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 Posted: Thu Apr 27, 2006 10:54 pm
Dusty Daydreams
This was insane. She was barely an adult herself, and not only did she have several adopted children, but now one that was her own flesh and blood. And scale. If she didn't know better she'd say the mother had gotten knocked up by a fish, but whether she had or not was moot by this point. They- herself, the mother, and the fishling- were all living in the same house. That much she had come to accept, after several months.
But... Bob?
DS looked at the crib and lost control of her mind again. She was an accepting person, wasn't she? It took a lot to bother her. Of course, she was as overprotective as any good parent, that part she was inflexible about. But she allowed anyone into her house, took care of kids born from papers and rocks and from different planets, had a hugely complex history herself, and was living out of wedlock with the mother of her child.
So why was it that the most annoying part of her life was a name? What's in a name? Shakespeare had said that. Probably. It was true, wasn't it?
That wasn't really what was bothering her. It had to be something else.
"It's not just the name," she reminded herself. "It's the concept of having a daughter by another woman- making me the father- of this child who is part fish, named Bob. Bob Bailey."
Almost as if her name had aroused her, a loud, piercing cry came from the cradle. It was lucky that DS was in the nursery at the time, still trying to get used to the idea of having one.
"What is it... dear?" The endearment slid off her tongue clumsily, with a squeak. A quick check labelled the cause of distress a dirty diaper. A good thing, because if Bob was hungry, she wouldn't have known what to do with Naita being asleep.
It was more difficult to change the diaper than expected. DS tried her best, but was tangled in a mess of legs and tails. "Hold still, you..."
Bob didn't listen. In fact, she just cried louder, flailing her limbs unhappily.
"It's okay, it's okay! I'm making things better, so please stop crying." No matter what, she couldn't bring herself to say the baby's name. She hadn't been able to after that first time. And even her quick movements with tossing the old diaper away hadn't helped at all.
"Maybe I could call her something else. A nickname." That idea soothed her own mind slightly. After all, nicknames were harmless...
"And from now on, your cousins are going to live with us." A woman with long turquoise hair had her hands on the shoulders of two prepubescent girls. The older one, a redhead that looked a lot like the eldest of the children she was being presented to, curtsied. The younger one, with dark blue hair and shocking violet eyes, hurried to follow suit.
"You remember them, of course."
The eldest nodded calmly. His two younger siblings exchanged a glance. "I don't," the boy with green hair commented. "I do," the purple-haired girl said smugly, "but I don't remember their names."
"That's just as well," the woman replied. "We'll be changing them. Don't get me wrong," she added quickly, seeing the shock and dismay in her new charges' eyes. "They're lovely names, but they don't fit with our town, and other people may get suspicious."
The redhead glared. "We like our names. Mama and Papa named us." Too shy to comment on her own, the younger girl nodded in agreement, clinging closely to her sister.
"And no one said that they weren't wonderful names, darlings. But children in our family are named a certain way. Your Papa chose not to follow that, which is all well and good, but you'll need different names here. Your old names can be special, secret names."
Neither girl got a chance to argue. "Now then, Letiniya... since you like to talk, you'll be Litany. Litany Millner has such a ring to it. And the little girl has such light in her! She'll be Divinity."
"We like our names," the older girl repeated stubborny.
"Good. Litany and Divinity Satourne Millner. They suit you well."
Of course, Bob wouldn't even remember a name change, if one occured. But Bob's mother- her birth mother, her real mother- had given her that name. Changing it was tantamount to saying that the love that went into giving it didn't mean a thing.
"Fine," she muttured, looking down. Somehow the diapers had worked their way around Bob's bottom, encasing it in fluffy clean white. The child had calmed down significantly, but was holding onto DS's finger.
"Fine, Bob."
Bob let go of the finger and wiggled on her newly diapered bum.
"Fine, Bob dear. You win. And you know, it may suit you yet."
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Posted: Thu Apr 27, 2006 11:35 pm
One for the Record Books
DS had been dealing with children for quite some time. The ones that were in her care came from fantastical origins; some came from inanimate objects like rocks or books, others from other planets or dimentions. Some chose her, with others, she did the choosing. One universal fact was that none of them had much in the way of history or documentation. And while DS did the best she could, putting photos and other mementos in a large scrapbook, there was little that could be done to salvage the past.
