Hideaway life - Part 2

Fifteen minutes and mild sunburn later, Pages had finished fixing the light; all she had to do was turn the dial in the end. The ultra-violet sensor had thought it was in midsummer instead of the beginning of autumn: a quick fix. The reason for the lights being programmed to copy the cycle of the sun upstairs was so that people didn’t develop weak eyes or frail skin, just in case they had to go out at anytime.

 

Stepping off the rickety old stool, Pages caught a greenish blob speeding towards her and, in a moment of panic, she sent her fist out to meet it.

 

For better or worse the object managed to dodge her swipe so that she didn’t get hit in the gut, but she still made contact to the side of its pelvis and it fell with a slight, “Owwie...”

 

Realising her actions had been rash (but it was hard to get out of old habits) Pages fell beside the person, “Oh my God! I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Before she saw his face; “Hardy! What are you doing? You know I’d hit you, you bloody idiot.”

 

“Just my luck,” he mumbled, winded, “I avoid being hit by Mama Cook’s sieve and run into your fist.”

 

“What did you do this time?” Pages asked, with actual curiosity, “Of course, just by being here you’re asking to be hit,” to show it was a reason enough for her.

He flashed an impish grin, highlighting his father’s fey blood, “You’ll see.”

 

Cocoa bounded into the spacious room, “She’s coming!”

 

Hardy sprang into action, “Cocoa, come play slapsies with me,” he called, pulling a pink, heart-shaped rocking chair next to the shaky stool Pages was standing on earlier and sat on the latter.

 

“Okie-dokie.” The game commenced.

 

“I might as well get myself a good viewing spot,” Pages said, sitting herself in a large red armchair adjacent to their childish game and drew a book from the pouch around her neck, “’cause I have a feeling there are going to be fireworks,” half-singing the last word.

 

Then in she came; fourteen stone of freckled fairy fury, swearing at a height of 5’0’’ and brandishing her makeshift weapon: a sieve. “Where be ya? You heinous repulsive rapscallions, come ‘ere an’ I’ll give ya crisscrossed welt on ya lousy backsides that ya’ll never forget!”

 

Whatever species Mama Cook was she didn’t have very good grammar and whenever she got angry she went the most charming plum colour. The source of her rage was not hard to find; she was sopping wet in tea. Ironic since she was hardly ever seen without a cup of the stuff. “Rather poetic,” Pages said to no one in particular, but in a rare congratulation of Hardy.

 

Everyone silenced and sat up straighter in their mismatched chairs waiting... waiting for the first spark of what was bound to be a very entertaining few minutes, even the parrot Sir Palaver shut up for once. Pages looked up from her book and made herself more comfortable; she was right, as always. This was a prime spot. Gazing at Hardy she knew it wasn’t a malfunctioning sun light causing his discomfort and rising temperature; he was having as much fun as the next person, but he was worried. He really didn’t want a ‘crisscrossed welt’ on his ‘lousy backside’. Nobody would.

 

“YOU!” Mama Cook yelled across the now buzzing room and pointing her sieve at Hardy like it was a knife, and from the look on his face it might as well have been.

 

“Me?” Hardy answered, trying to act innocent, but he dropped the facade instantly and flashed her a grin that made his eyes sparkle.

 

This only seemed to infuriate her more and she chose this moment to charge. Hardy leaped to the side at the last second; much like a bull fighter would do, like the one in Pages’ present story. Mama Cook collided with the stool knocking it over and in the process braking off one of the legs. Great, another job for me, thought Pages, sighing bitterly. Mama Cook again lashed out at Hardy, who again dodged the weapon, this time by jumping up onto the oaken coffee table. While Glimmer called, “Watch were you put your feet; I polished that this morning,” Mama Cook took another swipe at Hardy, this time landing a blow:

 

“You crazy moron,” Hardy cried in pain, “I need my lungs! I don’t have four like you do. Just the two, thank you very much! I don’t know why you’re put with the children, you’re effing lethal!”

 

Everyone else, of course, was roaring with laughter.

 

Mama Cook raised her sieve once more, getting ready to come down-

 

“SNATCHERS AND GRABBERS IN THE VISINITY! APROPIATE ACTION MUST BE TAKEN!”

 

The words shook the caves and everyone snapped to attention, then they went running in panic off in all directions, trying to get their emergency jobs done. Meanwhile, Sir Palaver repeated the message over and over in his high pitched squawk, making sure no one forgot.

 

“I’m not done with ya yet,” Mama Cook said and, Pages assumed, that that threat would keep Hardy away for at least a few days after this alarm, “but I’m required with the progeny. Cocoa, if you want to get back once again on my well meaning side, ya’ll assist me with the louts.”

 

For the last few minutes the rocking chair had been increasing the movements Cocoa had been making in her laughter, but she rose out of it and followed Mama Cook down the corridor.

 

“I don’t know what my luck’s up to today,” Hardy said as he joined Pages on her journey to the suhebium crystals, rubbing his back like an old man, “I go from Mama Cooks sieve, to your fist, back to her sieve and now possible capture and death? Really?”

 

Pages rolled her eyes, “Of course, no one would want you captured.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Pages just sighed; she wanted Blur back more than ever. Just to have an intelligent convocation.