Despair of an imaginary presence

      Is this a dream? Strangely draughty, viscous, a little cold, dark, unknown. So enveloping, vague, calm, forgotten. A forgotten… dream?       Firm mattress, heavy blanket, nice hugging and pressing into the bed, big soft pillows. Cotton linens, the smell of freshly washed fabric. A small, thin leaf hit the glass and stuck to it. Fresh gusts of wind, slightly swaying curtains through the cracks in the window. A gentle and pleasant yellowish sunlight, now and then ran across the room when the curtain was briefly flung aside.       Gathering her things, saying goodbye to her friends, the tiring journey, the feeling of something unpleasantly new. A booking mistake, a car breaking down, rain. Despair, the desire to go to a warm, so distant parental home. Hope for a miracle, fighting with herself, asking a stranger for help, fear and… a dream? It wasn’t a dream.       Nemi pulled herself up on the bed. She rubbed her face with her hand and walked her gaze around the room. 9:37 am. There was still time. A large bed, a large dark wood wardrobe, a large chest of drawers, a large worn bedside table, a large white lamp, a large chandelier, large windows, a large desk, a large brown armchair and small-small, almost tiny Nemi, alone in such a large house and an even larger unfamiliar, foreign city.       Is it really not a dream? Nemi stood up and walked over to a chair, on which lay a small bag that wasn’t too bad to get soaked in the downpour. She pulled out her clothes and changed into her own, dear clothes. The borrowed clothes she folded and left on the bed. It needed to be washed, but where? Should she ask for help again?       Nemi walked towards the door but suddenly froze as she touched the doorknob. What to do? Go downstairs and just say good morning? Wait for someone to come upstairs to check on her? The ground floor was silent, the only sign of life was the smell of food, delicious smelling food. The smell reminded Nemi of hunger, for she hadn’t eaten normally in almost twenty-four hours. She should have at least thanked them again for their hospitality. Yes, she needs to find Einar and say thank you again.       Descending to the first floor, Nemi spotted Atala standing in front of the stove. She was standing with her back to Nemi, frying something. On the tabletop was a plate with a tower of pancakes on it. Nemi looked around, trying to find Einar, but he didn’t seem to be around.       “Good morning,” Nemi said after pulling herself together as she entered the kitchen. “Do you know where Einar is? I wanted to thank him again for his kindness. And you, too.”       “Good morning, Miss Nemi.” Atala glanced back to look at her guest and put the last pancake in the stack. She wiped her hands on her apron and took a seat in a high chair. “Mr Brandt had some urgent business to attend to. He asked him to excuse him and tell you to make yourself at home.”       Atala gestured to her plate.       “Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry. There is water in the kettle for coffee or tea. What will you have?”       “Tea, if I may.”       Atala smiled politely and nodded. Nemi sat down at the table and helped herself to some pancakes.       “Thank you, Atala.” Nemi gave a glance to the maid, who sat back in her chair.       She felt strange, being practically alone in someone else’s house, where food was literally served by the maid. It was without a doubt one of the craziest situations she had ever been in.       Atala smiled slightly at Nemi’s words and nodded. Seemingly waiting for the girl to finish before she took a plate from the table and cleaned it up. Meanwhile, Nemi was looking around Einar’s house.       Beautiful, elegant, graceful, richly furnished, but at the same time somehow hushed, empty, devoid of the human love and presence that is usually called domesticity. The house was like a museum as if it wasn’t even inhabited.       “Can you tell me about this place?”       “About the house?” Atala clarified, surprised at the question Nemi had asked. She looked at her with confusion but nodded as she began to speak, gesturing with her hand, trying to explain in the most interesting way possible. “Mr Brandt’s ancestors had belonged to the same noble family for generations. The style of this house is inspired by the French aristocracy of centuries ago. There are also many works of art and historical artefacts present,” she said, as if proud to have this house in her care.       “I see,” Nemi hushed, swallowing her food so as not to sound rude. “What kind of mansion is this? I didn’t notice buildings like that on the map when I was researching.”       Atala smiled slightly again, as if reading her thoughts. She looked at Nemi with kind eyes.       “You’re right, this isn’t just a random building. This is the “Rauana” winery.” She raised her hand slightly, pointing to the main hall. “This mansion and the winery itself is the greatest winery in all of Iparraldeco. Mr. Brandt is its heir.”       