Disclaimer: Howl's Moving Castle characters © Diana Wynne Jones. Not mine. T.T
Summary: Inspired by "30 kisses"—a one-shot for every theme. Pure fluff.
O-30x
2. News
Sophie had an easy grin spread over her face from the moment she woke up to the moment the first words passed her first customer's lips.
"Congratulations, Sophie! What good news indeed!" gushed Mrs. Butcher from down the street.
"I'm sorry?" The grin had already been replaced by a frenzied look of confusion.
"Oh, don't be a prude!" the woman giggled, the dimples on her soft round face pocking the baby-smoothness of her skin. "You and that fine Mr. Jenkins, of course! I've always wondered why it was his name etched on this lovely store's window. Now I know! Oh, you lucky girl you!"
Sophie started. Whatever was going on? "I-I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Butcher." Her mind was failing to grasp the scandalous words the butcher's wife had thrown about. Lucky, her? Her and Howl?
"Oh oh oh, my dear!" The woman proceeded to paw at Sophie's arm insistently. "Don't play these games with me! Please tell me, when is the wedding! I simply must know!"
The blood drained from her face in a wave of cold nausea. What in the world was going on! Wedding, her mind echoed in a panic. Wedding?
Sophie gathered herself, although she was sure she looked the picture of postmortem glory. Vaguely, she wondered whether there was any red-gold left in that hair of hers. Even a shade of ginger would do. She felt white all over. "I'm afraid I really don't know what you mean, madam," she said pleasantly. "May I interest you in some lovely daisies here?"
Mrs. Butcher seemed to smile knowingly before allowing the subject to fall and Sophie to wrap up some daises and lavender sprigs for her.
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief when the door swung shut behind her. "Really!" she huffed. "People these days! And the gossip that goes around, my goodness!"
Since when had Howl acquired such a respectable reputation, anyways? He was supposed to be invisible, excepting Martha and Fanny, of course. But they wouldn't have gone yammering about her and Howl, would they? Oh, the thought sent cold shivers of dread up her spine.
The jangling bell welcomed another customer into her cozy shop. She decided firmly to let the matter simmer in the back of her mind.
"Oh, Sophie, my dear, where have you been!"
"Mrs. Baker, yes, it's been a while." She offered a warm smile. "Quite lovely to see you again. I've been away all this time, you see." Steady Mrs. Baker. Yes, Sophie could count on her sensible mind. None of this nonsense about weddings.
But Mrs. Baker's eyes twinkled. "Is that how you met this wonderful Mr. Jenkins?"
Sophie choked on a breath, sending her into a coughing frenzy.
Mrs. Baker looked concerned, crossing the counter with a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Are you all right, dear? There's been a dreadful sort of fever going around this year. I hope to heaven you haven't caught it as well!" And then, under her breath, "It certainly wouldn't do for the bride to be ill on her wedding day."
The coughs died down, and Sophie settled herself once more, not liking the raw, scratchy itch that lingered in her throat. The tick seemed to spread up into her mouth and over her face until she felt as if she might have lost control of her face entirely. A forced smile cracked her still countenance.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you, Mrs. Baker. Thank you, really, for your concern," Sophie managed. "What is this about a Mr. Jenkins?" she prodded hesitantly. "I'm afraid I didn't catch you were saying."
Was that a giggle from Mrs. Baker?
"Oh, Mr. Jenkins, yes!" The dainty woman batted her white-gloved hand at the air. "A fine man you've managed to net yourself, my dear! One like him doesn't come along every day, you know!"
Sophie nodded blandly. She swallowed. "T-Thank you, Mrs. Baker." Sophie was, quite honestly, afraid to ask more. "What is it you're looking for today? The spring bouquets are quite lovely, if I may say so."
There was that twinkle in Mrs. Baker's eye again. No one seemed to think it odd that Sophie didn't quite get around to accepting any sort of congratulations.
"Why, yes, Sophie dear," the older woman fell into the distraction with grace. "I do believe I'll have one of those lovely arrangements of yours. You have quite a talent for it, I must say!" She looked away mischievously. "Such talents could be quite handy for large gatherings, don't you think? Oh, you must. Let's have a look at those green things, shall we? Yes, thank you."
Had she been of a lighter disposition, she might've snorted at the tactful allusion to a wedding the old coot had slipped into her yammering. Would no soul spare her this cruel joke?
As soon as Mrs. Baker glided out of the store with her bundle, Sophie slumped onto her glass counter with a faint sigh of distress. Oooh, once she got her hands on that Howl! Her hand fisted over a clump of hair, but she restrained herself from yanking out a happy handful.
Howl had some explaining to do!
When she finished with him, he would be groveling for his pitiful, slither-outing, self-centered—
"Sophie, dear! Whatever is the matter? Why have you got that pretty ginger head of yours on the counter like that? It's not good for the custom, you know."
Oh yes, she thought gaily. There's the repugnant man now! Mr. Jenkins, indeed!
Howl seemed to sense that something was amiss. "…Sophie?" he called hesitantly.
"Howl Jenkins!" she snapped, straightening to her full height (an imposing five-foot-four). "You—!"
"Now Sophie," Howl returned nervously, "what seems to be the problem?"
Sophie scowled, and she couldn't imagine that it improved her looks any. Oh, who was to care! "Howl Jenkins, where is all this nonsense coming from! I've heard it from two respectable ladies already, and I'm not aiming to hear from any more. Did you—"
"Sophie, Sophie!" Howl interrupted dramatically. "What nonsense? Nonsense comes from townspeople all the time. That's the nature of gossip, you know. What have been hearing?"
"It's—"
The jangling bell broke split through the tension and brought another into their midst.
Fanny had swept in, all warm pink skirts and frilly lace trimmings. Tossing her parasol away to a trailing servant, she made an aggressive beeline for Sophie, who deflated at the unexpected appearance of her stepmother.
"Fanny—"
"Oh, Sophie, you naughty, vicious girl!" Somehow, Fanny managed to appear fierce even while standing on the other side of a glass counter with flowers all about her. "And you too, Wizard Howl!" The woman twirled and pointed accusingly to spread the blame. "The lot of you! There's to be a wedding, and I seem the last to know! How could you both! How could you, indeed!"
Sophie remembered her righteous indignation and turned a meaningful glare in the wizard's direction, but he seemed not to notice.
Mouth parted in surprise, Howl seemed to be staring off into another world, dazed with this news that apparently even he had not heard.
"Well, Sophie?" Fanny prompted, tapping her fingers against the crisp glass.
"I-I…" her tongue searched for words to explain, but there was nothing to explain. Even Sophie was clueless as to where this startling news had come from. Gossip run amok. The nerve of these people!
Meanwhile, Howl turned the thought over in his head.
A wedding…
Hmm…
A wedding…
With Sophie?
Flowers and drinks and white things and finery…and marriage…
He turned the thought over some more.
Marriage to Sophie…Sophie Hatter…the ginger-haired mouse he'd pined after ever since that fateful, elusive May Day…
A ceremony…hmm…yes…
A cake and wine and candles…
A ceremony for him and her…
I do…and I do…
You may now kiss the bride.
Red-gold hair and rosy cheeks and tinted lips under a sharp nose and brilliant blue eyes…all framed in a vision of pristine white…
You may now kiss the bride.
Hmm…
Didn't married couples share a room? Share a bed?
Howl, oblivious to the day, grinned like a lovestruck idiot. Market Chipping had been just the right place to come.
Author's Note: Installment 2 finished! Thank you for reading! Comments are much appreciated. )
-kidoairaku