. "Raphael!"
Raphael groaned, still asleep as the voice calling his name got louder and louder, pulling him from slumber. "Raphael?" At first, the voice was soft, almost caring, but gradually turned into a loud chant, followed by something pushing against his shoulder.
"Raph-A-El! Rapl-A-El!" the voice yelled each syllable, with every gap, the boy felt pressure on his arm.
"Anita… I'm sleeping…" he mumbled into his pillow.
"You are not," she whined as she punched his arm, "Come on, wake up. It's nearly eleven o'clock."
Raphael buried his face further into the pillow of the lounge. "It is not."
As if called upon, the grandfather clock sitting in the hall chimed loudly, vibrating on the walls and bouncing around eleven times. "You're right. Now it's eleven o'clock."
Raphael groaned sitting up. Anita was sitting on the back of the lounge, smirking at his auburn red hair, messy from how he was lying on the pillow. Raphael blinked away his drowsiness. "I want to go for a walk."
Raphael raised a brow, "I want?"
Anita grunted. "I would like to go for a walk, please. I want to try one of the little cakes on the corner café."
Raphael sighed, rubbing the back of his neck then stretching. "Alright, alright. Get your coat. I'll wake up properly and then we'll get going."
Anita nodded, hopping off the lounge and running into the hall to find her coat.
Raphael chuckled, tempted to lie back down to close his eyes, but caught a glance out the window; it was a sunny day. The young boy was always wary about being cooped up inside. He understood it wasn't healthy for Anita not to go outside. She needed to socialise, exercise, play, be a kid. He glanced at the ashes sitting in the fireplace, black pile of charcoal. He stood up and poked at the remains, finding something hard. Scooping it up, he was surprised to see it was the corner of the artwork they had burnt. Somehow a small fragment had survived.
"I found it!" Anita called.
Raphael chuckled, grabbing his waistcoat and picking up his hat. When he got to the hallway, he saw Anita, wearing a white, puffy coat and matching white hat, attempting to buckle her shoes. Her hat kept slipping off her head from her leaning forwards. Raphael chuckled, kneeling and buckling up her shoes and buttoning up her coat, "You ready?"
Anita nodded, "Yep."
Raphael smoothed over his jacket and opened the door, "Milady." He bowed and gestured out the door.
"Sir." Anita curtsied and walked out.
Raphael locked the door behind them and walked down the steps, glancing to the side of the building.
Raphael closed the door behind them as Anita started skipping down the path, humming a random tune. Raphael smiled as he stretched, leaning back to stare at the sky; oddly clear of any cloud cover.
Raphael liked Paris, particularly during the day when it was properly awake. Even down their quiet street, people walked around on late morning strolls, one lady even sitting on a bench reading. Every now and then a car would go past, honking a greeting to which the kids would wave.
Raphael was a charming boy.
Anyone in Paris would say this.
With people he passed, he gave a smile and tilt of the hat, sometimes taking it off and bowing before continuing, often prompting the surprised chuckles and flattery of women and smirks of men. As the pair left the housing streets, the environment changed. Cafes and restaurants popped up on the sides of the road. Cars became frequent and more people doing early morning shopping bustled around with bags hanging from their arms. When the pair crossed the way, they held hands, and among crowds, Anita's hand would tighten.
*
"Thank you," Raphael stated, taking the bag with the small cake in it. It travelled from the countertop to Anita. She opened the paper bag to look at her frosted treat.
The pair started leaving the shopping district and heading for the park several streets over.
Anita was getting restless the closer they got to the park. She let go of Raphael's hand and jogged forwards as she made the sound of a plane flying. "Hurry up, Raphael!" she called 'flying' around a tree as she waited for him to catch up.
"The park's not going anywhere, Anita." Raphael couldn't suppress his chuckles.
They turned a corner to see Sister Wendy and Sister Allison standing before the gates of the church. They spoke kindly to people who passed and asked for donations, some dropping coins in their bucket without a word while others stopped to talk to the older women.
Sister Allison saw Anita and called out to her. "Hello, child." Sister Allison had pale blue eyes, and Raphael could imagine her as a former redhead like himself. Of all the nuns, she was the kindest and most lovely one he had ever met. She was older than most but not as old as Sister Wendy. Raphael didn't see it polite to ask specifics. What he certainly knew was that she loved children.
However, upon being called, Anita stopped several meters from the gate, waiting for Raphael to catch up before approaching.
"What might you two be up to on this beautiful morning?" she asked.
Anita replied happily, talking about how they had overslept and missed breakfast and the park and her cake and their stroll and everything she had seen that morning. All her words were quick; her sentences blurred into one. Raphael was impressed Sister Allison understood her.
"And how might you be doing Raphael?" Sister Wendy asked.
Raphael pondered with the idea that she didn't much care for him, but being a nun couldn't blatantly say so. He found her to be cynical, just as a rule, but respected her as a passionate woman of God; despite questionable morals.
