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Moraine Foulkes-Davenport

[1838/1839][EN]Laughter is the best cure... no, weed. Weed is the best cure

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8th of September – Delano and Moraine’s house in Canada

 

 

It was her birthday, not that she cared very much, although she had spent the day out with some of the other wives she’d met in Canada, wives of Delano’s colleagues that she’d gotten to know almost by default. Because it was expected, because he expected it, because what else was she going to do, sit at home alone all day as she did most days? She had not made a thing out of it, but they’d had some cake and some wine and some gossip, which she supposed had been fun after a fashion, and then she’d gone back home to not have fun whatsoever at all anymore until her next outing. Honestly, she had no idea whether Delano knew it was her birthday. Didn’t care, either. Wasn’t like she needed or wanted his well wishes or anything. But some of her friends had sent her presents, most of her friends from back in England actually.

 

Not Gideon or Kai. Of course not. That was a long gone past. Admittedly, even in the past they had sometimes forgotten her birthday. Ahem. She’d sent them both maple syrup whisky. But no cards. They’d drink it and ignore that it was hers, she was pretty sure. Wren’d sent a card with a picture of her and her brother in it, though, so that was nice and gut-wrenching. And then there was a card from Jude, a cake from Cassidy, plates from Elaine, which she put the cake from Cassidy on, because that meant that Delano wouldn’t like it. Sleeping draught, which she put away neatly for those nights she would really need it more than she otherwise might. And a beautiful bouquet of roses which smelled lovely. She put it all away, didn’t want Delano to see it, comment on it or otherwise ruin it, and went to cook him dinner. The roses she put on the counter, they were innocuous enough.

 

She was making lasagna, and somewhere along the lines, that turned into a hilarious endeavour, so that when her husband came home, he found her giggling over the parmigiano. “Say cheese!” she laughed at him, which was of course brilliant, and she put his starter in front of him and collapsed into more giggling on her way back to the kitchen.

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