Bob was different. In her case, DS knew, more or less, where she came from. She could be fairly sure that there were no traumatic events or past lives to deal with. In fact, the only traumatic event had been coming to terms with the girl's birth. And having been present when Bob was born, DS could state for a fact that she did not come from an inanimate object or another world (though it would have been easier on Naita, and her by relation, if that had been the case).
And for the first time, DS had documents to file. Birth certificates. Hospital records. Name records, even if she half wanted to shred those. Bob was a child with history, and DS was going to do everything she could to preserve that.
The first step was getting the precious documents away from Naita. Asking for them would have led to confrontation, which was never good. So DS simply found them, and removed them from the woman's room when the occupant was out. Though pangs of guilt she reminded herself that it was her house, after all. A few measly papers were nothing to compare with free room and board. And they would be put to better use in her hands.
With those in hand she rushed downstairs to her den, which she was seldom seen in anymore. Part of the reason that was the case was the fact that the den had become a sort of storage room. When DS entered she had to push aside a mountain of old periodicals and a trio of broken phones just to get to her desk, which was laden with unread mail and a few bookeeping documents that needed her attention. They would have to wait to get it.
With great gusto DS plonked a blue baby book on top of the papers. It was nice, a simple cloth-covered book in a shade of cadet blue with a few white swirls, that was gifted to the "happy couple," though by who DS couldn't recall. In the long run it didn't matter, since the gift was going to be put to use.
There was a section in the front for basic personal information. DS started there, stuffing the rest of the documents in a handy built-in envelope in the back of the book. "Let's see," she mumbled, picking up a pen. "Name... Bob Bailey Satourne." Each name was written with a wince. "Date of birth, August Twentieth. Parents, Naita... Naita, and Divinity Satourne."
DS blinked. Why did she sign that name? Why had she signed it on the birth certificate? It was accurate enough, but also a dead giveaway for people looking for her. Still, it was unlikely even they would try searching birth records under "father." Dismissing the thought with some lingering apprehension, DS moved on and filled out the rest of the first page.
At the top there was room for a photo. And after a good deal of time considering candidates, DS chose a more recent one to go in the slot. It had Bob in her favorite attire- nothing- asleep on her favorite armchair, snuggling next to a large fox stuffed animal.
Blinking again, DS held the book up to the light. Bob didn't have any toys like that last time she checked. And upon further thought, DS realized that there hadn't been any toys on the couch when the picture was being taken. Yet Bob was clearly right next to the mysterious animal.
That realization was like a lightbulb going off in DS's head. Seconds later it shut off, giving the woman's eyes a vacant look. She didn't move, nor did she hear the words that echoed in the crowded room.
An interesting turn of events. It seems she was not ther only one blessed after all.
DS did not remember finishing the baby book, nor anything else when she woke up with it the next morning, grocery recipts stuck to her cheek. After a few frenzied shrieks it was placed on the bookshelf, where it would be forgotten for some time.
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Posted: Thu Apr 27, 2006 11:36 pm
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Posted: Thu Apr 27, 2006 11:41 pm
Winter Picnic
DS was spending a rare moment out of the kitchen. That day she had made a chocolate cake, oatmeal cookies, lasagna for dinner, and thick roast beef sandwiches for lunch. There was a pile of them on the kitchen counter, under a clean blue striped dishcloth. A couple of the kids were out, and the rest were occupying themselves with a snowball fight in the backyard. It didn't sound like the war would anytime soon, she noted while turning a page of her newspaper. But then, that gave her time to rest before putting milk to boil for hot chocolate.
"Hmmm, another day of trial," she muttered, flipping past the actual news to find her goal. "Aha! Let's see, one across... proverb?"
Eyes bleary from a sleepless night, Naita half-walked, half-tumbled down the stairs, Bob in arms, and learning to deal with the rather... bumpy rides her mother offered well. The babe was alert, but silent enough, save for a few grunts at the more precarious escapes. Surprisingly, it was not some uncouth party that had kept the woman up. It was a constant demand for feeding from her scaley, fin-bound daughter. Such lovely descriptions a night of sleeplessness bring about. As per usual, Naita's first stop on reaching the bottom floor was to hit the kitchen. Meer had been out and about for an hour already, having stuck a post-it note on her guardian's head to atest to this fact. A note which, in fact, still stood there.
