Amelia set down her cutlery and rose from her chair. Instead of standing over David, she moved around the table and lowered herself beside him, kneeling so she was at his level. The boy turned his head away, as though refusing eye contact might make her disappear.
“David,” she said gently.
“No,” he replied at once.
“You have not even heard my question,” Amelia said lightly.
“No.” David crossed his arms.
Amelia blinked slowly. “I admire your commitment to consistency.”
David continued staring resolutely at the wall as if it had personally wronged him. Valerie, seated further down the table, glanced at her napkin in a way that suggested she might be hiding amusement behind propriety.
Amelia suspected she was not imagining it. “Why do you not wish to eat your porridge?” she asked.
“It is porridge,” David replied, as though that explained everything necessary about it.
“I see,” Amelia said thoughtfully.
“It is horrible.”
“It contains honey.” Amelia glanced briefly towards Gabriel, who was watching the exchange with an expression that suggested he remained unconvinced by any of her methods thus far.
Perfect. Absolutely no pressure at all.
She returned her attention to David.
“What if you eat three spoonfuls?” she asked.
“No.”
“Two spoonfuls?”
“No.”
“One spoonful?”
“No.”
David, Amelia observed, possessed the negotiation skills of a man trained in matters of great political importance. Unfortunately for him, his current opponent was breakfast.
She rose slowly, considering her options, then allowed a moment of inspiration to settle.
“Very well,” she said, stepping back.
David looked at her with immediate suspicion.
Amelia placed a hand dramatically over her chest. “I shall be forced to eat it myself.”
David blinked. “What?”
“It is the only solution,” she continued gravely, as though this were a genuine crisis requiring sacrifice.
She picked up the spoon. Valerie looked up properly now, openly interested despite herself. Even Gabriel’s gaze sharpened slightly, his attention fixed in a way that suggested he was waiting to see whether she had lost her senses entirely.
Amelia examined the porridge with solemn seriousness, as though preparing for something far more tragic than breakfast. “What a tragedy,” she said softly. “A magnificent bowl of porridge, and you will have none.”
David stared. Amelia lifted the spoon very slowly.
