He glanced behind him lazily with a grin, "Ah now, Ambriel! Come on! Catch up!"
They laughed together but she didn't catch up. He was just too fast.
"Oh," Tomlin stopped suddenly. "Let's get a pastry!"
Ambriel nearly bumped into him but managed to side-step and only hit his shoe with her own.
"No," she said, a little breathless. "I want a party!"
"A party!" Tomlin scorned, breathing heavily also. "Darling, that's madness."
"But that is what I want."
They both stood at the bakery and stared into the window at the shelves full of cakes and pies.
"They're so fat," groaned Ambriel.
"You will be too if you keep eating them," he said, and to prove his point, Tomlin poked her stomach. She sighed. "I am. They will have to saw me right down the middle soon, just so I can fit through the doorway."
"How about we get one and share it?"
"Yes."
But they never did because Tomlin dropped it from the bridge when they went to oversee a family of ducks, and the ducks scattered, afraid, and Tomlin said half-heartily, "Ah well, it wasn't a good stew."
They watched the brown paper bag float in the river for a while imagining all sorts of hidden surprises inside until that became boring and Ambriel sat on cross-legged on the ground.
She twisted her straw hat in her delicate hands. "It's not real straw," she told Tomlin. "Did you know they don't make hats out of real straw nowadays?"
Tomlin said, "No, I heard a rumour at the college, but I thought it was just blonde talk."
"It makes me sad."
Ambriel twisted. Tomlin played with the coins in his pockets. "Winter makes me sad," he said.
"I didn't know there was such a thing as fake straw."
"It's all the grey clouds and icy cold fingers and noses. Even with a good stew- even with a fantastic stew," he gave a small, off-beat chuckle, "it's just not a happy time."
"Second told me." Ambriel continued in a sad, depleted tone. "He said Brunei told him that it's cheaper and quicker. I told him that Brunei was an odd man but Second ignored me of course because he has a thing for him, he just about gushes himself every time he gets near. Have you noticed?"
"I can't understand how he works down there, even with the hot chocolate." Tomlin frowned.
"It's mysterious. Like a lie. They are mysterious things, lies, aren't they. They go on and on and on..." her twisting became faster and it caught Tomlin's eye. He watched the straw spin.
"Sometimes they're small and neat and you can forget them. But others are big and tenacious and creep into the corners of you that you thought were closed and clean and set forever-"
"Ambs," Tomlin swiftly reached down and snatched the hat away. She looked up, startled.
"Lies are bumdust," he said. "Fake hats are bumdust, winter is bumdust and the whole sodded lot is butts, ok? But winter becomes spring and lies become truth eventually, at least the big ones, so let's just go and get some ice cream and sit down under a tree on a plastic table cover so if it falls we can lick it right up, ok?"
She brightened, "Ok!"
He smiled cheekily and said, "I'll give you a five count head start." And he tossed the hat into the river.
