“No, Lucy. Biscuits. There may be some Bourbons. Lincolns if nothing else.”
Harold sighed. Thus was language bastardised and devolved into a common denominator. He'd said it was a mistake to install a television in the nursery, but Julie had insisted it was a means of developing a child's intellect and view of the world at large. What it actually boiled down to was a cheap babysitter that occupied Lucy and allowed him to get on with reading something other than 'Brother Duck's iPhone'. “All right. Cookies, then.”
“Yay!” Lucy made a run for the kitchen door.
“I think you meant 'hurrah', young lady.” He caught up with her in a few paces and took her hand again, opening the door and holding it for her. He'd forgotten all about it for a few seconds, but the sudden chill made him look up to the figure at the table talking to his mother. Frederick sat miserably in his armchair by the television, looking almost afraid to move and Molly was nowhere to be seen. Harold smiled, pleased his mother was here to act as a buffer between Legion and Lucy.
“Cookies!” Lucy leaped toward the table, barely able to reach the surface let alone access the small plate nestled between the two adult's mugs.
“Biscuits, darling.” Ada handed her a Lincoln which, in the absence of anything containing chocolate, Lucy began to eat. “Hello, Harold.” Ada pushed a chair out from under the table and touched Lucy on the shoulder to get her attention. “Can you climb on here? There's someone I'd like you to meet.”