As she left the room, she heard a not-quite-muted squeal. “I met her,” she heard Vivienne squeak. Excited feet tapped on the floor. “I actually met Lois Lane.”
The room burst into laughter and then Lois heard Clark’s voice. “Better get on with those bases, Viv. You wouldn’t want Ms Lane dying of starvation on your watch.”
There was more laughter. Lois climbed the first stair, but paused as she heard another voice. It was one of the young men, she wasn’t sure which one. “Hey, Perfect, why’d you hang out with a bunch of feral kids when your wife looks like that?”
Clark didn’t reply. As least not that Lois heard.
She went up the stairs, pushing aside the mountain of remorse and determining that from now on, there would be no more regrets.
Part 8
When Lois arrived back in the kitchen, it was filled with activity. And laughter. And loud voices. And there was a lot of flour on the floor.
Clark looked up, slightly abashed. “I probably should have gone with pre-made pizza bases,” he admitted.
“Then we’d miss out on half the fun,” Lois said easily. The hands of the kids had stilled and their eyes were fixed on her. “What can I do?”
Beau energetically waved his knife. “If you really want to help you can come and cut up these olives,” he said. “Clark made me do them because I told him I was going to pick off anything that started life as a weed.”
“And Clark told you that if you did that, you’re getting a vegetarian pizza,” Maddie said.
Their laughter squeezed out the silence. Lois brushed passed Boston, and Beau moved across to make a space for her at the table. Todd passed her a knife and she began halving the olives.
In the centre of the table, the plates held steadily growing piles of toppings, all chopped – with varying degrees of uniformity. Clark was at the stove, stirring something that permeated a deliciously subtle aroma through the stronger smells of onion and peppers.
Her presence seemed to still their tongues. Lois got the impression they were very comfortable together, but not so with a stranger. Did she ask a question? Initiate a conversation? She glanced across the table to where Vivienne was trying to roll a base into something resembling a circle. “Thanks for your help with the story yesterday.”
Vivienne looked up. “I was so scared Clark was going to miss all the action,” she said. “But that wouldn’t have been a complete disaster because I was taking notes for him.”
“Thanks,” Lois said. “Were you in the house when the thieves broke in?”
Vivienne’s face fell with almost comical regret. “No,” she said. “It’s *my* house, but the police wouldn’t let me. And Clark said that if I tried to sneak back in, he would call my parents.”
The kids laughed again – still restrained, but Lois hoped it was a sign they were slowly adjusting to her presence. “So where were you?”
“In the neighbour’s house, across the street. They let me stay in the front room upstairs, so I could be on stakeout.”
“And the thieves came the first night?”
“Oh, no,” Vivienne said. “They came the fourth night. I saw them and I was so excited. A real crime! Right in my house! And I was there! I was on the stakeout! I *was* the stakeout! I almost forgot I was supposed to call the police. I wanted to race across the road and bail them up then and there.” She looked up from her rolling pin and grinned impishly. “But I knew if I did that I would be in *big* trouble with Clark.”
Lois returned her smile. “And being in trouble with Clark isn’t much fun.”
There were sounds from around the table that could have signified agreement.
Maddie spoke up. “Boston got into trouble with Clark the first night he came to the hall because he brought a -.”
Boston cut in. “And you, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, what about when you stole the puppy?”
“I saw his owner hit him!”
“But Clark said you shouldn’t have stolen the puppy. And he made you take it back.”
“It wasn’t me who put salt in the sugar container and watched while Clark put three teaspoons of it in his coffee.”
Todd joined in. “It wasn’t me who blended green peppers and oatmeal and week-old fish and told Clark he had puked all over the bathroom floor.”
“It wasn’t me who hid his shoes behind the supply cupboard.”
“He *still* won't tell me how he found them so quickly.”
“It wasn’t me who started calling him ‘Purr-fect’.
“It wasn’t me who hit the fire extinguisher with a basketball and set it off.”
“That was an accident!”
“It wasn’t me who photo-shopped Clark and gave him long blond curly hair and dressed him in a tight mini-skirt.”
“It wasn’t me who hung it on the notice-board.”
The last comment drew roars of laughter. Lois looked over to Clark. He had turned off the heat from under the saucepan and was casually leaning against the bench, arms folded, face relaxed to a small smile. He caught her look and rolled his eyes.
