Name Game (completed)

Chapter Four

edited 11-07-14

Rose smiled, tentatively, as Ashley slid his arm around her shoulder. I am enjoying this, she repeated to herself, I am enjoying this. But the truth was she really wasn’t. The atmosphere in Madam Puddifoot’s teashop was stifling; the owner alternated between Ventus calidarius and Odoratus suavis, inducing in turn gusts of warm air and perfume, with an effect not dissimilar to that one might expect of a tropical greenhouse. Ashley’s warm body pressed up against her own wasn’t helping, and Rose was becoming painfully conscious of the beads of perspiration appearing on forehead. The heady aroma was too strong for nasal inhalation, forcing her to breathe through her mouth, which she was certain gave her the highly unattractive appearance of a panting dog.

She was desperate for a drink, but the only thing Ashley had seen fit to order was Peachtree Fizzing Tea, which aside from being alarmingly effervescent (the bubbles continued to rise up even once swallowed, causing the drinking to belch frequently at an unnatural volume) had been laced with copious quantities Elfin sugar crystals, which only served to worsen its already unpleasant taste. She took hesitant, slightly desperate sip, gagged, and set her teacup down firmly on the lace doily.

Madam Puddifoot bustled over, bearing a plate of shaped biscuits with pink-and-lilac icing. The last thing Rose wanted was a biscuit, particularly one that would move as she swallowed it, but before she could do anything to prevent him, Ashley had selected one in the shape of heart with an arrow being continually shot through it and was attempting to stuff it in her mouth. Rose resisted the urge to bite his fingers, although the notion was tempting, and she did very nearly spit it back out in his face.

“Do you mind if we go to the Three Broomsticks?” she asked Ashley, gulping down the biscuit, which proved exceptionally hard as the arrow kept renewing itself and piercing her tongue. “I could really do with some iced pumpkin juice – it’s so hot in here.”

“Oh, well Madam Puddifoot does her own personalised version of iced pumpkin juice,” Ashley informed her with dauntless enthusiasm, “I’ll order you some; you’re bound to prefer it to the classic stuff.”

Rose tried to protest (her short experience with the teashop was enough to tell her anything served at Madam Puddifoot’s would be foul), but she couldn’t come up with a plausible excuse, so simply sat there, wondering whether the pumpkin juice would be died pink.  She grimaced as it arrived: a syrupy concoction that Madam Puddifoot set in front of her amid much indistinguishable ooohing. Yanking the frilled collar off the glass, she lifted it to her lips – and instantly regretted her decision. The juice was mixed with Grenadine – a lot of Grenadine. Abandoning all politeness she spat it back into her glass. Ashley looked at her curiously.

“Don’t you like it?” he asked, apparently puzzled.

Rose shook her head vehemently.

“It’s the most disgustingly sweet thing I’ve ever tastes, even worse than that stupid tea!”

 “I don’t like it much either.”

Rose looked at him incredulously.

“Then why did you take me here?”

Ashley shrugged.

“I thought since you’re so sweet and pretty, you’d like sweet, pretty things.”

Rose rolled her eyes, and then, noticing the slightly affronted expression on Ashley’s face, began to feel a bit guilty. He did try very hard, she supposed. She laid an apologetic hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Ash, thanks for making the effort.” She smiled prettily at him. “Shall we just go to the Three Broomsticks?”

Ashley kissed her on the cheek.