Hot and Knitty
Quill is not at all flustered by her new neighbour
“What are you doing?” Biscuit asked me. I jumped and spilled tea over my hand then glared at Biscuit.
“I was looking for something.” I told him sharply.
“And was that something behind the curtain?” He wondered, his little dragon eyes lighting up with delight as he trotted along the back of the sofa to look out of the window.
“No.” I glowered as Biscuit studied the scene outside.
“Are you sure?” He teased. “You’ve only been looking for twenty minutes.” I gaped at him, surely it hadn’t been that long? Two minutes at most! Biscuit laughed when he saw I’d believed him so I looked out of the window again and then tutted and fixed my eyes firmly on the fireplace.
“I see Geoffrey’s getting some knitting done in the garden while the weather’s nice.” Biscuit observed beatifically. I tried to remember that mugs are likely to break if you throw them at annoying, little dragons. His little eyes slid to me, he was barely containing the laughter. “Were you watching Geoffrey?”
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“No!” I exclaimed like a teenager accused of having a crush by a drunk uncle. I took a deep breath to calm myself, I was aware I was being ridiculous. “I just came in here to look for my lip balm and then I forgot what it was I was looking for and so I stopped to look out of the window while I remembered.”
“And saw Geoffrey.” Biscuit noted, as delighted as a teenager whose drunk uncle has fallen into a pond. I rolled my eyes.
“I was just trying to guess what he was making!” I countered heatedly.
“Hidden behind the curtain?” Biscuit considered this and shook his head. “I’m sure Geoffrey would have happily told you if you’d opened the window and asked him.” I had no answer for this so I ignored it and rubbed my forehead with my free hand.
“Geoffrey’s rolled his shirt sleeves back.” Biscuit noted, his tone too gleeful.
“It’s a warm day.” I replied in what I thought was a quelling tone but it only made Biscuit laugh.
“Look how even his stitches are.” Biscuit marvelled, enjoying himself much too much at my expense. “And how quickly he’s working those knit-one-purl-ones!”
“What is your point?” I demanded. Biscuit hopped to the windowsill, chuckling as he curled his little tail around his toes.
“I know what you’re thinking about.” Biscuit sang like a child on a playground.
“I’m thinking about where my lip balm is.” I replied sternly. Biscuit glanced back at Geoffrey for a moment before grinning at me.
“Are you sure?” He evidently hadn’t believed me. I remembered why I tried not to argue with people who knew me too well. “Are you sure you’re not thinking about ‘dexterous fingers’ and ‘muscles straining as they work’?” I was so overwrought by this point, I put my mug down on the sideboard without a coaster!
“You should stop reading those kinds of books.” I told him crossly. “They’re giving you ideas.”
“Aren’t Geoffrey’s forearms giving you ideas?” Biscuit shot back.
“It’s the HRT!” I exclaimed quickly but Biscuit was chuckling as he reached for the latch on the window. “It’s new, I just need time to get used to it, I…” He threw the window open.
“Hi Geoffrey!” He called as our neighbour looked up at the sound of the window opening. I watched as he lowered his knitting and lifted his hand to wave at us. Words like ‘sinews’ and ‘glistening’ and ‘roped with muscle’ and ‘coiled tension’ jumbled together in my head. “Quill was wondering what you were making.” And Biscuit looked delighted as he turned his enormous smile towards me.
“It’s oven gloves.” Geoffrey answered as I stepped awkwardly from behind the curtain, a hot flush burning through my entire body as I waved a little greeting back at him.
“It’s a lovely colour yarn.” I replied feebly. Geoffrey gave a little smile.
“I’m glad you like it.” He said, looking closely at the stitches on his needle. “I noticed you did a lot of baking and thought you might like a spare pair.” The sun was evidently warmer than I’d realised, his cheeks had already turned a little pink.
“That’s kind.” I answered, glad of the open window for the cooling breeze it provided my menopausal body. He gave a little shrug of British discomfort with thanks. “Remember to cover up, you’re catching the sun.” I added thanks to having not a clue what else to say. I heard Biscuit laugh and turned to glare at him while Geoffrey went back to his knitting.
“Your lip balm is in your pocket, by the way.” Biscuit told me, beaming. I was sure I’d checked there!
“Thank you.” I said as I discovered the little plastic tub exactly where he’d said it would be. Biscuit was as smug as I’d ever seen him.
“You’re welcome.” He said and curled himself up to sleep in the sunshine.





“Look how even his stitches are.” Oh my....
Kinda seems like 🩷 to me!