Myrtle walked up and down in her bedroom. She could not believe the nerve of the servant girl, Milla.
"I told Mishka long ago that she should not make friends with the servants! But no, she always knows better. She carried on making the girl her friend and maybe even her confidant.
Now the girl is strutting around calling herself a filmmaker. What does she think of herself?" Myrtle ranted and raved, talking to herself.
Her shoulder-length, silver-grey hair was standing wild from the way that she had ruffled it.
"I should talk to Mishka and her father about this at dinner," Myrtle continued.
She got dressed into a formal blue dress and rang the bell for service.
At least, with my hair in order I will feel like my old self again. More in control of what's going on around me," she mumbled to herself as she went to sit down on a chair in front of the mirror.
"Pretty soon more and more staff members will want to be friends with Mishka, the new mistress of the house," Myrtle muttered between snorts.
"Come in!" Myrtle called when there was a knock on the door. She knew it was Clara. Only Clara knew how to address her properly and not chat without end about all kinds of matters which did not interest Myrtle. Clara knew how to do her hair in exactly the way that Myrtle had worn it for the past forty years. She also followed instructions without wasting time.
Clara learned from Myrtle's original personal maid and she did not miss any details of the training, back then.
"Put on some music to change my mood before you style my hair, Clara," Myrtle ordered as Clara entered the spacious bedroom.
"No problem," Clara responded. She walked over to the music centre and pushed a few buttons for Myrtle's favourite music to come on. Myrtle never remembered where she put the remote control device lately, so Clara never even bothered to search for it when Myrtle was in a hurry to go somewhere.
Dinner at home was just as urgent as an invitation to lunch, in Myrtle's case.
"Ah, that's so much better," Myrtle commented in a calm and pleasant tone of voice. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and lifted her hair with her fingertips.
"Maybe we should make it a little bit darker," she suggested as she turned her head from side to side.
"Why do you want it darker? It looks interesting this way," Clara responded. She did not hesitate to give Myrtle her opinion. That's what Myrtle liked about her. She did not tell lies, just to please Myrtle, like the other staff members did.
"I think it will have more depth and shine if we coloured it a bit darker over the weekend. I have a special function to attend on Saturday night and I want to look a bit more like my old self," Myrtle announced.
"Then I suggest that we go to a wig shop where you can first fit on a wig of that colour and see if you're happy with it," Clara suggested as she began to comb out Myrtle's tangles.
"I have to impress this society that Rose belongs to. She did not elaborate, but I'm sure that they're local werewolves," Myrtle murmured to herself.
Clara knew better than to interrupt her when Myrtle seemed to be rambling. She merely continued to style the old lady's hair with her nimble fingers.
"Can you believe they still have wolves in this neighbourhood? I would have thought that they were all wiped out or driven away by now," Myrtle continued. She knew that Clara would not discuss anything which was said in this room with anyone else. She had her own troubles to think about.
"Can you believe that Rose and I were helping people together with our craft and skills for years? It took her ages to confide in me and tell me about this wolf society that she belongs to also.
Well, since her son disappeared she has not gone out a lot. But, now she seems to want to become actively involved again. Would you believe it? She contacted me this evening with her invitation?" Myrtle continued in a low, but animated tone of voice.
"That should be an interesting evening because Miss Rose always knew how to throw a good party," Clara commented just to keep Myrtle talking calmly and peacefully.
"Oh, but this is going to be at a hall or some mansion somewhere, I think. Not at Rose's place. She will still tell me where.
There will be some interesting personalities there, I'm sure. I might even discover who the undercover wolves are," Myrtle commented with an excited twinkle in her eyes, as she smiled.
"There you are then," Clara announced. She placed the brush and pins back onto the dressing table. She had put Myrtle's hair up with a few tendrils dangling down the side of her face because Myrtle still loved having an edge to her appearance.
"It looks as if I've just stepped out of a salon. You should really not even think of finding a job elsewhere," Mishka joked with a chuckle. Clara was used to Myrtle's changes in mood, so she seldom took anything that Myrtle said seriously.
"Should I put the music off?" Clara asked as she walked away from Myrtle. The room was filled with pleasant, soft classical music.
"Oh, leave it on so that it's still playing when I come back upstairs," Myrtle responded.
