Spindle's End (50 page)

Rosie stared at him as if he had turned green or grown wings. “Narl, I’ve been in love with you
forever
.”

“That’s all right then,” he said, smiling a little, and Rosie remembered the animals saying,
Ironface! Smiling!
And Flinx,
the Block, cracking.
That had been a terrible day, the grey grim waking after the princess’ ball, Peony missing and Pernicia waiting, and a terrible moment: Narl had just called her
Princess,
like slamming a door shut between them.

Narl’s smile grew fixed, as if he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say next, and when he spoke at last he sounded so wistful and forlorn Rosie heard an echo in her mind, a great white bird chained to high rafters saying,
Will you come and talk to me again some time?
“Then will you marry me?”

“Oh yes. Yes.
Yes.
Oh. But you’ll have to come live with us, you know.”

Narl, who lived behind his forge in two small rooms full of old tools and things he hadn’t figured out how to mend yet, flinched.

“Oh—please,” said Rosie, and grabbed his dangling hand, suddenly feeling that whatever happened next she would burst with it.

“What will they say?”

Rosie shook her head, still hanging on to his hand. “I don’t care.” She thought about it a moment, and then, surprised, and realising it was the truth, said, “They’ll like it.”

“They will, will they?”

But she realised he was laughing at her, and she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him, and his arms closed round her, and drew her down next to him. They were out of sight of the town common and Fast’s groom was safely at the pub and this bit of the courtyard ground had been recently swept; and it was a quiet afternoon, and no one came bursting through the courtyard gate with the latest ironmongery crisis. The kiss went on quite some time, till Fast, standing tied to a ring and wearing only three shoes, turned his head round to see what was going on. It sounded rather enjoyable.

Well, finally,
said Flinx.
Did you ever know two humans so thick?

But Fast was a romantic. He could hardly wait to go home and spread the news at Woodwold, but he had to have four shoes first. He switched his tail, and nodded his head up and down hard enough to jerk at the ring, and began to paw the ground. And the hay-bale mice, taking advantage of Flinx’s preoccupation, shot out of the back of the bale, dodged their way out of the yard, dashed across the common, and arrived, panting, to tell their relatives at the pub about the princess and the fairy smith.