fetched Rye a cold beer. “I couldn’t remember what sort you mentioned that
you like. They all look the same to me. The man in the store suggested this
brand.”
“Wow. This is great. Thanks.”
Flora smiled as she sipped her glass of wine. “I thought you had night class?”
“The school had a power cut,” Rye said. “So, I thought – Can you smell burning?”
“Branch!” Flora leaped to her feet and dashed into the kitchen.
Rye followed. Smoke hazed the room. Flora stood holding a pot which oozed black
smoke.
“I suppose it will have to be Lowood’s takeaway for tea again,” Flora said. “Or
my usual table at the Ravenous Acorn.”
Rye took the pot from Flora and ran cold water into it. The charred lump in the
bottom hissed.
“What was this?” Rye asked.
“A highly nutritious and appetising meal that any idiot could prepare by simply
heating it in water for seven minutes. I suppose that makes me a special kind of
idiot.”
Rye smiled and set the incinerated remains aside. “Where do you keep your food?”
“That is the pantry. You don’t have to heat my dinner for me.”
“I have no intention of doing that.” Rye pulled open both doors to reveal a vast
walk-in pantry. “Wow. You could lose a whole family back here and still have
room for the preserves.”
Barely a tenth of the storage space was occupied. She found some thrush’s eggs
that smelled reasonably fresh.
“There’s not much in there,” Flora said. “You probably guessed that I don’t
often try to feed myself. For fear of lowering your opinion of me, I’m not only
hopeless with food but also extremely careless. If something stays in there long
enough to grow legs and crawl out, it’s welcome to its freedom.”
Rye smiled. “Do you like omelettes?”
Flora watched with undisguised amazement as Rye chopped, grated, and whisked.
Her surprise deepened when she tasted the result.
“Hmm,” Flora said. “That’s really good. Really, really good. You know, Rye
Woods, you constantly take me by surprise. Which not many people do.”
Rye smiled to herself as she wiped down the counter. This was a great kitchen.
“I feel really guilty about having you cook for me and then making you watch me
eat,” Flora said. “Won’t you have something?”
“I’ll make dinner for me and Holls when I get home. But anyone who buys me
Midnight Beer has a right to ask for more than an omelette. Where do you keep
your detergent?”
“Leave that. You are not doing the dishes. Aloe will do them in the morning.”
“Aloe?”
“My housecleaner. I suppose if I had a particle of sense I’d hire a cook as
well.”
Rye trailed Flora into the lounge. She should not have been surprised that Flora
could afford to pay someone to do her household chores for her.
Flora sat close, with her legs drawn up beneath her. “How long can you stay?”
“I usually get home just after eight. I’m not sure what time the transit carpet
will get back, so I’d better not leave it too late.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you. When are you going to get a new broom? It must
be wildly inconvenient without one.”
Rye shrugged. “Tell me what you wove today.”
Flora smiled and began talking about her day.
At some point, Rye finished her beer and started a second. Smooth, dark, and
malty, it was about the best beer she’d ever tasted. Flora had carried her jar
of wine into the lounge and was well on the way to finishing it. Flora’s company
and the beer softened the Infinity space around Rye in a very pleasant way.
Coming here was the smartest idea she’d had in years.
“Oh,” Flora said, “if you’ve come from work, does that mean you have a bangy
thing with you?”
“Bangy thing?”
“You know. For hitting things that stop working properly. One of the shelves in
my workroom is loose. If I bribed you with another beer, would you save me from
having to deal with a tradesman who will call me girlie?”
Rye smiled and went to get her
you like. They all look the same to me. The man in the store suggested this
brand.”
“Wow. This is great. Thanks.”
Flora smiled as she sipped her glass of wine. “I thought you had night class?”
“The school had a power cut,” Rye said. “So, I thought – Can you smell burning?”
“Branch!” Flora leaped to her feet and dashed into the kitchen.
Rye followed. Smoke hazed the room. Flora stood holding a pot which oozed black
smoke.
“I suppose it will have to be Lowood’s takeaway for tea again,” Flora said. “Or
my usual table at the Ravenous Acorn.”
Rye took the pot from Flora and ran cold water into it. The charred lump in the
bottom hissed.
“What was this?” Rye asked.
“A highly nutritious and appetising meal that any idiot could prepare by simply
heating it in water for seven minutes. I suppose that makes me a special kind of
idiot.”
Rye smiled and set the incinerated remains aside. “Where do you keep your food?”
“That is the pantry. You don’t have to heat my dinner for me.”
“I have no intention of doing that.” Rye pulled open both doors to reveal a vast
walk-in pantry. “Wow. You could lose a whole family back here and still have
room for the preserves.”
Barely a tenth of the storage space was occupied. She found some thrush’s eggs
that smelled reasonably fresh.
“There’s not much in there,” Flora said. “You probably guessed that I don’t
often try to feed myself. For fear of lowering your opinion of me, I’m not only
hopeless with food but also extremely careless. If something stays in there long
enough to grow legs and crawl out, it’s welcome to its freedom.”
Rye smiled. “Do you like omelettes?”
Flora watched with undisguised amazement as Rye chopped, grated, and whisked.
Her surprise deepened when she tasted the result.
“Hmm,” Flora said. “That’s really good. Really, really good. You know, Rye
Woods, you constantly take me by surprise. Which not many people do.”
Rye smiled to herself as she wiped down the counter. This was a great kitchen.
“I feel really guilty about having you cook for me and then making you watch me
eat,” Flora said. “Won’t you have something?”
“I’ll make dinner for me and Holls when I get home. But anyone who buys me
Midnight Beer has a right to ask for more than an omelette. Where do you keep
your detergent?”
“Leave that. You are not doing the dishes. Aloe will do them in the morning.”
“Aloe?”
“My housecleaner. I suppose if I had a particle of sense I’d hire a cook as
well.”
Rye trailed Flora into the lounge. She should not have been surprised that Flora
could afford to pay someone to do her household chores for her.
Flora sat close, with her legs drawn up beneath her. “How long can you stay?”
“I usually get home just after eight. I’m not sure what time the transit carpet
will get back, so I’d better not leave it too late.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you. When are you going to get a new broom? It must
be wildly inconvenient without one.”
Rye shrugged. “Tell me what you wove today.”
Flora smiled and began talking about her day.
At some point, Rye finished her beer and started a second. Smooth, dark, and
malty, it was about the best beer she’d ever tasted. Flora had carried her jar
of wine into the lounge and was well on the way to finishing it. Flora’s company
and the beer softened the Infinity space around Rye in a very pleasant way.
Coming here was the smartest idea she’d had in years.
“Oh,” Flora said, “if you’ve come from work, does that mean you have a bangy
thing with you?”
“Bangy thing?”
“You know. For hitting things that stop working properly. One of the shelves in
my workroom is loose. If I bribed you with another beer, would you save me from
having to deal with a tradesman who will call me girlie?”
Rye smiled and went to get her
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