Meia came out of her room into the hallway. It was a hallway with a few doors and a staircase that took up a quarter of the space. To the left of her door was a real window. The hallway had been spared the slope of the roof and was full height. Meia liked her window, but unlike hers, this one could be opened wide. If someone was at the front door, you could see it from here. Just to the right of her door was already the stair railing. If someone came up the stairs, you could see that from here too.

Meia hurried. Only a small runner between the wall and the banister muffled the rumbling of her steps. Turning into the stairs, she gripped the railing. The steps creaked several times under her weight. She let her hand slide over the wood and under her fingers she noticed the dents where the paint had chipped. The pictures from the wall caught her eye again. There was no escaping them. They looked like sample images of nature. As if they had been sold with the frame.

Down the stairs you could ran towards the front door, but Meia turned right at the bottom. Through the doorless passage she came into the dining room and as she entered the room, she noticed who was sitting at the end of the table on the left. In the same breath, she slowed her pace and the thought occurred to her whether she should change her clothes first.

"I wish you good morning, Father."

Her father lowered the newspaper. His look was brief and full of disinterest. It did not even last a second, then his face disappeared behind the paper again. "Morning." was the only word he had for her, then he let the paper rustle as if to make it clear that he was busy. Perhaps it was better this way.

The dining room was half a kitchen. That meant there were cupboards, but there was also a separate kitchen for the housemaid to cook. In essence, this dinning room was only for breakfast. For all other meals there was another larger room with a fireplace. It was also at the front of the house just on the other side of the stairs and thus under Meia's room. Both these rooms had two walls with very wide windows. In the corner of the window in this room was a long table with chairs. The furniture was dark wood with decorative elements and red upholstery. Almost all the furniture in this house looked similar. It was probably all heirlooms. Meia did not know for sure.

The table was set. Meia sat down at her usual place at the corner of the table under the window. Her breakfast included a choice of one of two kinds of juice or milk, one of two kinds of bread and many different other things to go with it. A soft-boiled egg was obligatory. She quickly made her choices. White bread with butter and jam, a yoghurt and orange juice would be it. These choices were due to a craving for sweets that had been haunting her since last night. Of course she would eat the egg too. After all, it had been cooked especially for her. It would be brazen to leave it behind. As she sorted out her selection, she could not help but yawn, but hid it behind her hand. At the same time, her eyes went to her father. He already had nothing left. Only a cup of coffee was still in front of him.

Her father always seems serious and confident. He was a man with hair like autumn leaves, but most of it had already been swept away. And the first snow was already on the sides. Gaunt was a word that partially described him. But not quite. He was more like the rest of an impressive person. Among the sample pictures in the hallway was an older one of him. Strong and tall he was there. He was not anymore. But you could still see the past. You guessed he used to be someone. Her father always wore expensive clothes to keep up appearances, but if you saw him every day, you knew his wardrobe did not actually have much. It would be better if he accepted reality.

Meia did not let herself be influenced by these thougts. With joyful anticipation she tackled her breakfast.

The bread was already sliced, so she saved herself the division. Unfortunately, butter did not achieve any appreciable land gains. The strawberry jam, on the other hand, she spread so thickly that the bread had to fight desperately to keep it for the rest of its existence. When lifted, it bent like a rotten ceiling beam, but there were no real consequences. She even managed to take a bite without suffering any collateral damage to her pajamas.

"Hmpf."

Snootily, she munched on her sweet bread. For a true professional, it was an expected result to not have made any mistakes. Of course, she had precisely determined all the parameters in advance that would influence the maximum thickness of the jam layer. Humidity and atmospheric pressure were estimates from years of experience as a jam connoisseur. While she chewed, she was already getting back to work. Once again, the butter was applied quickly. However, despite her undeniable infallibility, she still took less of the strawberry jam this time. It was a spontaneous decision, as an adaptation to the newly gained knowledge in the field of breakfast production. One simply had to move with the times. Finally, with a single skilful stroke of the knife, she also removed the blob of jam from the table surface that someone clumsy had left there. She even went over with a napkin. It was only natural to make up for the shortcomings of others when you are the best.

