(Vegetables) Chapter Four: Cake Has Miraculous Powers – No Surprise There

When Rosa and Felindre came downstairs again, an hour and twenty three minutes later, Morwen and Richard had between them polished off the remaining bottles of wine, two party packs of mixed root veg crisps and had talked about work, hobbies, the care and upkeep of chickens, favourite vegetables to eat and grow and the time travel paradoxes engendered by Weeping Angels. Morwen had also baked a cake and was just pulling it out of the oven.

“Oh, that smells good!” said Felindre. “I could smell it from upstairs.”

She took a huge slice onto a plate and grabbed two forks, and dragged Rosa to sit next to her on the sofa.

“It’s another new recipe, from the book I got this afternoon. Chocolate and beetroot cake,” Morwen said. “I had a lot of beetroot from the allotment that needs using. Careful, it’s hot!”

She muttered to herself: “Hopefully this recipe will be a bit more successful.”

“It’s a taste combination that you’d think wouldn’t work,” said Rosa, her mouth full of cake. “But it’s soooo good! Yummy, gooey, chocolatey goodness!”

Between the four of them, they made short work of the first half of the cake, Felindre in particular making appreciative noises, and Rosa giggling as the two fed each other bits of cake.

Morwen rolled her eyes at them.

“Hey, less of the public displays of affection, you two. We have a guest.”

Richard was looking embarrassed again. To change the subject, he quickly asked Morwen:

“So, you were going to tell me how your phone got hit by lightning?”

Morwen had been spectacularly avoiding this particular question, but Rosa was quick to jump in this time.

“Oh, it was the damndest thing,” she said. “Myself and Mor were walking across the park one afternoon a few months ago when she got a call on her phone. She answers it, and out of nowhere, out of a clear sky comes this bolt of lightning, which hits her!

“I nearly died of shock, I tell you – we were both knocked over by it. But the only damage that was done was to her phone. Doctors say we were really lucky – we could have both been killed!”

“It’s fine,” said Morwen, in the tone of voice of someone who’d really rather be talking about something different. “No harm done.”

There was silence for a few moments. Then:

“So, what’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to you Richard?”

“Um, not very much really. Normal life, parents, sister. I did go on a submarine voyage once, but it wasn’t that exciting.”

“My horoscope last week said that I’ll be going on a long trip soon,” said Rosa. “Which is true, because I’m going up to Scotland to visit friends in a few months, and that’s like a whole day on the train!”

“How about you? What’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to you?” Richard asked Felindre, in an attempt to divert the conversation away from himself and/or horoscopes.

“I once was kidnapped by an evil genius and forced to listen to him expound on his evil plot in the form of songs from the musicals.”

“Really?” Richard asked incredulously.

“No,” said Felindre, and she took another huge bite of cake. As she chewed, she looked thoughtfully at Richard again.

There was another uncomfortable silence.

“Oh look,” said Morwen, draining her wine glass. “We’re out of wine. Richard, let’s go down the pub.”

“Brilliant idea,” said Rosa. “Let me get my coat.”

She got up from the sofa, only to have Felindre pull her back down again.

“What?” Rosa asked Felindre.

“I think we’ve had enough of the double date thing,” replied Felindre. “No offense Richard, but maybe some time with just you and Morwen would be good?”

Richard looked gratefully at Felindre, and then questioningly at Morwen.

“Fine by me,” she said.

Morwen and Richard left the room to grab their coats. They popped their heads around the living room door to say goodbye to discover that Rosa and Felindre were all over each other again. Richard didn’t know where to look, and was going that interesting shade of red¹⁴.

Morwen coughed loudly.

“We’re off,” she said. “Don’t wait up!”

Rosa giggled and looked at Richard.

“Nice to meet you, Richard,” she giggled, as Felindre was stroking her neck. “Next time, be more adventurous with the plants.”

Morwen grabbed Richard’s hand and dragged him out of the room.




Down the pub, Richard visibly relaxed, though he had insisted on buying the drinks.

“Very chivalric of you,” said Morwen, as he sat down on the padded bench next to her.

“Is that a nice way of saying old-fashioned?” asked Richard.