"I'm well, Sister. And yourself?" Raphael conversed.
Sister Wendy overheard about the cake and offered a stern look as she said, "First no breakfast, and then cake before breakfast, Raphael. That hardly seems like a meal for a child."
Raphael sighed, forcing himself to withstand from rolling his eyes. "She's fine, Sister Wendy."
She lowered her voice as she spoke to him. "Our offer still stands, Raphael. She would fit in better here, and be taken care of."
"She's fine, Sister Wendy." Raphael's words were calm and bright, disguised to hide his growing discontent for her. However, he couldn't hold his tongue to say this, "I made a promise to her. To release her into your care would be a breach of such a promise. I ask you to respect that." Despite his words, what he really wanted to say was, 'You didn't offer your hand to her when she needed you when either of us needed you. I'm not going to hand her over just because it would be convenient for you now. If I hand her over now, I'll never see her again, and you very well know that.' However, the young thief didn't say this, just offered a tip of the hat to dismiss himself and beckoned Anita. "If you'll excuse us Sisters, we have a park to go to." Sister Wendy grabbed her, not hard, just enough to stun him.
"Understand we're looking out for her best interest, Raphael." Her words were of proper concern, but Raphael maintained his façade.
"I'm sure you are, Sister. But so am I., And by the word of God if you ever touch her, I will not hesitate to respond."
Anita took Raphael's hand, waving at the nuns, they continued down the street.
"I heard," she informed. "That offer again?"
Raphael nodded.
"You said no, right?" Anita asked.
Raphael nodded again. "I know you don't want to go there, Anita. I'll take care of you, just remember to stay away from the gates."
"I will. And you better take care of me. Or I'll start rebelling, be very improper. I'll start stealing and get caught. I'll kidnap people, I'll start fights."
"You'd make quite the rebel, Anita."
"I know."
She released his hand and started flying down the path again.
Raphael sighed as he looked back to the sky, resting his hands on the back of his head to cradle it. He was taking in the fresh air when he was distracted by a sound. It was violin music.
He stopped and scanned the sky to investigate.
Anita halted when he did. "Raphael?"
Raphael held up a hand for her to listen, she did. "Sounds jazzy."
"Indeed…" Raphael was distracted as he searched the windows of buildings across the road until he turned to the grounds of the church and saw the swaying golden locks of the back of someone's head. A girl was playing her violin by her window. Flawlessly.
There was a moment of silence, followed by a delicate violin version of Ave Maria. It trickled out of the window, and the young thief thought his heart would melt. Raphael smiled, closing his eyes to focus on such a classical song. "Lovely."
Anita agreed but wanted to go to the park. She nudged him. "I know you love music, chief, but you can listen to your little gramophone thing when we get home. Maybe the radio will have something, but please let's just go to the park." She was tugging on him by the sleeve of his arm.
"Oh, but Anita! It's Ave Maria. How can you not just stop to listen?" Raphael teased, leaning his elbow on Anita's head. Anita continued to complain. Raphael complied, moving with Anita, but his eyes stayed on the girl who was playing in the window, and his ears focused on the melody until they were on the next street.
*
Raphael sat under a tree, running his fingers through the straw-like grass as he watched Anita, who was still climbing the tall tree above him. Eventually, his attention went to the stream that ran through the park. He reached forwards and placed his hand in the cold water, barely seeing the blurry fragments of his reflection. Rufus nudged his nose under Raphael's arm to look at his reflection, his nose touching the water and causing him to sneeze.
The thief's reflection disappeared amongst the chaos.
Anita dropped down from the tree branch and laid down next to Raphael, taking off his hat and fiddling with it. "So, what's our next move?"
"Nothing for a while, Anita. I think that the Inspector needs some time to himself." Raphael reclaimed his hat and placed it back on his head.
"What about your Dad's coin? Have you made any progress on that yet?" Anita asked, "Can I look at it again?"
Raphael smiled, searching his waistcoat pocket for a coin. Raphael may scarcely be an adult, but he had been on his own for three years after his Father left, leaving nothing behind other than a strange coin and such lonely words, "I can't tell you where I'm going, Raphael, only that I won't come back."
The young thief was momentarily dazed. It had been so long since he had thought about his Father that he could barely recall the details of his face, unable to remember if his eyes were brown like his own or hazel. He held the coin in the palm of his hand, tracing the strange inscription with his thumb before passing it over to Anita. It was all his Father had left behind.
"Do you still think this is the best way to find him?" Anita asked, running her small thumbs over the image of a beetle. Its wings and legs were extended, as if in flight. The coin was proper gold, one of a kind and not noted in any other artwork she or Raphael had seen.
