Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“You call me such silly things,” she says, laughing . . . while trying to climb me. “You know I’m just Lulu.”
“There’s no such thing as just Lulu.” I bend to ruffle her hair, finding my fingers snagging in the wildness of it. “There’s Lulu, the great. Lulu, the magnificent—”
“And Lulu, the koala!” Pulling off her scarf and coat, she throws them somewhere behind her.
Is it weird that I’ve missed this little whirlwind?
“Lulu, get down,” her mother commands with the kind of effectiveness you’d imagine when I’m helping the kid travel the opposite direction as I slide my hand under her arm, lifting her onto my back.
“You can’t climb people,” her mother protests. A couple of steps and she’s in front of me. I suck in a deep breath of her scent as, her body almost flush with mine, she reaches over my shoulder. I twist, our bodies connecting, the kid out of reach.
“The lies we tell them, huh?” My lips ghost the delicate shell of her ear. “I bet we tell them they’re not supposed to lick people, too.” She probably thinks I don’t notice her shiver or the way her eyes flutter closed.
“Ew! Licking people is digsusting!” Lulu announces, her hands tightening around my neck as her mother stumbles back, all kinds of flushed and annoyed. Maybe as much at herself as with me.
“I’m, er, gonna get going, Miss Fee.”
I swing around at the voice. That’s right. Lulu wasn’t out alone.
“Oh, yes, thank you, Sophia,” Fee answers. “But wait. Let me give you a little pocket money.”
“No.” She holds up her hands. “Really, there’s no need. You paid for the smoothies, and we had fun hanging out, right, Lu?”
“Sophia let me catch a Pokémon, and we had cookies, too!” Lu’s announcement rattles my eardrum. I wince, Fee sending me a look as though to say, serves you right. “Uncle Car, did you know Sophia looks after me when Mommy goes out?”
“Well, hello, Sophia.” I mock a little bow in front of the girl who looks to be around eighteen. Eighteen and tongue-tied, maybe, as she hazards a little wave my way.
“Does Mommy go out very often?” I ask a little carelessly, bouncing the kid on my back, twisting her from her mother’s warning glare.
Wait, that look was probably for me.
“She went out last night, and she looked like a beautiful princess,” Lu replies. “Didn’t she, Soph?”
“Yeah,” the teenager replies a little bashfully. “You looked so pretty, Miss Fee.”
“Mommy?” Lulu pipes up. “Will you wear the silver dress when you go out with Mr Farrow?”
She flinches, her gaze slipping from mine. “I . . . I don’t think so. I’m just going to walk Sophia out.”
Goodbyes are said, and the pair leaves the room.
“Who is this Mr Farrow?” I ask, swinging Lulu around to my chest so we’re face-to-face.
“He’s one of my teachers. I’m making them go on a date.”
“You are, are you?” She nods happily, and I find myself sighing. “That’s . . . that’s too bad.”
“Why?” Taking my cheeks in her little hands, she stares at me quite solemnly. Those eyes. They don’t belong to a kid at all. “Do you love my mommy, Uncle Carson?”
I inhale a deep breath, and I don’t mean to part with the words, though I do.
“Yeah. I love your mommy. So do me a favour. Don’t set her up with any more Mr Farrows.”
24
Fee
“Ah!” I hear rather than see Carson smack his lips together on account of my being in the hallway outside of Lulu’s room. “Most enjoyable!”
Carson’s manner is ordinarily very cultured, but he seems to be laying it on really thick for Lulu's amusement. I’m not hanging out in the hall for no reason. I’m hiding, though the urge to bust in on them is so tempting. Fist against my mouth, I’ve listened in and chuckled as Carson has played the courtly jester to Lulu’s bossy queen.
“It was a delicious cup of tea, Princess Lulu.”
And now they’re having a tea party. How bloody precious!
“It’s not tea, silly,” she chastises. “It’s gin.”
I press my fist tighter to smother a snigger. Honestly, this isn’t my influence. If I was drinking hard liquor from a teacup, my first choice wouldn’t be gin.
“Gin?” he replies. “I thought I was invited to a tea party in the princess suite, not a gin joint.”
“Gin is what my granny drinks.”
“Well, if it’s good enough for granny, I guess it’s good enough for a tea party.”
“Gin party,” she corrects. “Granny says when you’re in need, a real friend will take your hand. Then put a glass of gin in it.”
“I think me and your granny would get along well.”
“You’d probably make her all giggly.” I can almost see her scrunching her nose. “She’d say ‘Carson Hayes is a fine thing’.”
My daughter does a decent impersonation of my mother. And I’d have to agree with her. Whether in a tux or running gear, or dressed for a few beers down the pub, Carson Hayes is a fyne thing, indeed.