The Well of Lost Plots (Thursday Next 3)

'You dance well for someone with one leg, Arnie.'

'I have two legs, Thursday.'

And we burst out laughing again. I steadied myself on him and he steadied himself on the sofa. Pickwick looked on and ruffled her feathers in disgust.

'Do you have a girl in the Well, Arnie?'

'Nobody,' he said slowly, and I moved my cheek against his, found his mouth and kissed him, very gently and without ceremony. He began to pull away then stopped and returned the kiss. It felt dangerously welcome; I didn't know why I had been single for so long. I wondered whether Arnie would stay the night.

He stopped kissing me and took a step back.

'Thursday, this is all wrong.'

'What could be wrong?' I asked, staring at him unsteadily. 'Do you want to come and see my bedroom? It has a great view of the ceiling.'

I stumbled slightly and held the back of the sofa.

'What are you staring at?' I asked Pickwick, who was glaring at me.

'My head's thumping,' muttered Arnold.

'So's mine,' I replied.

Arnold cocked his head and listened.

'It's not our heads – it's the door.'

'The door of perception,' I noted, 'of heaven and hell.'

He opened the door and a very old woman dressed in blue gingham walked in. I started to giggle but stopped when she strode up to me and took away my wineglass.

'How many glasses have you had?'

'Two?' I replied, leaning against the table for support.

'Bottles,' corrected Arnie.

'Crates,' I added, giggling, although nothing actually seemed that funny all of a sudden. 'Listen here, Gingham Woman,' I added, wagging my finger, 'give me my glass back.'

'What about the baby?' she demanded, staring at me dangerously.

'What baby? Who's having a baby? Arnie, are you having a baby?'

'It's worse than I thought,' she muttered. 'Do the names Aornis and Landen mean anything to you?'

'Not a thing,' I replied, 'but I'll drink to them, if you want. Hello, Randolph.'

Randolph and Lola had arrived at the doorstep and were staring at me in shock.

'What?' I asked them. 'Have I grown another head or something?'

'Lola, fetch a spoon,' said Gingham Woman. 'Randolph, take Thursday to the bathroom.'

'Why?' I asked as I collapsed in a heap. 'I can walk.'

The next thing I saw was the view down the back of Randolph's legs and the living-room floor, then the stairs as I was carried up over his shoulder. I started to giggle but the rest was a bit blurry. I remember choking and throwing up in the loo, then being deposited in bed, then starting to cry.

'She died. Burned.'