AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We could send Friday off to the Swindon Home for Dreary Teenagers,” added Landen.
“And Jenny could have a new piano.”
It was too much for Pickwick, who fainted dead away in the middle of the table.
“Doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, does she?” said Landen with a smile, returning to his paper.
“Not really,” I replied, tearing up the letter from the Swindon Dodo Fanciers Society. “But, you know, for a bird of incalculably little brain, I’m sure she understands almost everything we say.”
Landen looked at Pickwick, who had by now recovered and was staring suspiciously at her left foot, wondering if it had always been there and, if not, what it might be doing creeping up on her.
“It’s not likely.”
“How’s the book going?” I asked, returning to my knitting.
“The self-help stuff?”
“The magnum opus.”
Landen looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “More opus than magnum. I’m trying to figure out whether the lack of progress is writer’s block, procrastination, idleness or just plain incompetence.”
“Well, now,” I said, feigning seriousness, “with such an excellent range of choices, it’s hard to put my finger on it. Have you considered that it might be a mixture of all four?”
“By gad!” he said, slapping his palm on his forehead. “You could be right!”
“Seriously, though?”
He shrugged. “It’s so-so. Although the story is toodling along, there’s no real bite to it—I think I need to inject a new plot twist or character.”
“Which book are you working on?”
“Bananas for Edward.”
“You’ll think of something, sweetheart—you usually do.”
I dropped a stitch on my knitting, rehooked it, checked the wall clock and then said, “Mum texted me earlier.”
“Has she got the hang of it yet?”
“She said, ‘L&Ks4DnRNXT-SNDY??’”
“Hmm,” said Landen, “one of the most coherent yet. That’s probably code for ‘I’ve forgotten how to text.’ Why does she even bother to try to use new technology at her age?”
“You know what she’s like. I’ll nip over and see what she wants on my way to work.”
“Don’t forget about Friday and the ChronoGuard ‘If You’ve Got Time for Us, We’ve Got Time for You’ careers presentation this evening.”
“How could I forget?” I replied, having tried to cajole Friday into this for weeks.
“He’s behind with his homework,” added Landen, “and since you’re at least six times more scary than I am, would you do phase one of the teenager-waking procedure? Sometimes I think he’s actually glued to the bed.”
“Considering his current level of personal hygiene,” I mused, “you’re probably right.”
“If he doesn’t get up,” added Landen with a smile, “you could always threaten him with a bar of soap and some shampoo.”
“And traumatize the poor lad? Shame on you, Mr. Parke-Laine.”
Landen laughed, and I went up to Friday’s room.
