War And Peas*

“I’ve got a job for you,” Mum says.

“What is it?” I say.

“It’s your favourite job,” Mum says, in that excited tone of voice that she uses when she thinks she’s going to be able to persuade me to do something.  The tone of voice that means this is a fun thing I’ve invented for you to do as a treat.  Presumably the job is shelling-the-peas.

“Why don’t you go outside,” Mum says.  So, am sitting outside, awaiting the arrival of the pea pods.

The panther lies on the ground next to me, dozing.  Every so often he twitches his ear.  He likes it here in the parental garden.

Ah, here are the peas.  Had better shell them or there won’t be any dinner.  Have even attached a photo of them in their natural state.

Happy Friday everyone!
1997.  By Jane Churchill.  Cozy murder mystery.

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