Silence No More

28. Getting the Ball Rolling

"I'm going to stab you." Patsy's voice wasn't threatening. She simply sounded as if she were announcing an unchallengeable truth. "I. Am. Going. To. Stab. You. If not with my parasol, then with the first pointy object I can get my hands on."

"Are you sure about that?" I enquired, fishing a needle out of a sewing box on a nearby shelf to offer it to her. "I have to admit, getting to watch you do needlework would almost be worth the perforation."

Her eyebrows twitched, and a muscle in her cheek as well.

Yay! Any minute now, her little finger will start twitching! I'm getting really good at this!

Thankfully ignorant of my thoughts, Patsy turned back to the table in front of her—which just so happened to be a diaper changing table. With narrowed eyes, she stared down at the desktop, and the little squirt on top of it.

"You. Behave!"

In response, a cloud of noxious, poisonous fumes rose into the air.

"Waah? Waaah waah!"

I beamed with pride.

Well done, Berty! That's my boy!

"Do I really have to do this?" Patsy enquired as she tried to simultaneously wrinkle her nose and hold it shut. "Can't I just hold him under a tap or something?"

"Sure you can," I agreed, cheerfully. "If you want me to tell Lady Samantha that you watered her grandson like a dried-up petunia."

Patsy blanched. Then she immediately started pulling open the knots of Berty's diaper.

"Oy!" she barked. "You over there! Yes, you, hiding behind the chest of drawers! Get over here and help me!"

Cautiously, Eve and Flora peeked out from behind the piece of furniture they were using as a hiding spot. "Um...do we have to?"

The glare they received was answer enough. Slowly, reluctantly, they rose to their feet and approached the happily giggling gas bomb. Together, the three arrayed themselves in front of the little fellow like one would in front of a firing squad and, their faces set in grim determination, reached out to—

A knock came from the door, and it opened just far enough for Ella to stick her head inside. "Um, excuse me, is Mr Victor Linton well enough to receive visitors? I'd like to—Oh my goodness! Who spilled a vat of liquid manure in the room?"

I sent my little sister an affronted look. "Now listen here! The stench of liquid manure can in no way compare with the deadly olfactory danger that is my Berty's dirty diaper!"

"Um..." Eve raised a cautious hand. "I'm not really sure that's something to be proud of?"

"Hey! That's my son, and I'll be proud of him in whatever way I want, thank you very much!"

"Son? Son?" Ella's face lit up at the words, and, rushing over to the table, she promptly forgot all about looking for her severely wounded brother. "Oh, my little nephew is here! And he made a little poo-poo? What a good boy! So smart!"

I sent a smug look at Eve, who acknowledged her defeat with a nod. "I stand corrected."

Then she hastily backed away from the table. Patsy and Flora were quick on the uptake, following her example and retreating. Ella, blissfully ignorant of what was happening around her, continued tickling little Berty, making baby noises and pulling funny faces. Then, without hesitation, she opened the door to hell—also known as "diaper"—and the unholy stench of the abyss permeated the room.

"Do you think she'll notice if we leave?" whispered a voice that was definitely not mine. Definitely. After all, how could I wish to flee from my little darling?