“Well, you are wearing a cardigan.”

“I’ve heard they’re coming back into fashion.”

“Yeah, and bow-ties are cool too.”

They smiled at each other.

“Rosa’s nice,” Richard ventured cautiously.

“She’s mad as a box of frogs, but she has a good heart,” Morwen replied. “I’ve known her since school.”

“What’s she do?”

“She works as a reporter and general dogsbody for a local paper. Mainly does horoscopes. You’d think that for someone who writes the damn things, she’d know how much rubbish they are, but she’s a true believer. Despite Felindre’s best efforts.”

“Which paper?”

“The Weekly Bugle. Terrible rag, mostly local advertising and the occasional lost cat notice. But it’s journalism, and Rosa’s determined that it’s her stepping stone to a Pulitzer prize.”

Richard frowned.

“The Weekly Bugle, did I hear that they’ve a new editor now?”

“So Rosa says. She’s terrified of her.”

“Ah,” said Richard, taking a swig of his pint. “Felindre – she’s a bit fierce...”

“That’s one way of putting it. She’s a black belt or something really high up in some obscure martial art. The last time a bloke put a hand on her when she told him not too, she damn near tore it off.”

“Ah,” said Richard.

“It’s ok,” said Morwen. “I think she’s reserving judgement on you, for the time being. You didn’t make the stupid crack about asking to watch her and Rosa, and that’s usually a good sign.”

“And you?” asked Richard.

“And me what?”

Richard cautiously put his hand on hers, where it rested between them on the pub table. Morwen turned hers over so they could interlace fingers.

“I, um, think you’re really beautiful, and clever, and sexy,” Richard said. “And I really like you, and spending time with you. This is our third date now, and I’d like there to be a fourth. Would that be ok with you?”¹⁵

Morwen smiled, and squeezed his hand.

“I think an option to renew is definitely in order,” she said.

“I thought you were a botanist, not an insurance broker,” he said, and kissed her¹⁶.

“Next date,” he said, “could we possibly avoid double dating with your housemate again?”

Morwen smiled.

“I think we can manage that. If,” she said, “you refrain from bringing me carnations again. Can’t stand the bloody things.”

They spent the rest of the time down the pub getting steadily drunker and talking about plants, and other random things. They obviously found it all fascinating¹⁷.

Oh, and it turns out that daisies are in fact Morwen’s favourite flowers, though carnivorous plants came a close second. Who knew?




It was late, and Morwen and Richard were both more than a bit drunk when they staggered back from the pub.

“Is that a glow in the dark rabbit?” asked Morwen as they were halfway down the road.

Whatever it was, it was gone before she finished her sentence.

Richard kept up his gentlemanly behaviour, kissing Morwen passionately on the doorstep, but not pushing to come in.

Morwen closed the door behind herself, and slumped on the other side of it, a soppy smile on her face.

It was the next morning, a Saturday, when Morwen wandered downstairs to let the chickens out and make coffee, and finally noticed the trail of clothes and underwear leading from the living room up to the closed door of Rosa’s room.

Morwen sighed, and kicked a pair of red lace frilly knickers under a pair of jeans.

The kitchen was a mess, and there was nothing left of the chocolate and beetroot cake except for a few forlorn crumbs.

Morwen sighed again. She pulled on a pair of wellies, and in her dressing gown, went into the garden to open the door of the chicken run. The chickens eagerly skidded down the ramp from their house and spilled out into the garden, clucking excitedly.

“Morning, girls,” she said, yawning loudly. “Be good, I’m going back to bed.”

She left them to their usual activities of scratching for worms and chasing bugs, went back inside, grabbed a mug of coffee and a box of paracetamol and went back to bed.

A pigeon landed on the kitchen windowsill, and pecked at the burnt popcorn kernels. A blast of outraged clucking from the chickens soon scared it off.


____
¹⁴ Honestly, if he was going to hang around Morwen for any length of time, he’d just have to learn to deal with her housemate and her girlfriend. Either that, or look permanently sunburned.
¹⁵ Bleurgh.
¹⁶ Double belurgh
¹⁷ It wasn’t.