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girlyswotThis is the first chapter in what I hope will be a fairly lengthy fic (I already have 50,000 words written). Although this first chapter follows immediately on from the events of Run Away Home, the majority of the story happens after the twins have left school. Since they will be adults, you can expect some adult themes (by which I mean sex) though I'm happy to tell you that I have no intention of describing anything in detail, using 'adult' language or of including any slash pairings.
All the Marlows, Merricks and Kingscote characters are, of course, the property of Antonia Forest. This story is only for personal use and should not be distributed without the author's permission. No profits are being made from this fiction.
Enjoy - and if you do, please leave a comment!
Up in Sara Crewe, Nicola discovered that Ginty had already been and gone, stowing her stuff erratically in her chest of drawers and plonking a whole lot of posh new bath stuff above the sink. Huh, thought Nicola and wondered, briefly, whether Patrick had spoken to Ginty yet. She completed her own unpacking swiftly, decided that someone else could take Ann's things down to her this time and climbed out on to the roof to meet Miranda.
'Miserable term, I call it.' Miranda offered Nicola a square of toffee and leaned back against the chimney.
'Mmm. Why, exactly?' enquired Nicola through her muffled chewing.
'No netball. No cricket. No Play. Just dull weather and dull lessons and general dullness. Oh, well. How was your Christmas? Did you wear the dress?'
Nicola nodded, very glad that she had indeed remembered Miranda's fabulous cream silk party dress in time for the Merrick's Twelfth Night bash. 'It was marvellous. Giles was home. Ma had to go over to Paris in case Grandmother was ill so we had Christmas Day on the beach.'
Miranda looked flabbergasted. 'So you haven't seen your parents at all?'
'Oh yes. Mum came home on Tuesday. But mainly it was just us and Patrick. And no Ginty.' Suddenly she decided she'd better change the subject. Even Miranda didn't need to know about Nicola's terror-filled days wondering whether Peter and Giles would ever come back.
'No Ginty? Oh, yes. She went to stay with Monica, didn't she? I must say I'm glad she's back in our bedroom instead of that awful Wendy Tredgold. Look, there's Tim and Lawrie. Shall we go and say hi?'
Miranda's prediction had proved depressingly accurate, reflected Nicola, three days before half-term. A week into term Ginty received a letter which made her dissolve into simply floods of tears at the breakfast table and shoot dagger looks at Nicola ever since. Secretly, Nicola thought Gin was rather more relieved than upset, but she was certainly enjoying the sympathy of that wet crowd she went around with. Anyway, she'd thought it advisable to keep her holiday plans vague. She was travelling up to London with Miranda but it was Patrick who'd invited her to stay. 'We can go up to Greenwich on the river, if you like. And visit the London dungeons – nice and educational, that is. Pa says he'll probably be able to get away on Wednesday so you'll have the rest of the week with your folks.'
It would be fun to be back in London but it felt a bit strange to be going home, now that other people were living there, even if it was only the Merricks. Still, she'd be glad of four days without Ginty. And maybe, so long as Gin went on thinking she was staying with Miranda, the hoo-ha would all be over when she got home.
'Daddy says he'll be here about one o'clock and would we like to go out for lunch?' reported Miranda after opening her letter. Nicola nodded enthusiastically. Lunch with Miranda's father was bound to be somewhere super-special. 'Good. What time d'you have to be in Hampstead?'
Nicola looked round instinctively to check that Gin was a safe distance away on the Upper Fifth table before replying.
'Any time. I told Patrick it'd probably be latish afternoon but I don't think it matters too much.'
'Okay. Nick?' Miranda sounded uncharacteristically nervous.
'What?' She helped herself to another slice of toast and marmalade.
'Could I… would you…' Nicola stopped chewing and looked at her curiously.
'What?' she repeated.
'It's just me being madly curious. Can I meet Patrick? When we drop you off?'
Nicola, taken aback somewhat, thought about it. 'Yes, I don't see why not. But you do know he's just a friend?' She frowned warningly.
'Oh yes.' Miranda nodded vigorously. 'It's just… I can't imagine what on earth someone who's your friend and who was Ginty's boyfriend can possibly be like.'
'Shy,' replied Nicola bluntly. 'He hates meeting new people. So I won't tell him. You can just be there when I ring the doorbell and then he'll have to meet you. Okay?'
