Page 8 of In Stockings
“Hawaiian pizza?” Dylan asks her.
“Yep. It’s delish. You should have it too, TwinkleToes.”
“Maybe I will,” Astrid says, pulling a sheet of the colouring pages her way.
Dylan’s nose twitches slightly, and he gives me a pointed look before taking the rest of our orders.
“You need to colour the Princess’ hair red like mine,” Lyra instructs Astrid, peering over at her work.
“Of course, silly me,” Astrid says, smiling to herself.
“You’d think an elf would know that,” Samson says, folding his arms across his chest.
“I’ve only been an elf for a couple of weeks. I’m still learning.”
“So what do you do when you’re not an elf?”
“Studying to be a paediatric nurse.”
“What’s a peedy trick purse?” Lyra asks.
“It means I’m learning about how to look after poorly children,” Astrid explains.
“You’re too old for school,” Lyra says.
“You’re never too old for school, sweetheart,” I tell her.
“Have you learned that five and five makes ten yet? That’s a really tricky one,” she asks Astrid.
“It is, and yeah, I learned about that one.”
“My daddies are firemen.”
Astrid looks up from her colouring, her hand hanging in mid-air.
“F-firemen?” she squeaks.
Samson smirks back at her, and I swear that idiot flexes his pecs.
That pink swims across her cheeks again.
“All three of you?”
“All three of us.”
“They put out fires and rescue people and stuff. They’re very brave.”
Samson laughs, and Astrid simply smiles. “I bet they are. I remember when the caretaker's cat got stuck on the school roof, and your Daddies climbed up the drain pipe to rescue it.”
“Huh,” I say. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“Really? It was all people talked about for weeks and weeks at school.”
I shrug. People talked all sorts of shit in school. We spent most of our time ignoring it. Still do.
“Firefighting must be hard with a little one.” Astrid gazes back down at her picture. “What with being on call and stuff?”
“We’re not on shift at the same time most of the time, and when we are, my cousin Vee looks after Lyra.”
