So the delightful Ms. Townsend has been hinting that she’d quite like to see a new Felicita and Jannik book from me. And always I’m just kinda eh I can’t think of anything.
Apparently I just need to give my brain time to play, because I woke up this morning with a conversation in my head, and the start of a new book.
Will it go anywhere? No idea. But I don’t see why that should stop me from starting, if ya know what I mean.
And anyway, I intend to have fun with this one. Usual disclaimers about first draft kakness etc.
The house on Ivy is not at all what I expected. Modern and white-faced and drab. I glance across the carriage at Jannik, who remains expressionless. “This is House Guyin?”
He shifts, puts one hand against the leather of the seat, preparing to stand. “Apparently so.”
The stupid dress I’m wearing makes it damned near impossible to exit the carriage with any dignity, although I do a passable imitation, I suppose. Jannik takes my hand and helps me down from the little step, and the emerald taffety of the horrendous dress crunches.
“I feel,” I say, “like an enormous idiot.”
“Only you look rather like an enormous hand-bell.”
I want to draw them – eeh they are being so cute I don’t even.