'Yes. So then, when I come and stay with you in the holidays, I won't be a strange person and he won't have to mind meeting me.'
Privately, Nicola wasn’t at all sure that Patrick would enjoy having Miranda along. Still, she smiled and nodded and finished her breakfast.
Rowan arrived promptly on Saturday. Nicola collected the bag of home clothes she'd brought and stayed to ask after the farm and family and animals.
'Oh here. For you. From Edwin.' Rowan handed over a thick envelope.
'Thanks. Rowan?'
'Mmm?'
'Gin thinks I'm spending half-term with Miranda. You won't let on, will you?'
Rowan eyed her speculatively.
'I won't. But I don't see how I can stop Ma. She's certain to find out, you know. Much better make a clean breast.'
Nicola chewed her lip.
'Maybe… But she's been so awful since Patrick chucked her. I just think it'd be better to let things drop.'
'Your funeral,' said Rowan, cheerfully. 'Come on, you lot,' she called to her dawdling sisters. 'Have fun,' she added to Nicola.
Mr West insisted on taking the girls to a smart restaurant in Wade Abbas before driving them back to London. He politely enquired after Nicola's family, her work and the teams she was in. Then he produced a trinket that he had brought especially to show her, remembering her interest in all things naval.
'Gosh!' said Nicola, utterly charmed. It was an ivory plaque, no more than an inch wide and two inches long, on which was carved an exquisitely drawn ship with 'Able Seaman Potter, HMS Indefatigable, 1811' scratched on the reverse. 'How utterly super.'
'I hoped you would like it.'
'Oh yes. You can just imagine him below decks, whittling away at it, then wrapping it up and stowing it carefully when he went on watch. How marvellous. It must be his ship.' She turned it over again and inspected the vessel carefully, counting masts and sails. 'Yes, I'm sure it is.' She made as if to hand it back to Mr West.
'No, no. It is yours. I brought it especially for you.'
'But I can't possibly. I'm sure Ma would say I couldn't.'
'Please. It is of no value to me. It was not expensive, I assure you.' Nicola privately thought her mother's view of what was expensive would be somewhat different from Mr West's. But she couldn't think of a way of refusing it without offending the kindly, earnest father of her friend.
'Well, if you're absolutely certain?'
'Of course. That is settled then. Here, put it in this little box.'
They pulled up outside the familiar house, Nicola's eyes alert for Merrick changes to the Marlow residence. She nipped out of the car with Miranda following swiftly at her heels. Together they made their way up the tiled path but before Nicola could reach up to the bell, the door was opened and Patrick grinned down at them.
'Hullo Nick.'
'Hullo. This is my friend Miranda. Her father gave me a lift.'
He nodded a greeting to Miranda, wondering why her face was so familiar to him. Noticing the intent way she looked back at him, suddenly he realised.
'You were the angel. In the Play last year. In the Minster. You walked with Nick.'
For the first time, he saw Miranda smile. 'Yes. Well remembered.'
He smiled back and Nicola heaved a huge inward sigh of relief.
'Right. Well, thanks for the lift.' She began to say her goodbye but tailed off, hearing Patrick, of all people, asking Miranda if she'd care to join them on Monday.
'Pa's offered to take Nick and me to the House. Show us around a bit, give us lunch and then let us up to the Strangers' Gallery. Why don't you come?'
'We-ll?' Miranda shot a questioning look at her friend. 'Nick?'
'Sorry.' Nicola came to herself. 'Of course come. If you're not doing anything?'
'Nothing I can't do any other time I don't expect. Look, why don't you ring me tomorrow and I'll see if it's okay my end and you can check with your father, Patrick.'
'Yes, great,' replied Nicola. 'I think your father's getting a bit itchy, Miranda.'
'Goodness me, I must run. Nice to meet you, Patrick. See you, Nick!' And she was gone.
'What did she mean, “check with my father”’ enquired Patrick.
'That he doesn't mind her being Jewish. Some people do, apparently. Well, I know they do. One or two low types at school.'
'How ghastly for her. Come on in, then. D'you want your old room? I thought you probably would. And then I'll show you every single thing we've changed so's you can moan about it properly all at once, yes?'
Over tea, Mrs Merrick politely enquired whether Nicola would like to join them at church on Sunday morning. Nicola murmured her excuses and wondered whether she ought, for old time's sake, to find her way to Matins with old Father Whyte-Burrows.
