Lullaby (The Fable Series, Book 2)

Chapter Five

An aussie girl? That's right... there was some commotion online last year, after Ben spotted a girl in the crowd at their Melbourne show. He hinted on his Twitter account that they were dating, and the girl apparently got hundreds of death threats within a few hours. Someone even set up a Kickstarter to hire a hitman to get her killed. It actually made the news. Ben broke it off and the trolls left the girl alone. Is that what Alastaire's talking about?

"I know it didn't take you the whole day just to buy some food," Alastaire says. "Where have you been Cupcake? Where did Kitty take you?"

"We went for lunch at the Night Owl," I say. "I mean, the café my parents own. And then..."

Ask the angel.

I stop mid-sentence, before mentioning the graveyard. Now isn't the right time to bring it up with Alastaire. I need to get him alone. Preferably after he's had a few glasses of champagne.

"And then what?" Ben asks, leaning forward on the sofa, suddenly interested. "Where were you all day?"

"That's none of your concern," Kitty says. "Anyhow, I'm slipping upstairs for some beauty sleep. Ash, I'm leaving a surprise for you next to the bath, make sure you use it. I'll be very upset if you don't." With a wave she disappears up the black wrought iron spiral staircase in the corner of the living room.

"Oi, Al, Benji!" Lyall yells as he hauls in the shopping. "Come help with these bags ye feckin' gobshites."

Ben rolls his eyes and lumbers to the front door.

Lyall drops some bags on the counter and starts unpacking bottles into the fridge.

"How long had it been since Fee left?" Lyall asks Alastaire. "Feels like he stormed off in a huff ages ago."

"Don't concern yourself with it", Alastaire says. "He's just upset that his sister stole away our lovely songstress away for a whole precious day. He'll get over it."

"I guess we won't be getting' round to any recordin' tonight," Lyall says, peering out the window past me. "It's almost dark, and ye must be tired Ash. I've been on one o' Kitty's shoppin' trips before. It's like de Olympics."

I giggle and nod in agreement, stacking plums and pears into a large wooden fruit bowl.

"Lyall, give me a shout if you come across my pud in those bags," Alastaire says. "You too Cupcake. Don't let that leprechaun eat it."

"Seriously Al, I'll never understand yer obsession with Christmas puddin'," Lyall says. "It's gotta be de most disgustin' thing you British eejits have ever tried to pass off as food. Ye couldn't pay me to eat de stuff."

"That's because it's an acquired taste," Alastaire says. "I have a very refined palate. Anyway, you don't like caviar or escargot either."

"That's because eatin' fish eggs and snails is disgustin'," Lyall replies.

"Peasant," Alastaire snipes.

"Snob," Lyall replies.

"What do you think Cupcake?" Alastaire asks, rising up from the sofa and walking over to me. He starts searching through the grocery bags on the counter. "Do you like Christmas pudding?"

"You mean like... the one with dried fruits that people set on fire?" I ask. "Like fruitcake?"

"Yes, that's it," Alastaire says, smiling as he finds the colossal cloth-wrapped pudding Kitty picked up for him at the German delicatessen on Newman street. "Careful how you answer. This is a deal breaker."

To be honest, I don't remember ever trying it. It's one of those things I've always avoided, on account of it looking like a ball of putrefying cat food.