The Extremely Epic Viking Tale of Yondersaay by Aoife Lennon-Ritchie Page B

chocolates for Dani and Ruairi. She said they could have one thing each. Ruairi hadn’t the slightest idea how he would ever come to a decision.
     
     

     
     
    You would never know by looking at him that Lewis MacAvinney wasn’t just the man who stood behind the counter at the bakery. He also had a medical degree and two PhDs: one in romantic literature, the other in astrophysics.
    “It is my understanding,” Granny had once told Mum, “that when he goes to Germany, they have to call him Herr Doctor Doctor Doctor MacAvinney.”
    “That could get exhausting after a while,” Mum had said.
    “He’s rich too but still as sweet and kind now, as a multimillionaire Doctor Doctor Doctor, as he was when he was the best in his troop of Cub Scouts at helping old people cross the street,” Granny had explained.
    “He would have gotten plenty of practice at that on Yondersaay. Everyone here is ancient ,” Dani had muttered to Ruairi, who burst out laughing.
    “Lewis holds patents for a hundred different inventions,” Granny went on “mostly in the astrophysics field. All the same, you can’t keep a Yondersaay boy away from home for long. You know, he’s constantly developing new and interesting cakes and breads for the shop. I’m not sure any of them have worked as planned so far, but I love it when he tries them out on me.
    “Last I heard, he was working on a raspberry shortcake that sticks its tongue out at you; a coconut crumble that lifts itself up into the shape of a hula dancer, and sings, “Tallulah does the hula in Hawaii,” and crumbles into a pile on the plate. The Current Bun™ with its caffeine-free jolt of energy gives you a little electric shock – I recommend you avoid that one. My favourites are the French sticks that are rude to you, and the “wry” bread that makes droll witticisms about the state of the economy or the shape of your nose.”
    Lewis came over to the Millers’ table with his notebook. “What can I get for you, Granny Miller?” Ruairi liked his voice, it was quiet and kind sounding, and Ruairi saw he made Granny instantly relaxed. Granny tumbled into a heap in a giant armchair and ordered a pot of tea and a raspberry shortcake. When Lewis handed the raspberry shortcake to Granny, he stood and watched it for a minute. It didn’t stick its tongue out at her. Lewis MacAvinney gave a little sigh, and made a note in his notebook.
    Mum hadn’t ordered anything to eat, so Lewis brought her over a plate with samples of about ten different cakes.
    “How come she gets all of that?” Ruairi asked, looking from his limp pain au chocolat to Mum’s massive plate of cakes and back at his pain au chocolat again.
    Lewis gave Mum a big smile and said “Hi,” in a very shy way. Mum looked at him, and he blushed behind his little spectacles, turned away, and went back behind the counter.
    Dani looked anxiously at her mother. Ruairi whispered to Mum, “You don’t think he’s nicer than Dad, do you, Mum?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Ruairi. Of course not. Besides, Lewis is demonstrating the Christmas spirit, nothing more.” Mum looked directly at both Dani and Ruairi as she spoke.
    Dani shrugged and said, “If you say so,” and Mum went to the counter to put in her order for cake and plum pudding for Christmas day.
    While she was gone, Dani and Ruairi stuffed as many of Mum’s cakes into their mouths as they could. Dani poked Ruairi under his arm just as he filled his mouth with a cream bun, which made him snigger and snort cream up his nose. Ruairi’s eyes shot open extrawide midsnigger. Dani followed his gaze out the front window. Standing there, in his hairnet and sausage-skin coat, chattering animatedly with two other men who were behind him in the shadows, jabbing his finger in Ruairi’s direction, was none other than the butcher, Hamish Sinclair.

Dudo Meets Jarl Olaf

     
     
    Ruairi looked at the men and spun around to look behind him. There was no one else near him.