Raphael winked and nodded, "Of course. Father was always an art fanatic. It would be just like him to leave a puzzle like this. If he didn't want to be found, why would he leave that with me?" Raphael remembered his Father fondly, for the most part. He was an earnest man, very dedicated to his work in art. But whenever he came down from his studio in the attic, he would dedicate his time to Raphael.
"Your father sounds like a strange man, Ralphie," Anita commented. She had looked this coin back to front dozens of times since living with Raphael, could draw it from memory and tell anyone its exact size and weight She flicked the coin back at him, watching as he did a couple of tricks before re-pocketing it. "I still haven't found anything on it." Her attention went back to his hat.
"How hasn't anyone figured out who you are when you wear practically the same thing as when you thieve?" Anita pondered, flipping the fedora between her fingers.
Raphael shrugged. "While distinctive, it also blends. No one seems to take any notice of a well-dressed gentleman."
"Unless you're stealing a priceless painting that you later just burn in the fireplace," Anita said with a monotoned expression.
Raphael rolled his eyes. "Princess, why don't you play with the other kids?" he asked, sitting up and looking across the park. It was a weekend, and kids were out of school walking their dogs and strolling by with their families. Some were playing kickball, and others had tea parties with toys on vibrant picnic tables.
Anita grimaced at the thought of playing with some of the other kids. "Not my type, Raphael. I would much rather keep to myself."
"I would much rather you make friends. Have tea parties, share toys, go on play dates and such. Be socially healthy."
"I counter with the same argument for you," Anita replied.
He raised an eyebrow. "Tea parties, toy sharing and play dates?"
The little girl shrugged. "Why not? If it's good enough for me, why not you?" She took back his hat and rested it on her face. "Kids my age aren't very bright."
Raphael stood up and stretched, "You do need to try, Anita."
She rolled onto her stomach, feeling somewhat grouchy. "What about you, though?"
"I don't need to worry. I'm effortlessly charismatic," Raphael argued, taking back his hat. A pair of police officers were strolling by, despite being on regular patrols and under no duress, one had a hand rested on his baton as he walked, scanning the park for potential delinquents.
Raphael turned the hat on an angle and leaned against the tree, masking any notable features and appearing quite relaxed. Anita didn't give them much notice, having never committed any crimes herself where her face had ever been seen, there wasn't any possible chance any authoritative figure had seen her face. The young thief didn't move until the police were further down the path.
"No one seems to notice a well-dressed gentleman," Anita repeated, pushing herself up. "You failed to mention subtle disguise gestures."
He tilted his hat back up, chuckling. "Well, good looks can only get you so far," he quickly messed up Anita's hair before pocketing his hands and walking to the path. "I think it's about time we head home."
Anita pushed herself to her feet and followed, holding Raphael's hand when she caught up. "So, do you want to go after the painting at Her Majesty's Opera House or Her Majesty's Palace?"
"Oh, they're both such tempting options," Raphael stated.
He explained how it wasn't safe for them to go after a painting now. Inspector Riley would be on high alert. "Besides, as I said, we need to return it first."
"When will we do that?" Anita asked.
Raphael glanced at his watch and shrugged. "Perhaps at the end of the day. The faster we do that, the faster things may calm down." Despite his words, Raphael knew his reputations per newspapers and people. His nickname was simply Thief. Some called him the Thief King. Others referred to him as Sticky-fingered Artist, his favourites calling him a Phantom. A part of him always enjoyed reading the day after events in the papers or hearing it on the radio. It amused him what people thought about him.
Yet none had ever found his name.
Nor made a ketch of his face.
His favourite headline was; ART THIEF'S BACK TO FRONT CONCEPT OF STEALING.
He often pondered whether that sentence contradicted itself, but felt he was in no position to argue with journalists. "Shall we head home to make final preparations?"
Anita nodded, "That would be best."
The pair exited the park, Anita always finding the black metal fencing surrounding the park unsettling, ominous at times, since she always felt like she was exiting a graveyard.
*
Maria sighed, glancing back out the window and peering down to the sidewalk. The air was cooler outside.
She looked to her open violin case, noting a necklace sitting at the bottom of it. She pinched the golden chain and lifted it, holding it before her eyes. Hanging from the chain was a golden pendant with intricate details of a crest; a Royal Family Crest. On the opposite side appeared to be an inscription of a beetle ready to take flight.
She hadn't checked, but many had speculated the jewellery was solid gold. Often, she wouldn't wear such a necklace, but circumstances were different from when she was in her small town. She slipped the necklace over her head and placed her violin carefully in its case, examining her bow before doing the same.
She slid her violin case under her bed.
Before she walked out, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was smoothing out her dress, fixing up her golden hair and quickly tucking the necklace under the front of her dress. The cool metal was cold against her skin, sending shivers across her body until it warmed up. A lock of hair escaped from behind her ear, prompting her to tuck it behind her ear a few times before it obeyed. Happy with how she looked, she turned and ran out of her room to have tea.