Fiona wakes early, several minutes before the alarm is due to go off,
as has become her habit lately. A belligerent sun claws fiercely at
the blinds, outside birds sing their joy at the marvel of a new day.
Beside her, her husband snores into his pillow, sleeping the sleep of
the just and satisfied.
“Let him sleep,” she thinks, “He deserves it.” Robert had
come in late the night before, or maybe it was early this morning,
muttering something about pot-holes at the museum. He'd barely
managed to undress before collapsing into a deep stupor. For a
moment Fiona wishes she could remember more, but he's woken her from
a conversation with the King of the Sandmen, a conversation she's
been eager to return to. “Never mind,” she thinks, “I'll just
ask him later.”
After gently kissing his shoulder she rises, showers quickly, dresses
and heads downstairs to the kitchen. As usual she arrives to find
Raven sat at the table, a large glass of orange juice and steaming
mug of coffee before him.
“Morning Boss,” he says when she enters, pushing the cup toward
her.
“Good morning,” she replies, lifting the mug to her lips for a
long, satisfying slurp. “What's on our ticket today?”
“There are reports,” he says uncertainly, “Of a Popular
Misconception stalking the industrial estate.”
Another mouthful of coffee. “I'm sensing a 'but'?” she
asks, pulling her jacket over her shoulders.
“These reports,” he tells her, reaching for the back door,
“They're mainly from the wasps.”
“Oh,” is her only response, her heart sinking in her chest. It's
going to be a difficult day, she can tell.
