Best Area To Live In Francisco

Beatrice - Chapter 2



Chapter 1 here
BEATRICE


Chapter Two
Sleep in Peace

Lavender's Point of View


Monday 23 October 1995

Finally!, I think. Finally a letter from her! The last days I was sitting, whenever it was possible entangled on the sideboard in the kitchen, his arms on the window sill, her chin on a bed, and sought the Sky after an owl from that would bring me news of her. Does it really so long to arrive from Thailand post in England? I was wondering whether, when is with her, perhaps something went wrong with the port to key example, and that they did not land in Thailand but in the desert, maybe even right in an ocean. If I remember correctly, Clarissa is not necessarily the best swimmer. At least they will never come when I go swimming in the summer.

sent the owl that Clarissa is pitch black and tiny. Looks like a Kampfeule if you have enough imagination begins. When I bend over to her solve the letter from the legs, I notice the sharp claws and razor-sharp beak. Kampfeule, I said that. So the owl can relax, I put out water and biscuits owls. Presumably, they will go at night around here to hunt, so that they will have enough energy for the return journey. Woe to them forgetting to bring my message for Clark (More likely is that I forget
their mitzugeben the message.).
The writing is my sister, as always, remarkably uniform. Nice swinging, and always legible. Even if they scribbled hastily on a memo to the she then sticks on the kitchen table to decipher every single word with no problem. I, however, I must give the greatest difficulty in writing, otherwise I can not even read it at the end. Clarissa stands for right, I for chaos. We can complement very well that no one deny.

Wednesday 18 October 1995
love Lavender,

I arrived, more bad than good. I have never used so many key port in turn. God was angry with me, when I was finally there, terrible. Did you anyone ever dug out with a spoon up the guts and then placed on a carousel? Something like that feels a trip to Thailand. As a Muggle would travel to ensure easier and more enjoyable was, but that is so expensive. Most of the money I earn here, I will transfer you make. I do not need much, finally I have for the room and the meals pay nothing. My room is more of a chamber with a bed and dresser. The bathroom is in the hall, we have to share it with each other. With me there are a total of 7 people who live on the same floor in the house. We all start on Monday, until then we get to sell us the time to know us. In the first week we have tried to get us out of the way to go. We are all a little shy. Meanwhile, I consider myself fairly well with Evy, she has the same the room next to mine. Evy with their long (
really long) hair always in a complicated coiffure when she needs help. When I am in favor of range expected for the first time with the magic wand, I would have almost disfigured. (Fortunately, she has not held against me. On enemies or similar I can do without.) Yesterday we were allowed to visit the Deloveya, from top to bottom. (Have the basement we can skip, but dust and flies.) It is the St Mungo's actually very similar, yet different. There are more different stations, more departments, the more you need to know. I was really in love with the Deloveya, honest. So I've always imagined. How much will I learn here! Thanks for making me you have to leave. You're right, I would have missed a golden opportunity, I would have stayed in England. Still, I miss you. When I think that I'm here for a whole year, I feel sick. You adapt well to you, promise? If something, anything, write me immediately. If you need me, I'm with you, faster than you think.

kiss from me Mum and tell her how much I love her.

Clarissa

As you can see again how different we are. I would weep in despair if I would have to learn more than it already has, but I had no problems this Evy a hairstyle can handle magic in which it would smooth her speechless.

Then it starts exactly Today, with the second part of their training. Admirable as it copes with it all. I look up to her, more than any other. She is only 5 years older than me, and yet separate us some worlds. Sometimes I think that Clarissa has always known what she wants and what will become of her. In St. Mungo's, she was something of a star. The most gifted, skill tests among the trainees. I am not surprised you have even offered to be trained in addition to Thailand, to specialize. Next year she comes back, then you argue about who is allowed to leave the first of her hand shake. The younger ones might be me even envy for that Clarissa is my sister. I would be jealous in any case, it would be the sister of another girl. I glance at the clock above the kitchen door, the nurse should be just about to wash Mum. At 10:00 clock it will go, just then, Professor Stanley come and force me to brew a potion that goes so horribly wrong that probably the whole house flies into the air. The Stanley says anyway, I was a ticking time bomb. (I'm in this regard agree with her.) My Lunch I loop down alone, except Mrs. Dukin, a widowed witch lives at the end of the road every day and makes sure that I get a hot meal, stays here and keeps me company. She is very lonely, so she comes over more often, bring me cookies, Muggle magazines for girls my age I devour with enthusiasm, little things they discovered in the city and wants to give me. I prefer to have it when they burst into the house (It has for years a key) while I try to get through my private lessons in magic potions. Clarissa and I was always so Mrs. Dukin something like a kind of substitute Grandmother, and she is more than 10 years older than Mum. Her husband, we have not met. We also do not know what Mr. Dukin died, only that he has left his wife almost a fortune.
I dig in the drawer for a pen that works, get out of my room the flowered stationery, the Clarissa finds so beautiful, and sit down at the big table in the living room (/ classroom). The letter will be shorter than planned, but on closer reflection, I must admit that I have to tell you absolutely nothing. Besides the usual stuff. From a Fashion magazine I cut out a page and put it in the letter (As a suggestion for Evy to try out a new hairstyle). Then I go back to the kitchen get me a cup of chocolate pudding from the refrigerator and spoon from the drawer, I heave on the dresser and put the folded letter next to me. Chocolate cheers me forever, especially as a pudding. Clarissa may, if anything, more vanilla pudding. But their sins are really small in between mostly from fat dripping things like chips. Is it in Thailand? Determined, otherwise my sister would travel back directly (After a few hours had recovered from the Port key marathon).
Miss Brown? "The nurse, I always forget her and the name of the other nurses, three, peeks around a kitchen cabinet. Her eyes remain on the silver spoon hanging, sticking in my mouth. "Could I speak for a moment?"
I jump to my feet, put aside the empty cup and sit at the table. "Of course. Is something wrong with my mother? "Please,