'Well, in that case, we'll go to early service so that I can be back in time to cook lunch.'
'Please don't go to any trouble for my sake,' said an embarrassed Nicola.
'Nonsense, Nick. It won't be any trouble. It'll be good for Pat to lever himself out of bed early on a Sunday.' Mr Merrick winked at Patrick who grimaced back.
Sunday afternoon passed pleasurably with Bucket on the Heath though she could see Patrick longing to feel a hawk on his fist. She hadn't thought about Sprog, her own merlin, for ages but there was something about being back in London and with Patrick which made her feel the loss acutely.
'D'you miss school at all?'
'Not at all,' he grinned. 'Mind you, I could do without this tutor-fellow. Positively slave-driving. That's what it feels like anyway. It's all here's one you've done so here's another hundred to do by tomorrow. Still, I have to admit my maths is starting to make marginally more sense. And he thinks History counts as a proper subject. So he's persuaded my pa to ask the Broomhill chap to let me take History and French A's. Which will be more manageable. But it's all so pointless.'
'How?'
'Well. All's I'm going to do is run the estate. And before that, nothing I'm in the least likely to do's going to need A-levels.'
'What d'you think you might do?'
They were sitting under a huge oak tree, half-heartedly throwing sticks for Bucket.
He stretched out and sighed. 'Join up, p'raps. Or become a jockey. Or a falconer. Or a gardener.'
'A gardener?'
'Well, p'raps not. I wish I knew.' He paused, selecting a juicy looking grass stem to chew. 'Did you mind me inviting Miranda tomorrow?'
'No. Just surprised. I didn't think you'd like her.'
'Not sure I do. Well, obviously I've only just met her. But she looks… interesting.'
'Interesting how?'
'She reminds me of Regina.'
'Yes.' Nicola, without quite knowing why, thought this made complete sense. 'And anyway, it'll make it easier if Gin asks.'
'If Gin asks what?' His tone was casually detached.
'Oh. Well it's just that Gin thinks I'm staying with Miranda and I sort of didn't tell her I wasn't.'
'Girls!' Patrick dismissed the whole sex in an expansive gesture. 'Has she been completely foul?'
Family loyalty warred with friendship and, for once, friendship won. 'Completely. Floods of tears when she got your letter. And of course, those asses she hangs round with all terribly sympathetic so she's been eking it out for months. And shooting dagger looks at me every time she sees me and barely civil if we have to speak. Goodness knows what she thinks I've done except go on being friends with you. Which is a bit much seeing as we were friends first.'
Patrick slid his gaze round to contemplate Nicola's outraged face but decided this was not the moment for enlightenment.
'Goodness knows,' he echoed. 'Shall we fetch Bucket and go home? There's a rather good film on tonight I thought we might watch, if you like?'
'So long as it doesn't have ghosts in it?'
'No, no. Just lots of nice ordinary battles and blood and gory corpses everywhere.'
'Oh well, I don't mind that.'
He grinned at her and she smiled back and they walked home in total accord.
Mr Merrick insisted on taking Nicola home first. Patrick got out of the car when they reached Trennels and walked her up to the back door.
'Thanks. Shall I see you tomorrow?'
'Be in the hawk garden at six thirty?'
'Oke. Bye Patrick.'
'Bye.' And then, without thinking, he bent and kissed her cheek.
'Sorry. I… Sorry.' His face was flushed deep red and Nicola felt her own cheeks growing hot.
'Yes, um… I'll see you tomorrow.' And she fled.
Mr Merrick's mouth was determinedly not smiling as he handed the telephone to Patrick.
'For you. Nicola.'
'Oh. Thanks.' Patrick waited until the room was empty.
'Hullo Nick. Everything alright?'
'Not really. Gin saw you saying goodbye to me.'
'Oh.'
'So then we had a tremendous row and then I slapped her and so now I'm grounded tomorrow. Sorry.'
'Oh gosh. I'm so terribly sorry, Nick.'
'That's alright. Patrick?'
'Mmm?'
'Why did you do it?'
There was no reply.
'Patrick? Are you still there?'
'Yes. Sorry. I don't know really. It just seemed the right thing at the time. I didn't plan it. My Ma and Pa are desperately pretending they didn't see and aren't madly curious. I think prob we'd better forget it ever happened.'
