Bella’s head twitched when she heard his voice and with a darted glance at Jason at the counter and one to Sally laying on her back on the couch (playing, with difficulty but determination, one-handed with her new kitty), Bella started down the hall.
Fiona followed.
“Prentice –”
Prentice cut her off, “What are you making?”
Fiona watched Bella’s head jerk as she stopped outside the laundry room before she asked, sounding flummoxed, “Pardon?”
“For dinner. What are you making?”
“Gammon and egg with chips and peas,” she answered, then went on quickly, “Prentice –”
He interrupted again, “Pudding?”
“What?”
“What are you making Sally for pudding?”
Bella tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling, visibly seeking patience.
Fiona giggled yet again.
“Treacle sponge with custard,” she replied, her eyes moving away from the ceiling. “Now, Prentice, listen to me –”
He didn’t let her continue. “Is it homemade?”
“What?”
“The sponge. Is it homemade?”
Bella sighed. Heavily.
“Yes. But Pren –”
“Save me some sponge.”
“Prentice –”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Talking so swiftly her words ran together, Bella declared, “Prentice, we have to talk.”
His voice was soft when he responded, “Aye, but I have a deadline, baby. We’ll talk when I get home.”
Bella made no response and Fiona saw her eyes were glazed again. And Fiona knew why.
Prentice had an attractive voice but when it got soft and he talked to you with love in his tone, well, that would make anyone’s eyes glaze over.
Fiona floated listlessly as she heard Prentice repeat, “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Then he disconnected.
Bella gazed dazedly at the phone for several long seconds before she pressed the button to turn it off.
Fiona decided she hated her again.
Prentice might not have called Fiona “baby”. And he might not have cuddled her in bed all night long.