DS looked up from her crossword, having filled in seven down. "There's sandwiches on the counter, and applesauce in the fridge." She wasn't entirely sure why she mentioned the applesauce, but perhaps the woman would want some anyway. Something cold was bound to wake her up. Yet again she offered silent thanks to the gods, eyes cast upwards, for not having borne the child herself. On top of everything else it would have been unbearable.
A moment or two passed before she grunted and rolled off the couch, leaving her puzzle behind. "Would you like me to hold her while you get food, or should I make you a plate?"
The question seemed an absurd one, as if there was a choice. Naita gratefully heaved the babe into Div's arms, before stuffing a sandwich into her mouth. Then, having half-swallowed the mouthful, she rounded on the woman. "Four times," she uttered, darkly, and thickly from around a piece of beef. "Four times she wanted feeding. Two nappy changes. ... AND SHE'S HEAVY!" She seemed as though she were about to burst into tears. Or eat half the kitchen. Either way, not a pretty sight.
SacredSaturn: "I know." Did she ever know! DS considered herself a patient woman- one would have to be to live with eight kids- but the constant complaining was becoming tiring. Just because Naita was up half the night, did she have to make DS feel the pain of a whiny baby too? Didn't one of them deserve a rest?
Perhaps not.
"We might be able to shift her to food soon. Creamed peas, applesauce, bananas, the like. If you really can't stand it I suppose we could try formula, but I don't trust those chemists..." She shifted Bob in her arms as she spoke, considering the baby with each word. One thing was true. She WAS heavy.
Formula? Powder? Oh no, no powder was going near her fishgirl. Maybe some trace of the pregnancy hormones remained, maybe the lack of sleep was getting to her, or maybe she had no sanity to start with, but Naita immediately snatched back the babe, cradling her as if the ideal mother. Well, the ideal mother with half a sandwich hanging out her mouth, a post-it note stuck to her head and no pants. Yes... ideal. Glowering, she snapped, or attempted to around the breaded treat; "No one gives my daughter baby-drugs!" For an alcoholic, she sure was picky.
Rather than roll her eyes, DS took the opportunity to grab a sandwich for herself. "I agree. But that means you have to bear with it for a little while longer, until she can manage food."
Someday she wanted to try to understand Nai. Really. But she simply didn't have half a lifetime to put towards deciphering the strange woman's mind, or lack thereof.
Tossing a couple more sandwiches onto a plate, she jerked one thumb into the living room. "Want to eat on the couch? It's more comfortable, but we can't tell the kids." No jam on her couch and crumbs in her carpet, no sir!
Somewhat like a deer in headlights, Naita blinked at the lack of reaction. Div was so impossible. She snorted, eyed the plate warily and, like a defeated child, nodded. There might have been more to her than met the eye, but management of her moods was simple enough. A lack of response usually led to a lack of any clue what the hell to do next. Defeated, she hiked Bob onto one hip and headed for the couch.
There. Another possible crisis averted. Naita was no longer whining, nor was she screaming bloody murder. It was a relief to find a balance between the carelessness and the over-protection. How did she have the energy for THAT many mood swings?
Whatever it was, she dismissed the issue from her thoughts and settled into the couch, placing the plate next to her. Nothing came to her after that, so she simply took another sandwich and chewed. What was there to talk about anyway?
Plopping herself onto the cushiony sofa, Naita rearranged the infant so as to allow her her gurgling pleasure while giving easy access to the food. If Bob had to be fed that often, then so did Naita, dammit. Another bite that took out half the poor snack's intestines. "Whatsth the neksth clue?" came the muffled query from beneath the mound of bread, mustard and semi-mastecated sandwich, accompanied by a jerk of the thumb towards the crossword.
"Hm? Oh." She had completely forgotten the crossword. Between her constant work and lack of talent for them, she only did one when she was either extremely bored or too curious for her own good. She was neither at the moment, but her interest returned quickly. "Let's see... ten across. 'Fit together,' four letters, ending in 'H' I think."
A wordsmith Naita was not, and shrugging, she snuggled back into the couch, bringing her legs off the soft carpet and scooping them around, laying Bob in the space thus created, and freeing her hands. The babe seemed to be enlivened by this, clamping one chubby mit around Naita's big toe and yanking on it, gurgling happily. "Agth," she burbled. "Agthagthagth."
This seemed good enough for Nai, and she pointed at the two-tailed kiddo, shrugging. "Tried agth?"
Much to her own surprise, DS let out a small chuckle. "Not yet. But with the three of us working at it, we should crack this open in no time!"
