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‘Go ahead, m’am,’ Willem said, looking over to where Wenda had sat down. ‘Go ahead and tell us your news.’ He looked at the generous helping of breakfast Goody had given him. ‘I think I’ll be busy with this for a while. And besides, I don’t know too many real tales. A poem or two and some things my granda told me. I can always tell you one later . . . if that’s all right with you Granny.’
He stood up from his chair and pulled one out for Wenda. ‘Would you like to sit with us, m’am?’ he asked. ‘Easier to talk if you’re sitting nearer.’ He looked at Goody, but she had gone back to poking at the fire, her cup of coffee forgotten on the table.
Willem sat back down, figuring Wenda would come to sit if she wished. His eyes took in the feast before him; he hardly knew where to begin. He picked up the spoon Goody had passed over to him, and began shoveling up the eggs. Halfway through he broke one of the buns in two and used it as a scoop so that not a morsel was wasted. The sausages came next, stuffed in a second bun, and after them the savory scoop of gut pudding. Willem took a deep breath once the last bite was swallowed and pushed himself back from the table.
‘Sorry,’ he said, pushing the plate away from him. ‘I just don’t think I can squeeze in even one piece of that cheese.’ He pursed his lips as if reconsidering. ‘Well, not right now, at least,’ he said, pulling the plate back toward him. He picked up the last bun and stuffed it with the cheese. ‘I’ll just save it for later.’
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