Something Rotten (Thursday Next 4)

'Then stop it right now,' I said. 'Why do you even need to do it at all?'

She pegged a blue Babygro on the line.

'Two reasons: first, I'm not going to give up work just because I'm married with a kid, and second, I always complete a contract, no matter what. When I don't deliver the goods the clients want refunds. And the Windowmaker doesn't do refunds.'

'Yes.' I replied, 'I was curious about that. Why the Window-maker?'

She glared at me coldly.

'The printers made a mistake on the notepaper and it would have cost too much to redo. Don't laugh.'

She hung up a pillowcase.

'I'll contract you out, Miss Next, but I won't try today – which gives you some time to get yourself together and leave town for good. Somewhere where I can't find you. And hide well – I'm very good at what I do.'

She glanced towards the kitchen. I hung a large SO-17 T-shirt on the line.

'He doesn't know, does he?' I said.

'Spike is a fine man,' replied Cindy, just a little slow on the uptake. You're not going to tell him and he's never going to know. Grab the other end of that sheet, will you?'

I took the end of a dry sheet and we folded it together.

'I'm not going anywhere, Cindy,' I told her, 'and I'll protect myself in any way I can.'

We stared at one another for a moment. It seemed like such a waste.

'Retire!'

'Never!'

'Why?'

'Because I like it and I'm good at it – would you like some tea, Thursday?'

Spike had entered the garden carrying the baby.

'So, how are my two favourite ladies?'

'Thursday was helping me with the washing, Spikey,' said Cindy, her hard-as-nails professionalism replaced by a silly sort of girlie ditsiness. 'I'll put the kettle on – two sugars, Thursday?'

'One.'

She skipped into the house.

'What do you think?' asked Spike in a low tone. 'Isn't she just the cutest thing ever?'

He was like a fifteen-year-old in love for the first time.

'She's lovely, Spike, you're a lucky man.'

'This is Betty,' said Spike, waving the tiny arm of the infant with his huge hand. 'One year old. You were right about being honest with

Cindy – she didn't mind me doing all that vampire sh— I mean stuff. In fact I think she's kinda proud.'

'You're a lucky man,' I repeated, wondering just how I was going to avoid making him a widower and the gurgling child motherless.

We walked back into the house, where Cindy was busying herself in the kitchen.