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running away with you."
    Alfie didn't say anything, just watched the
exchange between them.
    "When the house has been righted, it
will start feeling more homely, you'll see," Anne said with such
finality it invited no more discussion. It didn't help anyone Lisle
telling fantastical tales when they were all stranded in an
isolated house where shadows seemed to move on their own at night.
She was stirring up trouble, but Lisle seemed to like causing a bit
of trouble.
    There was no more conversation that evening
and Anne excused herself to retire upstairs. Lisle didn't follow,
instead chose to stay in the kitchen, which Anne shouldn't
encourage, but felt powerless to stop. She couldn't very well
forbid Lisle from speaking to one of the two persons in their small
and simple lives. Lisle wasn't a complete ninny; she knew how to
keep herself… strong.
    With a heavy mood, Anne closed the
door to her bedroom. Luckily there was moonlight that night so she
could conserve what was left of her bedside candle. Perhaps they
needed to get a beehive so they could produce their own wax and
honey, but she had no idea how one procured a beehive. Why was she
so utterly unprepared for everything? Because she was supposed to
have a husband that took care with her and did what was necessary.
Now she was discarded like an old newspaper, left to fend for
herself like an abandoned dog no one wanted anything to do
with.
    Sadness threatened to envelop her again as
she lay down underneath her blankets, having hung up her gown. No,
she had to be grateful; she had this house and it was everything.
This house was her savior. She would just have to learn to fend for
herself. Others managed.
    Weariness set in and she couldn't keep
her eye open, falling asleep short moments later.
     
    She walked down corridors
that didn't seem to end. She'd lost track of where she was. Was she
on the third floor? Nothing looked familiar. The paintings on the
walls stared down at her accusingly, as if she was an impostor in
the house. She couldn't even remember where she was trying to go,
but she had to get there, there was something important
there—something she couldn't forget.
    Now it was dark and there
was coal dust. The heady smell of coal and smoke tickled her nose.
It looked like a basement, but there wasn't a basement in the
house. But everything seemed familiar, and yet not, as if she was
supposed to know it.
    A set of stairs led up and
she followed them, returning to the corridors which stretched along
each side. Looking down, she noted the
candle holder in her hand, but the candle had burned down to
nothing. If she put it down, she'd lose it and she'd never find it
again. She needed a candle holder, but then it was gone. She had
put it somewhere. Turning, she tried to find it, but there were
only vases on the few tables she saw.
    In an alcove, she saw Alfie leaning over
Lisle. They were whispering and both turned to her when they
noticed her, hard eyes considering her.
    She wanted to call out, ask them how to get…
where? Instead, she kept walking and they returned to their
whispering. They were much too close; it was inappropriate. Lisle
would lose herself if she wasn't careful.
    A thought crawled through
her mind as if spoken, saying they would have the house if it
wasn't for her. She could disappear and no one would bother looking
for her, and they would have the house all to themselves. Unease
sat like dampness between her shoulder blades. Everything felt cold
and damp. There was a window open and rain was coming in, ruining
the carpet.
     
    Anne woke with a start. It was still dark,
but the unease of the dream followed her. Leaning over, she lit the
nub of the candle and soft light spread through the room. It wasn't
dawn yet, but she had no idea what time it was.
    Sitting up, she tried to shake the remnants
of the dream. It was just her anxiety finding a voice, she told
herself. The notion that Lisle and Alfie would covet the house was
ludicrous. They barely