The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hope turned round just in time to catch the fleeting shadow of her daughter as she tried to sneak past the open door.

"Darling?" said Hope, from underneath the huge, white cloth. "Come help dress the table."

A sigh, and something like a child-like groan emerged from the corridor, followed shortly after by the scowling shape of Blossom.

"Really darling, there's no need to look like that. Now take the other end of this table-cloth and help me with unfold it."

Blossom rolled her eyes, but did what she was told, picking up the edge of the cloth.

Between them they managed to get it unfolded, and over the table. Blossom crossed her arms and looked on as Hope smoothed down the puckered fabric.

"What do you think?" said Hope, stepping back and surveying it for herself.

"It looks terrible," said Blossom.

Hope tilted her head, examining the effect with narrowed eyes. "Really?" she asked, with more optimism that was warranted by the situation.

"Yes. It's covered with disgusting stains."

Hope sighed. There was no denying it. It did look awful. "You're right," she said.

They both stood in silence, contemplating the poorly dressed table sitting squat between them.

Blossom hopped from foot to foot before finally giving up on the pretence of the devoted daughter. "Can I go now?"

"No. Help me turn it over."

"Ma," whined Blossom, turning the word into at least sixteen syllables of ear-bleeding contempt.

"Yes, I know. I'm evil and terrible. Now get to it before I sell you to the glue factory."

Blossom crinkled her nose. "That's horses."

"Is it? Are you sure?"

The girl raised one eyebrow in a move she must have picked up from her father.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be able to get something for you. And then I can buy a new tablecloth."

"Bed-sheet."

"That too," said Hope.

It was a point of continual embarrassment that she had to use the sheets from her own bed as a cloth for the table whenever their Lord Patron came round. Every month she tried to put a few coins aside in the flowerpot she kept by the kitchen fire, but no sooner had the coppers collected into silvers, something would come up and the pot was emptied out again. The children were forever needing new shoes and there was only so many times one of Blossom's dresses could be cut down for the little ones. It didn't help that having a naming ceremony in the Chapel of the Fifth God meant purchasing a silken gown, fit to be seen on Mease Street. Th children who made use of the local ceremonies tended to get by in whatever they had to hand, which most of the time involved borrowing something from the neighbours.

It had been worth it, of course. Blossom had a naming to match any daughter of nobility, and she had looked just beautiful. Even Viridian had got a bit teary eyed at the sight of her, the old softy.

If it hadn't been for that awful news, it would have been the perfect day. Hope didn't know what to make of it. Pryvian soldiers right in the heart of the capital. It didn't bear thinking of. The streets had been packed as they made their way home. The hired coach got stuck in the mass of people more than once, and they'd been forced to abandon it as they entered Dakley. It had been a long walk home. Viridan, with a twin under each arm, and her, with Ochre clinging on around her neck. Blossom's arms were full of her skirts as she fought to keep them off of the dirty cobbles, screaming when anyone bumped into her, just in case they ruined the perfection of her gown.