please, let everything be good, God, Merlin, or whoever I have to beg as a witch, do not let that something happened, please .

"It is so," she replies, and also takes place. "Mrs. Browns end feels slightly hot. You should consider whether it might not be better to move their mother in St. Mungo's. If she gets a fever, it is all the more difficult they are to maintain. " " No, "I say determined and shake my head. "You do not want to go to St. Mungos, not as long as it does not need to be urgent. Mum is here, I can take care of them determined. You must be mistaken, Mum
can not be sick, sick differently than it already has, I mean. She's never out. "What would you think of Clarissa for me when I would not take away our mother, she is barely a few days not there to watch? "It would be really easy for you, miss. Remember how much it might relieve you. "
" I have no "I said, I'm going to nurse at. It works for a moment taken aback, then she smiles, in a way that will appease me well, and leaves. No one needs me to relieve! It's hard course, I've never claimed otherwise, but there will be so presented as if I was simply unable to come to clear insolence. I wish I could dismiss this woman, but that's the whole system into disarray. Unlike me, there is nothing left but her again tomorrow to open the door.
After the double lesson of history (I'm still quite sleepy like this) I myself snuggled into bed and her mother Clarissa's letter read. She looked like forever. Not worse than usual

Tuesday, 8 November 1995 has received

Mum high fever, damn it. Would it have been wiser in the end, to listen to the smart-alecky nurse? If I let Mum immediately bring to St. Mungo's, then she would be better? She glows properly. Her eyes are watery, your hands shake strongly. I can only think one thing: If she dies, then I I blame. His own mother killed, of which I can wash me never.

is now available around the clock nursing home. In every room I stumble over one of these idiots, even in my room, they have barricaded themselves. Where I go, every few meters, I run against a heavy, leather medicine bag and threatened to fall. Most nurses I have ever seen, those who were daily in recent years with us, I set off and to ignore a soothing hand on his shoulder, the rest of me or throws me most times a due ; Steren look to. They know it. You know that, what happened to Mum, my fault. I'm so stupid! So naive, so foolish. By nine I was responsible for the deaths of an entire aquarium fish to complete, almost seven years later, I'm started to push my mother through negligence in the arms of the Reaper. But how? How did it come to this? What have I done wrong? How can I screw up this one important task in the shortest time? Again and again I might have to go through the instructions, think about where and when I began a mistake, but I think the best will not get out, took the position for the evil take its course. I have Mum never exposed to the cold, I'm sure. Her room was aired only if it has been left in another, heated room. I've always been aware that the nurse her hair dry spells. And before, between and after my private lessons I was always with her have talked with her, held her hand, not left alone. Or was just the trigger? What if I have pathogens transferred to them? Oh God, it does not matter. Nothing matters. The condition of my mother has deteriorated, as it could have happened, we will clarify from when she is feeling better. If it is going it better again, raises the pessimistic part of me one. Oh, just be quiet!