Beau sliced the last olive and laid down his knife with an exaggerated sigh. “Finished,” he said.
Clark came to the table. “Work in pairs,” he said. “Get a base and I’ll give you some tomato sauce. Spread it out; put on the meat first, then the vegetables, then lastly the cheese.”
“Do we have to have any baby spinach?”
“Not if you have other vegetables.”
From her left side, Boston looked down at Lois. She estimated he was the oldest of the kids – he was certainly the tallest. “Would you like to share with me, Ms Lane?” he asked shyly.
“Only if you call me Lois,” she replied.
He smiled, still a little hesitantly. “OK.”
Clark came around and ladled his tomato sauce on each of the three bases. Then, with a continually running commentary – much of it voicing their dissatisfaction at the inclusion of vegetables - they assembled the toppings as Clark watched over them. “Remember,” he said. “Too many toppings will mean you get a soggy base that isn’t properly cooked.”
Lois pushed the slices of pepperoni into the tomato sauce, then added pineapple chunks and strips of spinach. Boston covered his half with pepperoni and ham and bacon. He glanced at Clark and then quickly added a smattering of onion. And half an olive. Then he covered it with a generous layer of cheese. He looked at Lois’s half and grimaced. “Ugghh,” he said. “That is *gross*.”
Lois leant closer to him as she scattered the cheese. “It’s not for me,” she whispered.
Boston’s face cleared to understanding. “Ahh,” he said. “I forgot Clark likes weird food combinations.”
“How’s this, Clark?” Maddie asked, lifting a pizza for Clark’s inspection.
“Great, Maddie,” he said with a smile. “Bring it over and we’ll put it in the oven.”
“We’re ready too,” Boston said.
“I’ll take it,” Lois offered. She picked up their pizza and lifted it high as she manoeuvred past Beau to get to Clark.
He put the three pizzas in the oven and then straightened. “You can all make another one while these cook,” he said.
“Want to make one with me now?” Lois asked him.
“OK,” Clark said. “Get a base while I give them all more sauce.”
“Hey,” Todd said suddenly as he looked directly at Lois. “I bet you have lots of dirt on Clark here. I bet he’s not as pur-r-r-fect as he wants us to think he is.”
Lois glanced to Clark. He was ladling sauce onto Maddie’s base with more attention than the task seemed to require. “Dirt?” Lois asked innocently.
“Yeah, you know,” Beau said. “Anything he wouldn’t want us to know about.”
“Well, he comes from Kansas,” Lois said.
Judging by the howls of laughter this was news to them. “He does?” Boston said. “He comes from *Kansas*?”
His expression suggested that he couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d announced Clark had come from ... well, Krypton. Lois nodded. “He’s a country bumpkin.”
“Do they have television there yet?” Todd asked with such seriousness there was a startled silence as everyone wondered if his question was legitimate. Then, his grin cracked open and the laughter erupted.
“They had television before you were born,” Clark informed them as he took his place next to Lois and began topping his half of their pizza.
“OK, so Clark comes from Kansas,” Vivienne said. “That explains why he was so insistent we had to *make* our pizzas instead of ordering them in – like normal people do.”
“No, this was so he could force us to eat stuff like spinach.”
Todd slapped his head as if struck with an idea. “Now I understand,” he said. “You *had* to make them yourself because Kansas doesn’t have pizza take-out yet.”
That brought another round of laughter.
Lois smiled with them, her glance darting sideways to Clark. He was concentrating on his pizza, but his quiet smile suggested he was enjoying their banter.
“How did you escape?” Beau asked.
“More importantly,” Todd chimed in. “How did you know there was somewhere to escape to?”
“Ah,” Vivienne said. “That would have been the televisions.”
They laughed again. Clark pointed at them, a half-smile on his face. “I’m proud to have been raised in Kansas,” he said.
“Sure you are,” Beau said. He shot Lois a beseeching grin. “There must be something else you can tell us. Being married to him doesn’t mean you can’t give us something to have some fun with.”
“Such as?” Lois asked.
“Did he ever get drunk?” Todd asked.
“Or break the traffic rules?” Beau added.
“Or get arrested?” Vivienne said.
“No, no and ... no,” Lois said.