An odd feeling washed over her, ignored for the time being. As "agth" was an unlikely response, she tried a different clue. "'_____ than fiction.' You'd think we know that one, eh? Eight letters."
Here Naita mulled over her beef, chewing slowly and surely. Apparently this helped, because she suddenly piped out with "BETTER! ... tb." Adding random letters on the end of a word still kept it a word, right? If a tail-slap to the shin could be claimed as a sign of approval, it could be said Bob agreed.
This time she outright laughed. "Betterth? You must have gone to a very unique school, Naita-san."
There was that feeling again. What was it?
"Another one I should know. '_____ and dined,' five letters. What does someone do while dining?"
School? Hey, she might have gone to school for all she knew, so simply shrugged. A gift with words didn't buy a drink. Speaking of drinks, finally a clue she knew! "Wined. You drink with food." She may not be a top scholar, but she knew her beverages!
Of course she would get the one involving alcohol. "That works," DS replied blankly, filling it in. So what if she didn't know that, it wasn't as though she drank often. Not in the past year, she was proud to say.
"Flying stinger. Four letters, starting with W. That's tricky, I thought it would be bees for sure..."
"Wasp?" Hey, she was getting the hang of this! Crosswords had never really been her thing, close enough to the comics to get her attention, but not so close as to hold it, but if they were all this easy, she'd consider it. Jiggling merrily in the crook of her legs, Bob seemed determined to create a beat, thumping Naita's shins with both tails, finding it all very amusing, throwing her arms about manicly.
"Good one." The noise from Bob distracted her for a moment, but she smiled. "It's so much nicer to eat with music, don't you think so Bob?"
Again with that weird feeling. If she didn't find out what it was it would drive her mad.
"Preliminary race... that's 'heat,' I think. Next is... Fathered?" DS wrinkled her nose. "What sort of irony is that?"
"Change it to mothered, I say," Naita giggled, before pulling a face. "Oh... oh that is not attractive," she chorused, eyeing Bob, a scent liable to clear traffic emanating. "Gotta fix it." Picking up the babe, she dashed up the stairs, Bob held a way in front.
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Posted: Mon May 08, 2006 8:29 pm
Fishie Fishie?
The early afternoon sun stole through the gap in the curtains like a thief in search of valuables. Slowly, slowly it crept across the fortress of cardboard boxes, the sea of dust-splattered carpet, and finally reached the promised land- the bed.
The light's moves were stealthy, inching closer, closer. The duvet arose angrily, yet could not stop the traveller. A few more bumps appeared in the blankets. The beam of light did not stop. It was near the pillow now, it's task was at hand!
A face lay immobile on the soft downy folds of the pillow, eyes shut, lips moist with a thin film of drool. To these slumbering features did the sunlight make it's final advance, throwing itself upon those closed lids, dancing about their lashes until they fluttered, joining in the rhythm.
The mouth, however, held no such grace.
"Bugger off," it pleaded, and continued to do so for half an hour, until a baby's cry severed the connection to sleep for the day.
Hours passed before that face was again seen in the room, now somewhat more alive, and blessed with a small spattering of makeup.
Naita pottered around the place, pulling various items out of the cardboard boxes, useless gadget after useless gadget, until at last that she was searching for appeared.
Grabbing the small purse and shoving it into her breast pocket, the woman hummed lightly and headed back out of the room.
It was another few moments before she found her way downstairs, still unused to the layout of the house and it's many quirks.
Her daughter was held at Naita's hip, her form loosely covered in a yellow summer dress, the back of it flaring out at Bob's twin aquatic tails. A pair of nappies were wrapped haphazardly around the infant's back end, and a pair of mismatched booties accented the outfit.
"We're gonna get a fishie," Naita sang to the babe, waving one finger in front of Bob's face, touching it down on her nose.
"Fishie fishie."
The infant gurgled her response, flailing her arms likewise and slapping her tails in unison.
Out of the house the pair ambled, safety conscious as ever, leaving the door unlocked.
Their destination was in the town of Port Gino, thus the walk was short, though Naita's ever relaxed pace was no help to the time taken. Nonetheless, it was only a few streets wandered before the words "Pet Shop" appeared on a building before them.
"Fishie!" the woman squealed, jiggling Bob merrily.
The door opened, the warm blast of air scented with various types of pet food and pets caught the pair full in the faces, but the adult was fixed in her mission. She was going to get her daughter a fish, one to match her tails, and fin, and scales. Yes.