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In reality, it was quite rare that Meia had to make her own food. Usually, the housekeeper did such things.

Meia did not mind at all. Working on her own, she could give free rein to her sugar addiction.

Suddenly the front door rattled, or rather the panes in the door rattled when it was opened and closed. Footsteps came down the hallway. The housemaid came into the dining room. She went straight to her father. "Mr. Arvis, you have received some mail," she explained, laying out a stack of letters for him. While doing so, she tried to disturb him as little as possible.

"Mhm, thanks.", her father only murmured back without taking his eyes off the newspaper.

The housemaid made a small bow. She lifted her dress at the sides with her fingers. She always did that. It was a bit superfluous. She then wanted to leave, but before she did, she stopped again at the doorway. "I'll take care of the garden now. Do I need to do anything else?" she asked in the room.

Her father shook his head. Meia was unsure whether he had even heard the question. It did not seem so.

"The water in my bathroom is not working again. I already tried to crank, but that didn't work either. Can you fix it again?"

As the housemaid heard her request, it looked for a moment as if her mind had left the present.

"Mr- Mr Arvis, did you hear that? Perhaps it would be better to have a plumber look at the problem after all."

Meia listened up. The housemaid had dared to give a recommendation. She was not entitled to do that. Anything could happen now. And as expected, her father lowered the newspaper. Talking back was the only thing he could always hear. His gaze was sufficient that he did not really need to say anything more and the housemaid was already starting to look like she was regretting her decision. Meia watched the development attentively, while quietly sucked her pudding from the spoon.

"Don't complain, fix it."

"If that's what you want, I'll try. I just really don't want to break anything."

"Nothing breaks. It's a pressure problem. Just turn up the pressure until it runs again. My goodness... It's not that difficult. A craftsman learns that on the first day."

That was all he had to say, then his gaze went back to the newspaper.

The lhousemaid bowed again and this time more deeply. "I will take care of it," she declared humbly. Still, she could not completely hide her disappointment.

"Do it now. She's been running around in her pyjamas for half the day as it is. I don't want her to have an excuse to extend that to the rest of the day."

~What have I got to do with it?~ The side blow had been unnecessary. Nevertheless, Meia left it uncommented. The day was still going reasonably well so far. There was no need to push it.

The housemaid bowed a third time and this time with multiple nods of her head. "Of course," she reaffirmed her determination. After that, she disappeared into the hallway for a few seconds, then she came straight back and past the doorway with two full paper bags in her hands. It was the shopping she had lugged up the hill and now had to put away. Meia sucked a spoon empty. There was a clatter from the pantry. Meia sucked a spoon empty. Footsteps hurried across the corridor and there was a clatter from the storeroom. At the next spoonful, she was already passing the doorway again, now with a small toolbox in her hands, which she wanted to take up the stairs. Meia knew the expression on her face. It was anxiety. It looked as if she had already suffered permanent mental damage from previous work in her alternative job as a craftsman.

"Quiet there!" her father yelled angrily into the hallway.

The attempt at encouragement temporarily lured the housemaid back into the dining room to apologize. She probably just wanted to delay her work though.

The equipment was to repair the water tank. It was acting up again today, which is why Meia had not yet been able to wash herself and was basically confined to her bed for hours. Unfortunately, that happened quite often lately. Usually it was enough to crank up the pressure on the tank to the limit and pray that it would work. However, Meia's strength was not sufficent for that, so the housemaid had to do it. Either the tank itself or part of the water pipes were defective. Her father, however, stringently refused to spend even a coin on a proper repair and instead used the housemaid as a craftsman. If she repeated it often enough, her father seemed to think it would be the same as an apprenticeship. Meia also only got hot water when she wanted to bathe. They did not have it all the time. This impertinence was also due to the inferior tank. Because it stored heat so poorly, it was supposedly too expensive to keep the water constantly warm. But her father also did not want to have a modern tank installed because it would be even more expensive than the craftsman. According to these reasons, they would remain with a broken tank.

.../ End Part