'Yes,' said a relieved Nicola. 'I'll see you on Friday then.'
All the Marlows, Merricks and Kingscote characters are, of course, the property of Antonia Forest. This story is only for personal use and should not be distributed without the author's permission. No profits are being made from this fiction.
Enjoy - and if you do, please leave a comment!
Up in Sara Crewe, Nicola discovered that Ginty had already been and gone, stowing her stuff erratically in her chest of drawers and plonking a whole lot of posh new bath stuff above the sink. Huh, thought Nicola and wondered, briefly, whether Patrick had spoken to Ginty yet. She completed her own unpacking swiftly, decided that someone else could take Ann's things down to her this time and climbed out on to the roof to meet Miranda.
'Miserable term, I call it.' Miranda offered Nicola a square of toffee and leaned back against the chimney.
'Mmm. Why, exactly?' enquired Nicola through her muffled chewing.
'No netball. No cricket. No Play. Just dull weather and dull lessons and general dullness. Oh, well. How was your Christmas? Did you wear the dress?'
Nicola nodded, very glad that she had indeed remembered Miranda's fabulous cream silk party dress in time for the Merrick's Twelfth Night bash. 'It was marvellous. Giles was home. Ma had to go over to Paris in case Grandmother was ill so we had Christmas Day on the beach.'
Miranda looked flabbergasted. 'So you haven't seen your parents at all?'
'Oh yes. Mum came home on Tuesday. But mainly it was just us and Patrick. And no Ginty.' Suddenly she decided she'd better change the subject. Even Miranda didn't need to know about Nicola's terror-filled days wondering whether Peter and Giles would ever come back.
'No Ginty? Oh, yes. She went to stay with Monica, didn't she? I must say I'm glad she's back in our bedroom instead of that awful Wendy Tredgold. Look, there's Tim and Lawrie. Shall we go and say hi?'
Miranda's prediction had proved depressingly accurate, reflected Nicola, three days before half-term. A week into term Ginty received a letter which made her dissolve into simply floods of tears at the breakfast table and shoot dagger looks at Nicola ever since. Secretly, Nicola thought Gin was rather more relieved than upset, but she was certainly enjoying the sympathy of that wet crowd she went around with. Anyway, she'd thought it advisable to keep her holiday plans vague. She was travelling up to London with Miranda but it was Patrick who'd invited her to stay. 'We can go up to Greenwich on the river, if you like. And visit the London dungeons – nice and educational, that is. Pa says he'll probably be able to get away on Wednesday so you'll have the rest of the week with your folks.'
It would be fun to be back in London but it felt a bit strange to be going home, now that other people were living there, even if it was only the Merricks. Still, she'd be glad of four days without Ginty. And maybe, so long as Gin went on thinking she was staying with Miranda, the hoo-ha would all be over when she got home.
'Daddy says he'll be here about one o'clock and would we like to go out for lunch?' reported Miranda after opening her letter. Nicola nodded enthusiastically. Lunch with Miranda's father was bound to be somewhere super-special. 'Good. What time d'you have to be in Hampstead?'
Nicola looked round instinctively to check that Gin was a safe distance away on the Upper Fifth table before replying.
'Any time. I told Patrick it'd probably be latish afternoon but I don't think it matters too much.'
'Okay. Nick?' Miranda sounded uncharacteristically nervous.
'What?' She helped herself to another slice of toast and marmalade.
'Could I… would you…' Nicola stopped chewing and looked at her curiously.
'What?' she repeated.
'It's just me being madly curious. Can I meet Patrick? When we drop you off?'
Nicola, taken aback somewhat, thought about it. 'Yes, I don't see why not. But you do know he's just a friend?' She frowned warningly.
'Oh yes.' Miranda nodded vigorously. 'It's just… I can't imagine what on earth someone who's your friend and who was Ginty's boyfriend can possibly be like.'
'Shy,' replied Nicola bluntly. 'He hates meeting new people. So I won't tell him. You can just be there when I ring the doorbell and then he'll have to meet you. Okay?'
'Yes. So then, when I come and stay with you in the holidays, I won't be a strange person and he won't have to mind meeting me.'
Privately, Nicola wasn’t at all sure that Patrick would enjoy having Miranda along. Still, she smiled and nodded and finished her breakfast.