The opposite wall moved with life, glass case after glass case lining it. Inside these clear prisons, fish flitted this way and that, some hiding amongst the weeds placed therein, some reveling in the attention.
Naita stood before the glass city of aquatic lives, pointing out several of the more amusing fish to her daughter, watching as Bob reacted to each one in type, blowing a spit bubble and burbling away in baby talk.
"Fine," she sighed. "I was gonna find you a brother. Fishie fishie baby!"
More cases were perused, more fish rejected, until at last a simple goldfish met the criteria. Bob blew not one but TWO spit bubbles, and Naita took this as a sign of her agreement.
"I'll name him Pedro!" she exclaimed, before finding a salesgirl and making the purchase.
In a moment the pair were headed back to the house, the adult grinning merrily, the infant burbling and poking at the plastic bag housing her new friend.
Poke. Poke poke poke. Poke. Poke poke. Poke poke- splat.
Bob screeched. Naita gaped. Pedro flopped unhappily on the ground, drowning in the dry air.
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Posted: Fri Nov 03, 2006 3:12 pm
Two to Tango
In retrospect, DS felt that she shouldn't have been so hard on Eriol when he was dealing with HIS new addition. Not when her own daughter's arrival was being taken so hard. But after several months, she was finally getting getting used to the strange fishgirl, and was spending more time with her. In fact, she was nearly tempted to move the nursery downstairs, but that would mean moving Naita down as well, and DS wasn't ready for that yet.
Instead she crept upstairs often, usually when Naita was asleep, and began what might have been known as family bonding. That day she had a new dress for Bob, and hummed as she dressed the baby. Though, when she looked, her baby was getting bigger. It was what babies did, of course, but it brought a smile to DS's face all the same.
Bob wasn't quite so pleased. She had been sleeping when her mother decided to pay a visit, and instead of getting food or something fun, she got stuffed into a frilly blue dress. Besides being new and horribly stiff, with itchy lace around the hem, it was only one color! What sort of boring dress was that? Bob pulled at it, but to no avail.
"Ooooh, don't you look pretty, Bobby sweetie? Yes you do!" Despite promising that she never would, DS slipped into baby talk, speaking in a high-pitched voice that could have made paint crack. But she couldn't help it. Bob was really turning into a pretty little girl, whichever of her parents she got it from. Possibly both. Then again, it wasn't like either of them sported fish tails or scales, but it didn't matter.
Still humming, DS picked Bob up and headed for another of the attic rooms. This one had an old victrola in the corner, with a record in place. DS adjusted Bob so that she was cradled in one arm, over her shoulder, and wound the victrola with her free hand. A soft violin came out, playing a smooth waltz that DS began to dance to, holding Bob's small hands and keeping the toddler's head over her shoulder. Her hips swayed slowly, in time with the music, and she stopped humming, letting the record take over.
It wasn't bad. At least while she was moving, she didn't have to think about the itchy dress or that she was hungry. In fact, the movements were soothing, and soon Bob let her head fall onto her mother's shoulder sleepily. She could get used to this.
The song ended too soon, and a familiar polka followed it. After the first few bars DS began to hum again, changing her steps suitably. The humming have way to singing, barely above a whisper, the lyrics of the song. "Shall we dance... on a bright cloud of music shall we dance?"
Shall we dance?
Shall we then say goodnight and mean good-bye?
Or perchance-
When the last little star has left the sky
Shall we still be together with our arms around eachother
And shall you be my new romance?
On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen
Shall we dance? Shall we dance? Shall we dance?
Bob didn't really know what the song was saying, but if she had she would have said yes. Yes, they could dance, if it felt as nice as this. Her eyes closed, and she began to fly on her own cloud of music, towards sleep.
It was equally relaxing for DS, who kept in time with the music, swaying gently. The music soon became a haze, which she was all too pleased to get lost in. She kept dancing, not even hearing the music, until it changed once again.
"Ay ay ay ay!"
Startled, Bob awoke immediately and looked around with wide eyes. She had gotten woken up AGAIN. But she didn't cry, like she usually did. She howled.
DS was equally startled when the record started playing a tango. She'd forgotten that was on the record, and she paid for her mistake with an extremely cranky baby. "I'm sorry, Bob sweetie. Come on, let's get a snack. Some foody-woody, yes."
