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Sitting at the kitchen table, Kitty let her head fall forward and groaned.
There was no response. This, admittedly, wasn’t exactly unexpected, due to Kitty being the only queen in the kitchen, but she still felt a little jab of annoyance.
Why was no one there to witness her general fed-upness?
Sitting up a bit, she tried groaning slightly louder, this time dropping her head into her folded arms for better effect.
She stayed still, counting. One-andtwo-andthree-andfour-
She’d never usually gotten past six before someone was asking her what was wrong- whether it was Jane, all warm concern and offers to make her a cup of tea- or Anne, who currently favoured tugging on her ponytail as a way of getting her cousin’s attention. The other queens were usually just….around, if not all, then at least a few.
Today though, the house was empty, save for Cathy, who had yet to emerge from the writing-nest she’d constructed the night before.
(Making it had been Anne’s suggested solution to the final wife’s terrible quandary of being tired of writing from her bed AND her desk chair AND the sofa AND the table. The construction of the nest had stripped the communal living room of cushions and demolished the once-orderly airing cupboard but the collective relief of the queens at seeing Cathy engage in anything that took her away from her laptop was enough to keep anyone from raising a single word of protest.)
The others had disappeared on various errands of their own, leaving Kitty feeling an odd mixture of restless and wearied, not quite sad, not quite annoyed but altogether out of sorts and at a loss of what to do.
And no one was even doing her the courtesy of being around to witness her suffering.
Kitty wondered whether it was worth turning to twitter to vent her frustration with life in general at the world.
(The fans were always pleasantly eager to join her in support of whatever mood she was in, although she did have to admit that there was always the risk of things going a bit too far. Jane had had to take her aside for a Serious Talk about social responsibility after the last time, although Kitty maintained it wasn’t really her fault.
She’d only been mostly joking about being curious about what weed was like, and she’d DEFINITELY not expected to wake up the morning after to an inbox flooded with teenagers over-eager to help satiate said curiosity.
As far as she was concerned, the policewoman who’d gotten in touch with Jane was just being a snitch.)
‘The ducks back-’
Kitty was interrupted in her hunt for her phone by the entrance of a sleepy-looking slightly dishevelled Cathy, Aragon’s big cardigan dwarfing her and an empty coffee mug in hand.
‘What?’
Cathy deposited her mug in the sink and turned the kettle on and pointed out of the kitchen window into the back garden.
‘The duck. The duck is back.’
‘What- Oh!’
Following Cathy’s pointing sweater-paw, Kitty’s eyes lighted on the mallard from the previous week investigating the seed packets Jane had left out with its beak.
‘What are you doing anyway? I heard groaning.’
‘I hate everything today-’ Kitty tried another dramatic flop and Cathy giggled.
‘Fair enough. Any particular reason I can help with?’
‘No. And it’s not funny. I am SO bored and there is NOTHING I want to do.’
‘Sorry Kit.’ Cathy straightened her face. ‘Is the kitchen off limits or can I still get coffee?’
Kitty considered for a moment. ‘Coffee’s fine. But it’s not moping. It’s existential despair.’
‘Oh snap!’ Cathy held up a hand for a high five and Kitty automatically returned it, before considering that high fives were utterly inappropriate for despair. ‘Do you want coffee?’
‘No.’
‘Hot chocolate?’
‘No.’
‘Wow you really are in crisis.’ Cathy tilted her head. ‘You know, they say watching wildlife is meant to help with that. And fresh air. You could go have existential despair in the garden, it might make you feel better.’
Kitty shook her head. ‘No. You sound like Anna. SHE tried to make me go on a run with her….’
‘Ok. Sorry. I shall get my coffee and leave you to your existential crisis in peace. As long as I’m still allowed in the kitchen. I feel like I’m going to want to get a crumpet in about half an hour….’
‘Thank you. And getting a crumpet is fine as long as you promise not to try to cheer me up.’
Cathy held up her right hand, littlest finger crooked. ‘Promise.’
Kitty hooked it with her own and they shook on it. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’
Waiting for the kettle to boil, Cathy moved to lean against the sink and watch the progress of the duck, and Kitty found herself watching too.
‘No entourage-’
‘Oh they’ll be around’ Cathy shrugged ‘If they aren’t already. They’re never usually without some of their ducklings at least- Look, there’s one in the heely-’
A small cheeping brown and yellow ball of fluff poked its head out of one of Anne’s discarded mud-covered heelies (‘And you said I couldn’t skate in a rainstorm!’ ‘I never said you COULDN’T, Anne- I said you SHOULDN’T’ ‘....Oh.’)
‘Oh yeah…. What’s it doing?’
‘Duck stuff.’ Cathy started spooning instant coffee into her ‘EAT. SLEEP. READ. REPEAT. Mug- after four spoons, Kitty gave her a pointed look and Cathy huffed and tipped the fifth spoonful back into the jar. ‘Top secret, probably. Not for the likes of us.’
Kitty abandoned her phone hunt.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well-’ Cathy looked at her. ‘Just that no one actually really knows what ducks spend their days doing- no one really follows them, no one checks up on them- I know wildlife people would SAY we know but….’ She gave Kitty a Look. ‘Do they really? Has anyone ever actually watched to see how a duck spends it’s time?’
‘I mean….’
‘No.’ Cathy answered herself. ‘They haven’t. Or probably not. I haven’t googled it or anything. Just- I think it means that we’re not meant to know. Forbidden knowledge. Too much for our tiny human minds to comprehend.’
‘Right, that’s it-’ Kitty pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘You can stop.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t what me, Lady Parr, I know your tricks. You’ve reverse-psychologied me into really wanting to find out- even though I KNOW the answer is probably just walk around and peck at stuff…. And now I’m going to have to go sit outside in the sun and fresh air and watch this duck rather than wallow here like I wanted-’ Kitty pulled on her shoes morosely. ‘And it probably WILL cheer me up because you know how I feel about ducklings- and I specifically SAID I didn’t want to be cheered up!’ She wrenched open the back door and glowered at Cathy one last time before yanking it shut.
Cathy smiled serenely and helped herself to a crumpet.