The sun sets soon, the horizon turns slowly red. I sit on the old swing in the garden behind the house, I feel miserable and let the tears for my mother for the first time in my life running free. As far as I can remember, she was always sick, exhausted more quickly. When I was still very small, almost a baby, she must have had enough strength to go outside and Clarissa to watch you play. I wonder how it is. A mother who hunts the up through the garden, turns to you in a circle and bakes cookies for you. Before, I could not get enough of them, Clarissa questioning about the healthy Beatrice. By the answers to my sister I started to give me a different, better world to imagine, to dream that one day everything will be back then. As Mum is always worse off, Clarissa has ceased to tell of the past. I think the memory and the comparison with the here and now they hurt too much.
Miss Brown? "Startled, I nearly fell off the swing. I hastily wipe away the tears with my sleeves and take a deep breath. One of the nurses is through the back door came to me in the garden and looks at me intently. I can imagine what's next.
"We must bring to St. Mungo's, is not it?"
The nurse nods. "Your mother must necessarily in-patient treatment are, at best this evening. Her sister works in Deloveya? " " Only for about a month, "I reply. "I wanted to write to her, but it takes until the mail arrives in Thailand, and I was, if by then everything would become better again? "The nurse pulls the eyebrow, ironically, almost condescending.
"There are other, faster
" ways of communication, he says. So what, I know myself! Use me but do nothing because I do not have the means. Pompous idiot. "If you agree to be embarrassed your mother in St. Mungo's, we can tell your sister from there." I resist the urge to grab me a stick and hit her so pull over. "Then we make it so, "I say, although still with me in everything always struggles against it, Mum to give up their home away. But it is only temporary, intended.

I can not imagine that my mother feels comfortable here. The room is decorated entirely in white, I would not have my blue and turquoise scarf thrown an empty chair, there was no color in it at all here. Mum is very pale, and I need not only to look in a mirror to know that I am also very cheesy in the face. Now and then a healer rushes with drawn Wand into the infirmary, measures the values my mother looks grim bargain and goes back out with a brief nod in my direction. Man Clarissa has already been notified and they will be here as soon as possible. Good. I will tell no one, as it is really about my mother. Maybe because they think I'm too young, maybe, because Clarissa the real responsibility and you will first talk to her. Mum has closed the eyes, but I do not think she sleeps. Every few minutes I see panic on my clock. Not for long, and I must go home. Alone. They allow me, on the night Mum to stay. She needs rest, they say. And: As soon as there are changes you will be notified. Class. How can they expect from me that I just now from the side of the woman soft, which has given me life? I hope she does not think I'm going voluntarily. It may not even think the approach that I would not want to be with her, only
with her.
"It is all," be good again, I whisper softly, not sure if they can hear me. "The healer will make you well again, and then we bring you home, you'll see."
flutter the fraction of a second her eyes, she replied my weak handshake. The good version of Lavender Brown would say: No, Mum, not strictly up to, rest up from. But those Lavender I am me, clinging desperately to the low possibility that Beatrice today, once again summon the strength to talk to me. Banned I see on her face down, my eyes glued to their brittle, bluish lips.

