Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

Off to London

I had to admit that being away from Will again had put me in a mood. It wasn't as black as before, but I still spent a day hardly able to get out of bed. It was harder to be like that here in Southampton though, for without a staff to wait on me I had to deal with the various little bits of it myself. I had to get up to pull the curtains when the sun was too bright, I had to stumble downstairs to let Rigel out, and when Kate found me upstairs, she refused to consider bringing a bowl of the stew her mother had made with some of our food up, meaning that I had to go sit at the dining table for dinner.

Kate was surprisingly stern and made sure that I ate every bit of it, and some of the fresh bread she had made this morning. The bread was left with a warning that I was to at least eat some of it as toast in the morning. I did my best to highlight that in my letter to Will, although I did not gloss over how much I missed him. Not twenty minutes into the train ride home I had cried briefly over it, only soothed by Rigel worming his way around me.

I had called Sylvie as Will had asked me too, and after than first day, she had shown up with her children in tow to force me out of the house. According to her, malingering in a dark bedroom was no way to live, and it was far more useful to go for a walk around a local park. It was even more useful if I carried Mavis for her, although by the end of our walk my arms were burning. Sylvie laughed as I grumbled while shifting her daughter around, "You are going to have to get much stronger before you have your first."

"I am not becoming a weightlifter." I muttered, "Perambulators exist for a reason, you know."

"They do much better if they get used to you holding them." She replied, looking down to her sons. "You both used to enjoy being held rather than being pushed."

Roger stuck out his tongue, "I was never held!"

"Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen." Sylvie smirked, herding all of us back towards the house. "Now, for dinner, I noticed a large block of cheese and some noodles dressed in it would do well."

She was an exacting taskmaster in the kitchen, and it seemed that she hardly did anything. I was the one who was kneading dough and slicing it into noodles, melting the cheese into milk and mixing in herbs. Sylvie found me lacking in almost all areas, and by the end of the noodle making my arms were burning. While Roger and Trevor were devouring their portions, she daintily tasted hers. "I suppose it's acceptable, although you should have added some pepper."

I pursed my lips as I gathered a mess of noodles on my plate. "You were tasting it the whole time."

"I can't always supervise your cooking, you know. But this is a credible first effort. We can continue tomorrow."

"Sylvie," I groaned, dreading what part of me would be sore after her teaching. "I'm afraid I can't do tomorrow. I'm down to the offices, and I'll be in London shortly."

She paused; her fork lifted. "London?"

"Yes, I've been asked to testify in the inquiry." I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. "I'll be there for a week, I need to make arrangements."

She nodded, "We can take care of Rigel, if needed. The boys love him."

"I'm going to take him with," I confessed, eating some of my noodles. "He's a great comfort during situations like this, but you all are welcome to the food that's in the house. My mother intends to keep sending a small shipment for me." A thought occurred to me, and I smiled. "In fact, you're welcome to the food anytime. You need it far more than me, what with your three and soon to be fourth."

Sylvie blushed, "Anastasia, that's not necessary. Bertie sends home his pay, so we're doing alright."

"Then why are the boys devouring a meal of mediocre noodles?" I cocked my head, looking to where the boys were helping themselves to second portions. "Sylvie, I can't eat all of it and I'd rather it go to where it's needed."