Dinner as promised, tasted superb. The pumpkin soup was exquisitely cooked as only New Zealanders know how, despite the noble attempts of others to better it. Henrietta’s catering skills had much to do with it. North seemed besotted with her, oblivious to the veiled snorts of laughter his flatmates suppressed when she referred to him as ‘Peteepoos’ and ‘Glove Puppet.’
Boris raised his eyebrows in such a look of intrigue when Henrietta asked ‘Glove Puppet’ for the salt, Hana dropped her spoon into the soup. A glob ricocheted onto Logan’s chin and her eyes widened in horror. He wrinkled his nose with indignation and wiped it off, but she saw the amusement in his face and masked her giggle as a cough.
Henrietta set dessert on the table with such a flourish, it wibbled and wobbled and almost
