Page 55 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
And she reallydidhave a scar there.
Still, it was twenty years ago.
I’d already forgiven her for karate chopping my elbow.
Surely, she was over it.
Then again, my sister hadn’t forgiven me for a fake spider I put in her bed when she was six, so maybe it wasn’t all that weird after all.
“Oh, good, you’re here.” Mum sashayed into the living room and held out a catalogue that was folded back on itself. “Hear me out,” she said, touching the catalogue to her chest. “A drum kit.”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“A what?” I asked, peering at her from my slouched position.
“Sit up.” She whacked me on the head with a catalogue. “Or you’ll end up like Quasimodo, and that’s unbefitting for a young man, much less one of your station in life.”
I sat up straight.
“Thank you,” she said, then handed me the catalogue.
Ah. It was the toy book that was decorated with at least one hundred circles from Danny’s requests.
“A drum kit,” Mum repeated, tapping one of the pictures. “For Danny.”
“I didn’t think it was a gift for the housekeeping staff,” I replied, eyeing the one she’d pointed to.
“I don’t know. Laurelin was in a band once, and she was quite the drummer, if my memory serves me correctly.”
“Mum. Have you thought this purchase through?”
“I think he’d love a drum kit!”
That was the point.
“And in eight months’ time, there’s going to be a newborn baby in the house. Don’t you think that’ll be enough noise?” I raised my eyebrows. “The last thing we need is a six-year-old boy with access to a drum kit.”
She looked at me, and I could almost see my words rattling around her brain.
Sadly, I could also see them going in one ear and zooming right out of the other. Just like when you let the air out of a balloon, and it whizzed around the room before it fell sadly to the ground.
That was my words.
Falling sadly to the rug.
“This is a very big house,” Mum continued. “We could put it somewhere we couldn’t hear it.”
“Mother, you could put a drum kit in Nigeria, and I suspect we’d still hear it.”
“I think he’d love it.”
“If you want him to make noise, a saucepan and wooden spoon are a much cheaper option.”
“Oh, Thomas, you’re so boring.” She took the catalogue back and sat down on the sofa where she opened it and set it on her lap, then produced a pen from inside her blouse.
I didn’t want to know where she’d stashed that.
“I’m not boring, Mum.” I forced myself out of the comfort of the armchair and looked over at her. “I remember when you boughtmea drum kit when I was six. You didn’t get the lessons to go with it, so I’d imagine it was as annoying as having rats in the roof.”