Clara then left the room with the door open so that Myrtle could just go straight out of her bedroom after her. Myrtle was almost late for dinner, so she had to go downstairs right away.
"What noisy singing is that? Can it be the radio?" Myrtle asked herself when she reached the bottom of the stairs.
She carried on towards the dining room anyway.
"Oh, is Mishka not here yet? It's so late," she commented when she saw her son sitting at the table by himself.
"Oh, apparently she already had an early supper with a friend on her way from work," Angus, Mishka's father replied without looking away from his phone.
"She's missing dinner and going out a lot these days," Myrtle responded with her mouth corners turned down in disapproval.
"Well, we can't forget that she's young and needs her own company," Angus remarked in response.
"She's involved in dance classes as well. So, isn't she back yet? She could at least keep us company," Myrtle complained as she began to lift the lids of a few casserole dishes on the table to see what they contained.
"No, I haven't seen her yet," Angus responded as he put his phone down and began to dish up for himself.
"She should show more interest in the family than just the business part of it. It's almost as if she doesn't want to be here," Myrtle muttered as she began to help herself to some meat.
"You know that Mishka is still not happy about the fact that you don't want her to pray at the dinner table anymore. So, she might actually be happy to eat by herself or with other people these days," Angus remarked as he began to eat.
"Well, I have explained that one should live according to one's word. Why does anyone want to be religious but at the same time they perform strange, ungodly dances which they even show on stage?" Myrtle asked as she began to munch on her meat.
"You keep saying that. She's only doing modern dances. There's nothing strange about that," Angus responded, shaking his head at his mother's opinion.
"Oh, now I hear the singing even more clearly. Who's making that noise?" Myrtle asked after a few moments of just focusing on her food.
"It's Mishka who is singing ma'am," Milla responded as she walked into the dining room.
"Is there anything extra that you need?" she asked.
"So, Mishka is here?" Myrtle asked with big, startled eyes. "Then why isn't she at least sitting with us if she's already eaten?" she asked in disbelief.
"Oh, she had lots to eat tonight. Farm food, I think," Milla responded. "And now she's doing voice training," she added in a formal tone.
"So, she's been to a farm? Wasn't it Gillian's home?" Angus asked as he looked up from his plate briefly.
"I'm really not sure," Milla replied from where she stood with her hands folded politely as she waited for her orders.
"But the two of you are spending so much time together. How did she not confide in you?" Myrtle asked with her grey eyebrows raised as she looked at Milla accusatively.
"She's actually mainly focussing on singing tonight," Milla responded as she kept her gaze on the table.
"She's really singing loudly. Why so much noise?" Myrtle asked.
"Good evening everyone," Mishka greeted from the doorway. She smiled brightly as she walked into the dining room.
"Oh, good evening dear. Nice to see you at home for a change," Angus responded with a pleasant grin which lit up his eyes. He was glad for a chance of relief from his mother's dry comments.
"Oh, I had a few projects to complete," Mishka replied as she walked around the table.
"Like your music? Why are you not practicing in the studio? Then it's not so noisy," Myrtle remarked with a disapproving frown on her brow.
"No, I actually wanted to sing out in the open for fresh air and inspiration," Mishka responded as she took a seat next to her father and poured herself some wine. She clearly did not want to sit next to Myrtle tonight.
"It's healthy to sing in the fresh air," Angus agreed as he returned his attention to his food.
"I understand that you're singing in the woods again. Isn't that unsafe?" Myrtle asked without lifting her eyes from her plate.
"Oh, where did you hear that?" Mishka asked with a puzzled frown on her brow.
"I have some contacts who informed me," Myrtle responded with a quick glance at Mishka.
"Well, then they must have also told you that they want to make me an offer for a music recording contract," Mishka joked with a quick glance in Milla's direction.
"May I be excused?" Milla asked as she looked from one person to the next for approval. She was not going to laugh at Mishka's joke in front of Myrtle.
"Oh, you can come back in half an hour," Myrtle responded.
"How would you like to go out to a special function with me on Saturday?" Myrtle asked. "I promise you that the company will be interesting as well as mixed. There will be modern, young people there as well?" she continued as she shot a curious glance at Mishka.
"I can just as well introduce her to some wolves there and she can learn about the deeper side of life," Myrtle told herself as she waited for Mishka's response.