Rowan arrived promptly on Saturday. Nicola collected the bag of home clothes she'd brought and stayed to ask after the farm and family and animals.
'Oh here. For you. From Edwin.' Rowan handed over a thick envelope.
'Thanks. Rowan?'
'Mmm?'
'Gin thinks I'm spending half-term with Miranda. You won't let on, will you?'
Rowan eyed her speculatively.
'I won't. But I don't see how I can stop Ma. She's certain to find out, you know. Much better make a clean breast.'
Nicola chewed her lip.
'Maybe… But she's been so awful since Patrick chucked her. I just think it'd be better to let things drop.'
'Your funeral,' said Rowan, cheerfully. 'Come on, you lot,' she called to her dawdling sisters. 'Have fun,' she added to Nicola.
Mr West insisted on taking the girls to a smart restaurant in Wade Abbas before driving them back to London. He politely enquired after Nicola's family, her work and the teams she was in. Then he produced a trinket that he had brought especially to show her, remembering her interest in all things naval.
'Gosh!' said Nicola, utterly charmed. It was an ivory plaque, no more than an inch wide and two inches long, on which was carved an exquisitely drawn ship with 'Able Seaman Potter, HMS Indefatigable, 1811' scratched on the reverse. 'How utterly super.'
'I hoped you would like it.'
'Oh yes. You can just imagine him below decks, whittling away at it, then wrapping it up and stowing it carefully when he went on watch. How marvellous. It must be his ship.' She turned it over again and inspected the vessel carefully, counting masts and sails. 'Yes, I'm sure it is.' She made as if to hand it back to Mr West.
'No, no. It is yours. I brought it especially for you.'
'But I can't possibly. I'm sure Ma would say I couldn't.'
'Please. It is of no value to me. It was not expensive, I assure you.' Nicola privately thought her mother's view of what was expensive would be somewhat different from Mr West's. But she couldn't think of a way of refusing it without offending the kindly, earnest father of her friend.
'Well, if you're absolutely certain?'
'Of course. That is settled then. Here, put it in this little box.'
They pulled up outside the familiar house, Nicola's eyes alert for Merrick changes to the Marlow residence. She nipped out of the car with Miranda following swiftly at her heels. Together they made their way up the tiled path but before Nicola could reach up to the bell, the door was opened and Patrick grinned down at them.
'Hullo Nick.'
'Hullo. This is my friend Miranda. Her father gave me a lift.'
He nodded a greeting to Miranda, wondering why her face was so familiar to him. Noticing the intent way she looked back at him, suddenly he realised.
'You were the angel. In the Play last year. In the Minster. You walked with Nick.'
For the first time, he saw Miranda smile. 'Yes. Well remembered.'
He smiled back and Nicola heaved a huge inward sigh of relief.
'Right. Well, thanks for the lift.' She began to say her goodbye but tailed off, hearing Patrick, of all people, asking Miranda if she'd care to join them on Monday.
'Pa's offered to take Nick and me to the House. Show us around a bit, give us lunch and then let us up to the Strangers' Gallery. Why don't you come?'
'We-ll?' Miranda shot a questioning look at her friend. 'Nick?'
'Sorry.' Nicola came to herself. 'Of course come. If you're not doing anything?'
'Nothing I can't do any other time I don't expect. Look, why don't you ring me tomorrow and I'll see if it's okay my end and you can check with your father, Patrick.'
'Yes, great,' replied Nicola. 'I think your father's getting a bit itchy, Miranda.'
'Goodness me, I must run. Nice to meet you, Patrick. See you, Nick!' And she was gone.
'What did she mean, “check with my father”’ enquired Patrick.
'That he doesn't mind her being Jewish. Some people do, apparently. Well, I know they do. One or two low types at school.'
'How ghastly for her. Come on in, then. D'you want your old room? I thought you probably would. And then I'll show you every single thing we've changed so's you can moan about it properly all at once, yes?'
Over tea, Mrs Merrick politely enquired whether Nicola would like to join them at church on Sunday morning. Nicola murmured her excuses and wondered whether she ought, for old time's sake, to find her way to Matins with old Father Whyte-Burrows.
'Well, in that case, we'll go to early service so that I can be back in time to cook lunch.'
'Please don't go to any trouble for my sake,' said an embarrassed Nicola.