The chorus of groans reverberated around the table. “There *has* to be something,” Todd said. “No one can be that pur-r-r-fect.”
“He must have done *something* to make you mad,” Todd said. “My mom is always mad at my dad.”
“Oh, l get mad at him sometimes,” Lois said.
“Why?” Vivienne asked eagerly. “What does he do wrong?”
Lois smiled and leant her shoulder slightly into Clark’s arm. “I didn’t say *he* did anything wrong,” she said. “Maybe I was wrong to get mad.”
They groaned again – all five of them. But what Lois noticed the most was how Clark leant a little closer to her.
“He *cannot* be that pur-r-r-fect,” Beau stated.
“How did he propose?” Maddie asked.
“He took me to the park and sat me on the side of a fountain and then he knelt down and asked me if I would marry him.”
“Aww,” Maddie said. “That is so romantic.”
“What did you say?” Vivienne asked.
The memory caused a wave of sweet nostalgia. “Before I could answer, it started raining and we had to run for shelter and when we got there, he asked me again.”
“And you said ‘yes’?” Maddie asked. She had stopped assembling her pizza, her eyes glued to Lois.
“I said ‘no’,” Lois admitted.
Maddie’s face creased with horror. “Oh, no,” she groaned. “Why?”
“I bet I know,” Vivienne said.
“Why?” Boston asked.
“Because it can’t be easy being married to Mr Pur-r-r-fect.”
They laughed again, but Maddie hadn’t finished. “But ... you’re married. He asked you again, didn’t he?”
“No,” Lois said. “I asked him.”
Maddie smiled. “Was he happy?”
Lois slipped her arm around Clark’s waist and pulled him close to her. “Very happy, as far as I could tell,” she said. “He said ‘yes’ anyway.”
Maddie sighed around a wistful smile. “And then you had a beautiful wedding and lived happily ever after.”
Lois felt Clark chuckle. “Something like that,” she agreed.
“I don’t want to get married,” Vivienne declared. “I don’t want any man slowing me down and telling me what to do.”
“I used to feel exactly the same,” Lois said.
Vivienne’s eyes bounced up. “You did?”
Lois nodded.
“What happened?”
“Clark happened.”
“I hope nothing like Clark happens to me,” Vivienne said. Then she grinned at Clark. “Sorry, no offence. I just don’t want to get married.”
Clark waved away her apology.
Maddie spoke up. “So ... if you really didn’t want to get married ... how did Clark convince you?”
“Just by being Clark,” Lois said.
This time there were no laughs, no hoots, just silence. But it spoke volumes to Lois. They understood. They knew what Clark being Clark meant. She wasn’t sure if any of them would admit it publicly, but Clark being Clark had made all their lives better.
“Everyone ready?” Clark said. “The first ones should be done by now.”
He bent low to open the oven. Lois picked up their raw, assembled pizza and laughed. Clark’s half was covered in mushrooms, which he hated, green peppers, which he tolerated and rocket which he’d once described as an insult to a pizza.
They were, however, her favourite combination of pizza toppings.
||_||
They sat around the table that was chaotic with no-longer-neat piles of toppings and a squat floury tower of unused bases. Boston brought cans of cola from the fridge and handed them to everyone.
There was silence as they began eating. “Hey,” Todd said with overstated surprise. “These are good.”
“They taste just like bought ones,” Beau said, grinning.
Clark pointed at him with mock severity. “One more insult,” he warned. “And you’ll be going home hungry.”
Beau grinned wider before taking another huge mouthful of pizza.
Lois cut a slice from the pizza she had made with Boston, put it on a plate and offered it to Clark. He took it with a smile. “I noticed your favourite toppings have changed,” he said. “You’ve never liked pepperoni, pineapple and spinach before.”
“No, they haven’t changed,” she said softly. She found his eyes. “None of my favourite things have changed.”
Clark’s eyes softened as they were caught in hers. He slowly leant towards her.
“ARRGGHH!”
Clark sprang back from Lois. “What’s wrong?” he asked Beau anxiously. “Did you get burnt?”
Beau pointed at Clark. “You were going to kiss her,” he accused with a wide grin. “Don’t you try to deny it, Perfect, you were going to kiss her. I saw you.”
Clark settled back comfortably in his chair. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he said.
Beau swallowed, still grinning. “I didn’t try to kiss someone at the table,” he said.
