opened the door with her heart in her mouth.

     Everything was intact, not a thing out of place. Moonlight shone through gaps in the blinds, casting eerie shadows upon the walls that had Elle even more on edge. It illuminated her son's small figure, and she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Checking the room thoroughly to make sure the intruders weren't hiding in here, her heart drummed unevenly against her chest.

     Trent lay in bed, completely unaware of the chaos that had erupted beneath him as he slept. And once Elle was through checking his room, she moved onto her Grandmother's and her own, and every other nook and cranny she could search for intruders. Granny Mae was as unaware as Trent, her soft snores bouncing from her bedroom walls.

     Elle was thankful that although they'd been burgled, those close to her were safe.

Once it was apparent to her that no harm had come of anyone, fury blanketed her. She stood in the lounge and observed the damage, her hands balled into fists as she shook without being cold. How could anyone do this? she thought. We have nothing... what we did have had no value. It's senseless.

     There were only 4 hours until the other 2 would wake, expecting to have Sunday breakfast sat around a family table that they no longer owned. It didn't make sense for her to wake them any earlier to tell them; for now, they would sleep and be blissfully unaware that any of this had happened.

     Being dealt this card left Elle with little choice. The money she earned that night couldn't replace all they had lost, even if she didn't have bills and food to consider. On Monday she'd call Dean to take him up on his offer, whatever it entailed.

     Once she had found a way to set the door back in its frame, Elle picked up a dustpan and brush and set to work on clearing away the debris. It would, she hoped, work to alleviate some of the stress of the break in.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"It's a blessing in disguise really. I'd wanted to get rid of that bloody coffee table ever since your Great Grandmother gave it to us as a wedding gift."

     Mae had awoken before Trent and, despite her initial shock, had taken the burglary in good humour. It was a foreign concept to Elle – how could she have nearly everything she owned and worked hard for snatched away, yet remain endlessly positive?

"I think you're overlooking the fact that we have no way to replace our furniture, Nan," Elle mused as she massaged her temples.

"We'll find a way, darling. We always do."

     With yet another burden on her back, Elle didn't know how much more she could handle. She felt as though she was balanced on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall. All it would take was one more problem, one small gust of air, to push her over and towards breaking point.

"You're right," Elle said, although she believed the opposite. Trent was watching her expectantly, and she knew he was banking on her being optimistic. If she said everything was okay, then Trent knew everything would be.

      As Mae bustled off to put the kettle on, walking with a swift determination that all 70 year old women seemed to possess, Elle sat on the floor of the lounge. It was startlingly bare, every small sound reverberating from the walls as though to mock their lack of belongings.

"What if they come back, Mum?" Trent asked.

      He cast a cautionary look towards the kitchen. Even as he was embroiled in fear, his first instinct was to make sure to protect Mae from the discomfort of being aware of it.

"They won't," she assured him, pulling her son in for a hug. She wished there was more to be said to comfort him, but short of adding 'we have nothing left for them to take', she didn't know what else to say.

"Are we going to call the police?"

"Yes baby," Elle said, smoothing down his dark, wirey hair. "They'll find who did this – don't you worry that handsome head of yours."

      Although she didn't truly believe it, the white lie would help Trent sleep that night.

      The three of them waited in the lounge for the police to arrive, squatted on the floor and drinking Earl Grey. Much like when the electric meter ran out, or the TV company cut them off, they whiled away the hours by playing cards and listening to Mae's stories of her youth. It was bittersweet, as it always was.

      A spate of recent burglaries in the area meant the police were both saddened yet unsurprised when they arrived. PC Bradshaw had assured them he would do all he could to use the evidence they found, but Elle knew that even if they caught the bastards there would be little chance of them getting their things back.

      No matter if they had money, the family trinkets and heirlooms couldn't be replaced. But it would have made the ordeal easier to digest... and provided a quality security system to have avoided the whole thing.

     The following day, Elle would have to swallow her pride. She toyed with the card in her pocket, wondering what – if anything – Dean could offer her.