'Nonsense, Nick. It won't be any trouble. It'll be good for Pat to lever himself out of bed early on a Sunday.' Mr Merrick winked at Patrick who grimaced back.
Sunday afternoon passed pleasurably with Bucket on the Heath though she could see Patrick longing to feel a hawk on his fist. She hadn't thought about Sprog, her own merlin, for ages but there was something about being back in London and with Patrick which made her feel the loss acutely.
'D'you miss school at all?'
'Not at all,' he grinned. 'Mind you, I could do without this tutor-fellow. Positively slave-driving. That's what it feels like anyway. It's all here's one you've done so here's another hundred to do by tomorrow. Still, I have to admit my maths is starting to make marginally more sense. And he thinks History counts as a proper subject. So he's persuaded my pa to ask the Broomhill chap to let me take History and French A's. Which will be more manageable. But it's all so pointless.'
'How?'
'Well. All's I'm going to do is run the estate. And before that, nothing I'm in the least likely to do's going to need A-levels.'
'What d'you think you might do?'
They were sitting under a huge oak tree, half-heartedly throwing sticks for Bucket.
He stretched out and sighed. 'Join up, p'raps. Or become a jockey. Or a falconer. Or a gardener.'
'A gardener?'
'Well, p'raps not. I wish I knew.' He paused, selecting a juicy looking grass stem to chew. 'Did you mind me inviting Miranda tomorrow?'
'No. Just surprised. I didn't think you'd like her.'
'Not sure I do. Well, obviously I've only just met her. But she looks… interesting.'
'Interesting how?'
'She reminds me of Regina.'
'Yes.' Nicola, without quite knowing why, thought this made complete sense. 'And anyway, it'll make it easier if Gin asks.'
'If Gin asks what?' His tone was casually detached.
'Oh. Well it's just that Gin thinks I'm staying with Miranda and I sort of didn't tell her I wasn't.'
'Girls!' Patrick dismissed the whole sex in an expansive gesture. 'Has she been completely foul?'
Family loyalty warred with friendship and, for once, friendship won. 'Completely. Floods of tears when she got your letter. And of course, those asses she hangs round with all terribly sympathetic so she's been eking it out for months. And shooting dagger looks at me every time she sees me and barely civil if we have to speak. Goodness knows what she thinks I've done except go on being friends with you. Which is a bit much seeing as we were friends first.'
Patrick slid his gaze round to contemplate Nicola's outraged face but decided this was not the moment for enlightenment.
'Goodness knows,' he echoed. 'Shall we fetch Bucket and go home? There's a rather good film on tonight I thought we might watch, if you like?'
'So long as it doesn't have ghosts in it?'
'No, no. Just lots of nice ordinary battles and blood and gory corpses everywhere.'
'Oh well, I don't mind that.'
He grinned at her and she smiled back and they walked home in total accord.
Mr Merrick insisted on taking Nicola home first. Patrick got out of the car when they reached Trennels and walked her up to the back door.
'Thanks. Shall I see you tomorrow?'
'Be in the hawk garden at six thirty?'
'Oke. Bye Patrick.'
'Bye.' And then, without thinking, he bent and kissed her cheek.
'Sorry. I… Sorry.' His face was flushed deep red and Nicola felt her own cheeks growing hot.
'Yes, um… I'll see you tomorrow.' And she fled.
Mr Merrick's mouth was determinedly not smiling as he handed the telephone to Patrick.
'For you. Nicola.'
'Oh. Thanks.' Patrick waited until the room was empty.
'Hullo Nick. Everything alright?'
'Not really. Gin saw you saying goodbye to me.'
'Oh.'
'So then we had a tremendous row and then I slapped her and so now I'm grounded tomorrow. Sorry.'
'Oh gosh. I'm so terribly sorry, Nick.'
'That's alright. Patrick?'
'Mmm?'
'Why did you do it?'
There was no reply.
'Patrick? Are you still there?'
'Yes. Sorry. I don't know really. It just seemed the right thing at the time. I didn't plan it. My Ma and Pa are desperately pretending they didn't see and aren't madly curious. I think prob we'd better forget it ever happened.'
'Yes,' said a relieved Nicola. 'I'll see you on Friday then.'
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2006-05-10 10:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 02:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 04:05 pm (UTC)Looking forward to reading the rest of the 50k you've already written!