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I really loved this girl.
Pulling a parasol from behind her back, she held it out to me. ‘Want to do the honours?’
Really, really, really loved her.
‘Nothing would please me more.’
I snatched up the parasol. Focusing my gaze on my hapless victim, I raised the deadly weapon above my head.
‘You…you…you….’
‘Son of a bachelor?’ Adaira suggested. ‘Foozler? Flapdoodle?’
‘…you have known me for over a year now! How could you do this? How could you ever think this is what I want? What I need?’
‘Oh. Pardon. I thought you were aiming for an insult. Don’t let me interrupt.’
Dragging in a deep breath, I stabbed the parasol downwards. The old top hat flew away into the distance. And so did the head. ‘Take that!’
‘Good one! Now get him in the gizzard!’
‘And that! And that! Ha! Got anything to say to that? No, of course you don’t, because you never ever talk! And when you do you don’t - talk - sense!’
‘Ha! Right through the middle! Keep going, girl! Keep going, you’re nearly done!’
‘There! And there! Take that you…you…foozler!’
‘You’re welcome.’
The snow man Ambrose - unsurprisingly - was proving remarkably stubborn. But he was only hanging on by a thread. Panting, I raised the parasol for one final blow. ‘Take that, you…you…flapdoodle!’
The parasol came down. Snow exploded in a silver-white cloud all around me. Adaira let out a burst of laughter, dancing in the glittering confetti. I joined in, and soon we were both dancing around in the snow, laughing like little girls. Good God, this had been fun! This had been just what I needed.
When my laughter had subsided enough for me to speak, I demanded: ‘What…what in God’s name is a flapdoodle?’
Adaira gave another giggle. ‘How should I know? The coachmen don’t often explain their language to young ladies.’
‘A pity.’ I wound my tongue around the word. ‘Flapdoodle…I kind of like the sound of it. I’ll have to find out.’
‘I can save you the trouble, Miss Linton,’ came a very familiar cold voice from behind me. We froze. ‘That particular expression describes a man whose reproductive organs are no longer in working order.’
Oh crap…
All is Fair in Love and Carrots
Adaira cocked her head, looking down at the remnants of the snowman Ambrose in front of us. ‘We really did do a great job, didn’t we? It even talks.’
‘I,’ Mr Ambrose said from behind us, his voice a few degrees colder, ‘am not amused.’[17]
The words made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and travelled down my spine like fingers of velvet frost. I swallowed. Slowly, I turned to face him. There he stood, as tall and indomitable as ever.
Keep it together, Lilly! Keep it together!
‘What are you doing here, Miss Linton? What is the meaning of all this snow?’
He knows. He already knows. But he wants me to say it.
I racked my brain for a rational, sensible, adult explanation of why we were here. Since there apparently wasn’t one, I gave up and went with the truth.
