(Vegetables) Chapter Nine: A Little Bit Of Recovery Time

None of them went back to work that afternoon, as the whole town centre had been closed down by the police. Instead they went to Felindre’s flat, which was close enough by for them all to calm down and feel safe.

It was a small flat, yet very tastefully furnished in reds and oranges and golds, with plenty of comfy cushions and the occasional oriental style print on the wall. In one corner stood a music stand, a high stool and a double bass. Propped in another corner, under a ceiling hook was a very large, very heavy looking punch-bag. The fabric strap that attached the bag to its hanging chain had been torn clean off²⁶.

They still had the young man who had taken a cream cake to the face. He was not looking very happy – his eyes were very red and puffy and painful looking. Morwen had finally recognised him as Hello-my-name-is-Tom, from the bookshop, recently having been at the receiving end of a little old lady rant.

Tom shuddered.

“Oh yes, “ he said. “ I remember her! And that stick of hers – she certainly waved it in my face enough. All I could think of was wondering why the handle was shaped like a cucumber.”

Felindre had taken charge. She had an excessively well stocked first aid kit, including, but not limited to some things that should have only been available to orthopaedic surgeons.

“Are you a doctor or something?” Hello-my-name-is-Tom asked her, as she carefully wiped off his face with sterile wipes.

“Or something,” Felindre said, shooting daggered looks at Rosa, who was trying not to laugh behind Hello-my-name-is-Tom’s back. “What on earth was in that cream? Acid?”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” mumbled Hello-my-name-is-Tom. “Ow!”

“Don’t fuss,” said Felindre, absently.

Morwen’s phone rang – the theme to James Bond. It was Richard.

“Are you ok?” he asked straight away. “I heard there’s a riot, or possibly a food fight, near your work.”

“I’m ok, though Rosa’s a bit shook. We’re at Felindre’s.”

“Give me the address, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“No need, honestly, we’re fine.”

“But...” Richard protested.

Morwen felt the phone expertly plucked out of her hands. It was Rosa.

“I’ll text the address. Ignore Mor, she’s gone into super-efficient super woman mode. She does that. Best thing is to not let her get away with it, otherwise she gets really bossy.”

And Rosa hung up.

“Rosa,” said Morwen. “Give me my phone, now.”

Morwen was not happy.

“Give me my phone, Rosa.”

Rosa was frantically poking at the phone.

“How do you make this thing work?”

“Rosa!”

Rosa danced away as Morwen grabbed for the phone, right into Felindre’s reach. Felindre expertly and without even looking around grabbed the phone and tossed it to Morwen, who caught it.

“Don’t text him my address,” said Felindre.

“Believe me, I’ve no intention of texting Richard your address, Felindre.”

Sissy spoke: “Texting Richard Felindre’s address.”²⁷

“Dammit!” yelled Morwen. “Sissy, no!”

“I think you need a new phone,” giggled Rosa.

Morwen threw a cushion at her. Rosa ducked. The cushion sailed perilously close to the double bass and knocked over the music stand.

“Hey!” protested Felindre. “Stop that, or I’ll throw you all out!”

She glared at them for a moment, then all three dissolved into a fit of giggles. Hello-my-name-is-Tom peered through swollen eyes, completely bemused.

Richard arrived twenty seven minutes later, looking harried. He’d cleaned up, but there were unmistakeably signs of scone crumbs in his hair. He also was favouring his left arm.

“Does someone around here feed the pigeons?” he asked as he came in the door. “Only there’s a lot of them hanging around outside. And I could have sworn I saw a bright green rabbi-”

He stopped abruptly as he saw Hello-my-name-is-Tom sitting on the sofa with a pack of frozen peas wrapped in a towel pressed to his face, watching the television, where the local news was all about the cake fight²⁸.

“What,” said Richard in a dangerously measured tone, “are you doing here?”

Hello-my-name-is-Tom jumped off the sofa like he’d been electrocuted, and practically stood to attention. But before he could open his mouth, Felindre had stood up and walked to in front of Richard.

At her full height, she barely reached his breastbone, but the look she gave him had him taking a step back²⁹.

“He’s here as my guest,” she said, also in a dangerously measured tone.

“Welcome to Felindre’s home for waifs and strays,” giggled Rosa.

Felindre, Morwen and Richard all turned to glare at her.

“What?” she protested. “I’m just trying to lighten the atmosphere…”

It hadn’t worked. Richard went back to staring daggers at Tom.

“I caught a cream cake in the face,” Tom explained hurriedly, obviously trying to calm things down. “And I reacted badly. Lactose intolerance. Purely accidental!!”

Richard didn’t look like he was buying the accidental part, though it was patently obvious by the state of Tom’s face that something had hit him, and hard.

“Anyway,” continued Tom, nervously, “thanks very much for everything, but I think I really should be getting home now.”

“Don’t be silly!” said Rosa. “At least wait until someone can come and collect you.”

“No, no,” stuttered Tom. “I can see now, and it’s just a few minutes until the next bus home. I’ll be fine!”

“Keep an eye on that face, and if the swelling hasn’t gone down by tomorrow, go to the doctors,” Felindre ordered him, still staring Richard down. “And if the swelling increases, or you have any problems breathing, go straight to the emergency room – no delays.”

“Yes ma’am,” replied Tom, shuffling sideways towards the door.

Morwen scribbled her phone number down on a piece of paper.

“Text me when you get home,” she said, “so we know you got back alright.”

Richard gave her a look. She stared back at him.

“You,” she said to Richard. “Kitchen, now.”

“Um, bye, and thanks,” said Tom, making his escape.

Rosa and Felindre looked at each other as the sound of raised voices came from the kitchen. It all started very calm and reasonable, then Rosa winced as Morwen shouted:

“I can’t believe you’re jealous!”

“I was worried sick about you!”

“I was FINE!!”

Richard stormed out of the kitchen.

“Rosa, Felindre, good to see you again.”

And with that, he was out of the flat and gone.

Behind him, Rosa and Felindre shared a look.

“I’ll get the chocolate, you get the wine,” Rosa told her girlfriend. “It’s going to be a long night.”

___

²⁶ From the amount of stitching on both the bag and the strap, not for the first time either.
²⁷ Damn that voice control interface, so unreliable!
²⁸ The news anchors were baffled. So were the police. The local reporter was reporting in from the scene of the fight, where all that was left was a turned over table with a forlorn and ripped paper tablecloth rippling in the breeze. And pigeons. Lots of them, eating the spilled cake. Some had eaten so much they weren’t really pigeon-shaped any more, more spherical.
²⁹ If you think you could have withstood Felindre’s stare any better, well, let me know. I’ll set up a match (and earn a lot of money betting against you).