Nemi froze, looking very surprised, hardly believing Atala’s words. What was she getting herself into? Is she in the wrong place, at the wrong time? Mister? The heir to a winery? She looked out the window and only now that the sky was crystal clear did she notice the vines growing everywhere.       “Mr Brandt and his family have been running this winery for a long time now and they produce the best wine in the world. Subjectively, of course,” she smiled. “It seems his grandfather and great-grandfather were also in the wine industry. It’s a family affair, so to speak…” Atala’s words come out in a white noise. “Though that doesn’t say anything about his personality.”       On the other hand, perhaps being here on the first day in Iparraldeco isn’t the worst possible arrangement. Connections are just about the most useful thing a person can possess. Securing the favour of an heir can open many doors for Nemi.       Atala watched Nemi with a friendly smile, her words making her feel that she was a part of a vast and very important world of people much larger and more influential than herself. She continued talking, trying to be a good hostess to the girl.       “Do you have any other questions you would like to ask me?” Atala questioned, looking at Nemi with curiosity but also warmth. Her voice was honeyed and tinkling, the tone of an experienced teacher, full of sympathy. It felt as if one could ask her any question and she would have the answer. Perhaps she was what still gave the house a note of cosiness.       Nemi was still completely dazed and overwhelmed with information so focusing on anything in particular seemed impossible for her. The only thing that came to mind was a burning topic that needed to be dealt with quickly.       “Do you know of any places in Iparraldeco that I can stay at? I called the hotel again this morning, and they told me that they cancelled my reservation and don’t have any rooms available for the near future… So…”       The maid thought for a moment, trying to think of a solution to Nemi’s problems.       “Hmm…” she stared into the air and brought her fingers up to her chin, trying to think of a good answer. “I could offer you our guest room.”       “Oh, no, I can’t bother you and… Mr Brandt anymore.” Nemi surprised herself by calling Einar mister, but maybe that’s what she should have been doing all along?       Nemi didn’t want to ask, and such a thought didn’t even cross her mind, for she was preoccupied with something else entirely. Atala looked at her again with kind eyes and nodded. This was exactly the answer she had expected.       “I’ll say it again, but if you have nowhere to stay but this mansion — you should stay here. Besides…” she took a deep breath, as if about to say something very important to her, “…I’m glad to have company for a while.” A soft smile soaked with longing appeared on her face and slowly disappeared.       “That’s a very kind offer, but will Mr Brandt agree to it? I don’t want to be… an inconvenience.”       “Oh-oh… I’m sure he won’t mind. He’s not a frequent visitor himself. I’ll call him and ask. Give me a few minutes.”       Atala stepped aside, walking into the hall to call Einar. A few minutes later, she returned.       “Mr Brandt doesn’t mind.”       This took Nemi by surprise. If he had refused her, she would have felt less uncomfortable. These were incredibly kind people, and Nemi appreciated that, but life had taught her that all good things had a price.       “Here’s how… Okay. But then I’ll be paying the rent for the room. Please don’t refuse, it’s the least I can do. Besides, I got a refund on my hotel reservation.”       “Oh, Miss Nemi, don’t… If you feel obligated, I can ask you to take care of the mansion while you stay here. It’s not an easy job to keep such a large house clean and tidy. There are many places here that need care and attention. Cleaning, dusting, making the bed, washing the dishes… I will surely find something to keep you busy.”       This offer sounded a lot better than free accommodation.       “Sure, but I’ll still pay for the room, I’m more comfortable that way.”       “Whatever you say, Miss Nemi, I can see I can’t change your mind.”       “Thank you, Atala.”       The girl nodded gratefully and went up to her room. She moved her bag from the chair to the floor and sat down in it. Nemi looked up at the blue autumn sky, at the vines, at the gardener who seemed so little from the first floor. Fresh gusts of wind, slightly swaying curtains through the cracks in the window. A gentle and pleasant yellowish sunlight, now and then ran across the room when the curtain was briefly flung aside. Was it really not a dream? Strangely draughty, viscous, a little cold, dark, unknown. So enveloping, vague, calm. If it’s not a dream, why doesn’t it feel like she’s here?