Bob didn't stop crying, but she was somewhat placated. She knew what food was. And it beat itchy dresses and dancing any day.
But then, the dancing wasn't that bad.
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Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2008 11:22 pm
Change of Pace
Well, it was finally happening. DS was feeling maternal towards her daughter- the one child she had trouble getting close to, the one who was actually, supposedly, biologically hers. Finally she wanted to try and bond with Bob, and do something that was just the two of them. To see just what her daughter was like, and try to reveal a little about herself in turn. Mother-daughter bonding at its fullest. Or something like that.
And yet all her plans were being foiled by clothing.
Had she thought things through a little more, DS might have realized that pants were not really practical for a child with multiple tails. But her train of thought had only extended as far as the fact that her daughter had a tendency to wave those tails around excitedly, and if they were going out, she was not going to have a child with a bare bottom. Or a bare diaper, as it were.
Ten minutes later, Bob was crying, her legs and tails tangled in the striped leggings, and DS almost felt like doing the same. Instead she picked Bob up, stockings and all, and started rocking her. It didn't work as well as it did when the girl was younger and slept most of the time anyway, but after a few minutes of that, at least neither of them was crying.
Bob wasn't upset or hurt so much as frustrated. She rather liked her mother-people, but they sometimes had strange ideas. Like the blue one and all the weird clothing. The gray one was less worried about those things, and usually put Bob in simple dresses and the like, though she wasn't all that good at diapers. But the blue one put her in silly clothes that made Bob want to pull out what little hair she had.
Fortunately for both of them, a few minutes of quiet comfort were all that was needed to put them both in a better mood. Bob was still long enough for her mother to extricate her from the leggings, and find something suitable to put her in. This would have been all they needed, if any of Bob's everyday dresses were clean. Sadly- and mysteriously- they were all covered with a layer of bright green paint.
"What on- we don't even have paint!" DS exclaimed, clapping her hands over her mouth when Bob started to make faces again. "No... no, don't worry, sweetheart! Mommy can fix this. There must be some other clothes around..." Leaving Bob to pout in her crib, she tossed the paint-streaked dresses aside and practically dove into the dresser.
This just wasn't her day, was it? Bob lashed her tails in annoyance and bit down on the nearest thing- which turned out to be a stuffed bear, now missing an ear due to too much chewing. All she wanted was some time with someone nice, and to wear something she could move around in. Or nothing at all, that would work too. No one would accuse Bob of being inflexible!
The pickings were slim. DS immediately discarded the kimono she had bought some months ago; it was too big anyway, and too bulky for such a little girl. The one nightgown that was there was not only inappropriate for an outing, but actually too small. For a moment DS wondered when Bob had outgrown it, but set it aside next to five pairs of pants that simply wouldn't work. She almost dismissed the bathing suit too, but held onto it for a moment. It was two pieces, more for simplicity's sake than anything else. Both pieces even fit, due to a special flap that wrapped around the base of her tail. But she needed something else.
Why wasn't she getting attention? Bob chewed on the other ear of the bear impatiently. She was tired of being ignored, and futzed with, and not having something decent to bite. And if blue mother person wouldn't do anything about it, she would. Somehow.
And then, all of a sudden, DS felt something brush her hand. Startled, she turned around, but nothing and no one was there. No one except Bob, who let out a loud wail and almost bashed her head on the edge of her crib in her frustrated flailing. Which, of course, only made her cry harder.
"Oh sweetie, be careful! You'll hurt yourself!" The words were probably obvious and completely ignored, but for DS the motions were rote. If Bob needed something else, she would have to learn a new routine. Or maybe it was the routine that was the problem. At this point, it was hard to tell.
Finding herself in her mother's arms again, Bob quieted, but only just. She shivered, half from the cold, half from pent-up distress. If something nice didn't happen soon, she would go mad! Or at the very least start screaming her head off again, which would likely drive her mother mad.
Sensing something wrong, DS held Bob away from her for a moment, resting the girl's feet on the dresser. "You know what, Bob dear? I think we should scrap the picnic and just go downstairs for some cake and music, how does that sound?"
There was only one word in that proposition that Bob really latched onto, and it made her bounce with excitement. "Cake! Cake cake cake!"
"I agree," DS laughed, whirling Bob away. As she passed the door, she paused, looking back. For a moment she was sure that she had felt something again. But with no evidence other than that, she shrugged and continued on her way. There was no point in worrying about it. At least, not when there was cake to be had.
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