Page 21 of Storm of Bells
‘Youwhat?’
‘Or when I said we should have a donkey in atutu for a best man?’
‘Err…I’m not entirely sure my groom would beamenable to that.’
‘You goose! I’m not actually going to doit!’
‘You aren’t?’
‘No!’
‘Good. I mean, not that I’ve got anythingagainst donkeys, but there is that old tradition that if the groomstands up the bride, she’ll marry the best man, and well…bettersafe than sorry.’
‘I don’t want you to marry a donkey! I wantto know what’s wrong with Ella! What did you say to her?’
I held up both hands. ‘Nothing! I swear. Ijust gave her a sweet for her sore throat, that’s all. Here, wantone?’
I held out the paper bag, and Eve, saggingagainst the wall, took one with a grateful expression on herface.
‘Thanks! I can really use that. I’ve beenshouting for three hours straight, and—mmm! Not bad. Not bad atall.’
I perked up. ‘You think so?’
‘Yes! Where did you get these?’
‘They’ve just come out,’ I told her eagerly.‘You can get them at every store, and they’re very reasonablypriced.’
‘Really? I must tell Flora and Patsy,and…and…’ Eve blinked. A slightly dreamy expression was takingshape on her face. ‘W-what was I going to say?’
‘You were talking about Ella.’
‘Ah, yes! Dear, sweet little Ella! I wonderwhy the two of us disagreed earlier. Disagreeing is sodisegregiously disagreeable. And who knows, maybepink-orange-maroon isn’t such a bad colour scheme after all. Hasanyone ever tried?’
‘Err…probably not.’
Eve hugged me and, with a broad smile on herface, jumped to her feet. ‘That’s what I thought! Yay! I’ve got totell Ella! This is going to be perfect! We’ll make your weddinginto a day to remember, Lilly! Don’t you fear! I’m going to get youthe best donkey ever!’
And she dashed out of the room.
I sat there for a few moments, gazing afterher.
Well…
At least the candy was tasty, right?
Yes. Maybe a little bit too tasty. Perhapsyou should have asked Mr Ambrose what cocaine actually is beforeselling it in neat, colourful packages for one penny each.
I shook off the thought. No. It couldn’tpossibly be dangerous. Mr Ambrose would never sell dangeroussubstances just to make a quick profit, now, would he?
I sat there for a few moments, staring intonothing—then sagged back onto my bed and covered my face with mypillow.
‘Oh crap.’
SpiffingStatistics
Saturday arrived, andthen Sunday. I awaited the start of the work week with trepidation.Last Friday, Mr Ambrose had thrown me out of his office before hecould get around to a certain ritual of the business worldinvolving ‘fire’ and the syllable ‘ing’. A small oversight which, Iwas sure, he would remember to remedy today. He didn’t seem overlypleased with my performance as an ad campaign director.
It’s not fair! My sweets are great! Ellaliked them, and so did Eve and the rest of my friends!
