many times tryin' to help us. He's saved my skin more than once. I wish he wouldn't. He's strong, real strong, but they bound to get `im soon. I'm - I'm scared for `im."
Patsy looked up, the fear evident in her face for the first time. She had seemed so strong before, older than her years. Her youth shone out now.
She was barely more than a child.
Annabel sat beside her feeling more useless than ever. She had a position of phenomenal power but here she could not use it to help even this one girl. She could think of nothing to say that would in any way ease Patsy's suffering so chose to remain silent, looking on at the two siblings wrapped in each-others tender embrace.
How did people live like this and still manage to find love within their hearts? It begged belief.
Noticing Annabel's discomfort, Patsy changed the subject.
"I'll try to bring some stuff over tomorrow, to help. You should at least `av a thicker blanket. Maybe candles too. Make it nicer...kinda."
Annabel looked down, embarrassed for the first time about her former, privileged life. So what if she had to endure this place for a few months? These people had lived here their entire lives.
"Thank you Patsy," she murmured. There was a new, strange stirring of pity in her heart. "I'm very grateful."
"Wha's grateful mean?"
Annabel was taken aback.
"Oh, um showing that you like what someone has done or given you...I suppose."
Patsy smiled. "Then...I'm grateful you came."
She reached over and squeezed Annabel's hand. Unused to displays of physical affection Annabel froze but after a few moments felt herself relax. The warmth of this new person's touch travelled up her arm and she squeezed back, enjoying the alien sensation of closeness. After a few minutes Patsy rose to her feet and Billy began to cry, pleading with her not to leave.
"You know I gotta go Billy, I'm sorry. I'll be back soon, honest."
She gave him a motherly smile, kissed him on the cheek and walked out the door. Billy crawled back into his corner where the sound of his breathing quickly regulated as he drifted off to sleep.
Annabel leant against the wall, looking up at the dusty loft. After a moment she found her gaze once more on the splintering ladder. Forcing herself to a standing position, she set her bare feet on the jagged rungs and climbed.
At the top she found another, much smaller room. The floor was uneven and creaky, covered in at least an inch of dust. It puffed up around her with every step she took, making her nose tickle and her feet itch. The exposed rafters above her head were sloped, meaning she had to walk bent double most of the time. The only light came from a tiny window overlooking part of the forest. It was so covered in grime it was impossible to see anything more than an outline of the stunning view. Beneath this window sat several long forgotten bales of straw, becoming nothing more than food for rats.
Over the next few hours she dragged the bales across the floor, sweating with the effort, and into the right hand corner of the tiny loft. Sprinkling some of the softer hay from downstairs over the top of the older she draped it with her new apron, until she had managed to fashion a structure somewhat resembling a bed.
After this, Annabel climbed back down the ladder, searching for anything to brighten up the place. Her search grew more thorough until she stumbled upon a group of dandelions sprouting from the mossy wall beside the door. She picked them with a sense of childish joy and put them in the battered jug, now empty of water, which had been delivered to them that day. She set the flowers on the narrow ledge below the window. Stepping back to admire the effect, just as the sun was sinking below the trees, she smiled. It was a satisfying feeling; the knowledge she had created this sanctuary, however simple, with nothing but her own hands. This must be why people worked, she thought.
Retreating to the miserable downstairs stable, Annabel tried to coax Billy