Élise

• Naomi Clements, Grade 10, Riverina Anglican College
• Short Story
• 2011

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

I stopped abruptly, certain that I had heard a sound. A shiver ran down my spine. After thirty seconds of frozen, panicked silence, I decided it must be safe. Treading softly, I placed my fingers carefully on the cool brass doorknob. It turned with a soft click.

Feeling my way in the near darkness, I gathered my sense of direction and then headed confidently for the desk. The rich mahogany wood was silky to touch. Silently, I reached for a drawer.

Locked.

It was of no consequence to me anyway. I reached into my blouse and withdrew the key I had slipped out of Damien’s pocket earlier; when I kissed him. I almost chuckled when I thought of his passionate reaction. Then, pushing all romantic thoughts firmly from my mind, I methodically began to search the drawers.

At last, success! I slid the sheaf of papers out as silently as was humanly possible. Retracing my steps back towards the door, my eyes, now adjusted, scanned the darkness.

As I slid jubilantly through the narrow slit of doorway, a hand clamped tightly over my mouth. All thoughts of secrecy now forgotten, I bit the sweaty fingers hard and forced my elbow determinedly into their chest. My attacker released me with a small yelp of pain.

A quick sprint down the hallway and up a small flight of plush carpeted stairs and I was safely ensconced in the haven of my room. When James came to inform me of the ‘incident’, I was feigning sleep. My dark hair cascaded across the pillow and I breathed evenly. ‘She’s fine.’ I heard James say; and with this comforting confirmation of my successful ruse, I drifted off to sleep.



I awoke with a start, torn from my dream by a sharp knocking on the timber door. Hurriedly slipping into a dressing gown, I pulled open the door.
James, the master of the house, stood before me.
I greeted him cordially, in French, with a flawless accent. It was time to carry out the second phase of my plan. I politely excused myself from attending breakfast, pleading a headache. He made no mention of the night’s disturbance, and neither did I. After all, I had supposedly slept through it.
He gave gracious permission for me to spend the day in my room. Artfully concealing my inner delight, I put a languid hand to my head and thanked him deferentially. He left the room, and I immediately set to work.
I withdrew the papers from my drawer, staring for a long moment at the intricate wax seal. Carefully removing it, I began copying the information word for word in perfect copperplate writing.
As I finished, I picked up the wax seal again. Replacing it, I recreated the complicated pattern easily. Intuitively hiding all evidence of the night’s wandering, I grimly acknowledged the consequences if I were to be caught.
As if on cue, footsteps echoed down the polished wooden hallway.