Mum? "I whispered pleadingly. "Can you hear me? Mum? " Her mouth opens wide

a tiny gap, she whispers: "Under the floorboards. Under my bed. "
I blink perplexed, still think that I'm the only imaginary. "Among the boards?" I ask. "What's there?" But Mum is not responding. Her breathing is shallow, but regularly. Puts her hand on my limp, her head tilted a little to the side. These few words, they must have brought so much that she fell into a deep sleep immediately afterwards. A nurse gently knocks at the door ajar. Time to go. »Dream sweet, Mum. Tomorrow morning I'll be back. "
In the house there is such a depressing void that I arrived, barely, on the point I go to Mrs. Dukin and spend the night with her . The only thing that keeps me from that concern which is without doubt in their eyes is displayed. You will ask me how to do it my mother and rumstottern I will try to keep their health in words, and then burst into tears. So I stay. I'm in the kitchen to the light, notice that I have absolutely no hunger and walk Instead, restlessly about the house, also in the rest rooms turn on the lights, open the door to our basement, which I think is now a lot less creepy than usual There's nothing I could do. No class, no one to talk. Sleep would be the best option, but I might even do not mind if I toss several sleep potions. Although it is stupid and only my pain even more unbearable than it already does, I find myself somewhere in my mother's room again. I can not imagine what it must be, day in and day out have to be in this bed, most of the time unable to move or speak. And there he is again, this one thought that creeps into my thinking on a regular basis: The death would be their salvation. I am ashamed, ashamed, even to such considerations to be capable. But is it really so wrong ...
? If I could, if I knew how , I would do anything to get my mother back to health. But I can not and will never will. Perhaps Clarissa, later, when she finished her education and one of the most healers in the country. But what are the chances to even if it has over the years brought none of the many healers about?
As I approach the bed, I come Mums words to mind. the floorboards. Under my bed. know more I accelerate my steps with both hands and brace the double bed to the side. Either she was not quite right mind when she spoke these words, or I shall really find. On the dark wood in a thin layer of dust, but as far as all the individual slats seem to be firmly anchored. I taste everything from a while until I discover near the wall, a body that is loose. With fingernails but I'm no more, so I'm running just decided in the kitchen, I grab a knife and make haste therewith. I imagine quite clumsy, but that's nothing new. Eventually I manage at last to solve the narrow wooden board. Photos. Lauter photos are revealed. The persons depicted do not move, there are Muggle pictures. As soon as I realized who you see on the pictures, I automatically blurts a stifled scream, immediately followed by the dark curses. The cry, because one of the people is my mother, alive and
healthy. I do not know many pictures of her, so I will each time, all jittery when I indeed once one falls into their hands. And the curse, because the other person is Malcolm Brown. My father. I never got to know him, he left our family when Mum was pregnant with me. We do not talk about him. Never. He is just the man who one day has gone easy and has let us down. A few years ago, I happened to be a wedding photo of my parents fell into the hands, just so I know what he looks like. Why Mum has told me to find these photos? She hates him because not as much as Clarissa and I hate him? Or does it want, that we should enter the worst-case and they die, turn to him? Of all people. I speak for both Clarissa and me when I say that rather hell freezes over before we look from our point of contact with this man.
When going through the photos together I must tear myself so that I can not simply tear into a thousand pieces. The two look happy. On each individual photo. They are both still very young, barely older than twenty, to some even younger. They laugh, kiss, lie in the arms. As if they were sure that their common happiness will never end. Beatrice was once incredibly pretty. On her good days her former beauty flashes or by the gray veil of the disease.
arrived at the last photo, it takes a while until I realized that mom is not in the arms of Malcolm. The man, or rather boy, is unknown to me. Mum and he turns to look at and then to the camera - a magic photo! Banned I follow with my eyes how the heads of the two approach each other again and just before their lips meet, jerkily moving toward the camera, both furtive grin. They sit on a large, flat Stone. In the background you can see the trunks of several trees and right of the picture is a grassy shore. On the back of the photo is> Summer 1973 \u0026lt;written. The writing of my mother. I expect to quickly and come to the conclusion that Mum is shortly after this recording with Clarissa become pregnant. That is, the Beatrice is in this photo just 17 years old. Fiddle. Full of life.

Wednesday, 9 November 1995


The next morning I wake up next to the empty bed of my mother. I blink a few times, confused, before my eyes fall on the scattered photos next to me and return the memory of the past hours. Hastily, I hurry to the bathroom, shower and put myself, without having first had breakfast and I conjured up the dry hair, to St. Mungos. Mum does not even notice that I have come. The doctors say I do still nothing.
soft all day I hardly longer than 5 minutes from their side, sitting on an uncomfortable chair, the lack of sleep the last few days feel it in my bones. Most of the time my mother dozing with half-closed eyelids to himself, says nothing, moveth not. Tired, I'm tired.
"Lavender, sweet, wake up." Gently caress me, someone on the back, a soothing, familiar voice whispered in my ear. Heavily I sit up, yawn and stretch me until I understand where I am and who has awakened me. My sister is slightly bent forward next to me and smiles sadly. The room is dark, only the transition falls in a little light.
Silently, I fall Clarissa's neck. Before I know it, the tears flowing again with me. Clarissa closes its arms around me, holding me while I sob quietly.
're When did you come? "I ask them after I managed to regain control of my body back. "
" A few hours, she says. "When I came, you were already asleep."
"You had me at once to awaken,"
"I wanted you still" can rest a while, she says apologetically. 'Moreover, I had some long talks with the healers. It would have been no point to rip you from your well-deserved sleep. "
At the mention of the healers I clench my hands into fists with tension. "What the healer said? What is missing Mum? "
" Lavender ..., "Clarissa says cautiously. I see it in their eyes shining suspiciously, it will make a slightly distorted sound of her voice.
"When?", I can only ask. "They say that this will probably be her last night. Lavender? " " I'm all right, "I reply. Suddenly I feel incredibly empty. Listless. This here is therefore to the end. Today, I must take leave of my mother. A woman I could never be really close, but is still the center of my universe. Fear creeps up in me will travel from the stomach into my fingertips, my toes, I filled out and makes my senses are numb. Clarissa would fall not worried about my shoulders, I could hardly even tell me their own Force to keep the feet. is
"You come to a better place, promises Clarissa. "Where do you want to know?"
"We must trust, she says. "You will find their peace. Be free. Do you hear? "
I nod slowly. You will be free. Where ever they go, it will be better than this life. It will no longer be prisoners. Never again.

My sister and I lay on both sides to Mum to bed. One last time and we go to sleep, knowing that our world when we open the next morning his eyes, no longer will be the same.