“Yeah, Clark,” Todd added. “When you caught Abby and Scott kissing out the back of the hall, you told them it wasn’t allowed.”
Clark slowly chewed his pizza, gazing at them with a small smile. He swallowed and reached for his can of cola. “When you’re married, you’re welcome to bring your wife here and kiss her at the table,” he said easily.
“Do it, then,” Todd goaded. “Do it. We dare you.”
“Do it.”
“Do it, Clark. Kiss her. We dare you.”
Clark slid his plate onto the table and turned to Lois. His expression was a mix of amusement and apology. He came in closer and kissed her – his mouth directly on hers.
From behind him came a cacophony of hoots and cheers.
Clark lifted from Lois and turned to them. “Eat your pizzas,” he said. “The next ones will be ready soon and you’re talking so much, you’ve barely started on these.”
||_||
After the pizzas were eaten, they went into the living room and Clark turned on the Play Station. The kids loudly debated who would play the first game. It became very clear to Lois that the boys all wanted only one thing – to beat Clark at the car racing game they were playing.
He declined, saying he would challenge the winner of a round robin competition which he expected them to organise - without resorting to arguments.
Having settled the boys, Clark turned to the kitchen. Lois followed. He stopped. “You stay here,” he said quietly. “I know both the girls would love to talk with you.”
“Are you sure?” Lois asked.
“Sure.”
“OK,” she agreed, knowing that despite the damage done to the kitchen, it wouldn’t take him more than a few seconds to clean it up.
Lois sat on the sofa and both girls came to join her. Maddie looked at Vivienne. “Aren’t you playing the Play Station?” she asked. “You usually whoop their butts.”
Vivienne shot the boys a disparaging look. “Of course I’m not *playing*,” she said. “Not when there is a case to work on.”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “But they caught the guys who broke into your house.”
This time Vivienne rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t *solve* the case,” she said.
Lois tried to hide her smile. “You think there is more?” she asked.
Vivienne leant forward, her face alight with enthusiasm. “I’m *sure* there is more,” she said.
“What do you think?” Lois asked.
“You’re asking *me*?” Vivienne squeaked.
Lois shrugged. “It’s Clark’s story, not mine. I don’t know much about it.”
“Well, firstly I think the police have it wrong,” Vivienne said. “I don’t think whoever is behind this is motivated by money. I don’t think he wants to sell these things. I think he wants to keep them.”
“So a collector?”
Vivienne nodded vigorously. “Or someone who wants to be a collector.”
“Maybe he can’t afford to buy nice things,” Maddie said.
“Some of the things stolen would be difficult to sell because they are so recognisable,” Vivienne continued. “And also, not too many of the general public even know about pieces like the Royal Worcester vases – some people because they can’t afford them, others because they have no interest.”
“But you have an interest and your parents have the money?”
Vivienne wrinkled her nose. “I don’t have any real interest,” she said. “But Mom’s father was English and she collects Royal Worcester so I’ve seen them in the house all my life. I've been with Dad when he went to a dealer to buy Mom a present.”
“So you can’t just walk into a store and buy what you want?”
Vivienne shook her head. “Not usually. Sometimes you can hit it lucky at an antique store. But if the current owner of a piece really doesn’t want to sell – you can’t buy it regardless of how much money you offer.”
“Did you tell the police this?” Lois asked.
Vivienne groaned with frustration. “I told them, but firstly I’m a kid so they think I know nothing and secondly I’m a girl so they think I get caught up in wild, improbable ideas. They are concentrating on the clocks and jewellery that were stolen, but I think they were secondary to the vases – probably to throw the police off the real trail.” Vivienne grinned suddenly. “But then when Dad and Mom said they were going away, I thought there was every chance our house would be hit. The police didn’t really believe me, but they let me have the stakeout from the house across the road because that was the only way they could stop me harassing them.”
Lois couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, I think you have a good point,” she said.
Vivienne beamed. “You do?”
Lois nodded. “I’ll give you my email address,” she said. “Would you mind sending me all you know about what has been stolen?”
“Mind?” Vivienne squeaked. “You think you could use my notes?”
“I think so,” Lois said gravely.
Vivienne covered her cheeks with her hands. “Wow!” she said excitedly.
“You said your parents are away?” Lois asked.
Vivienne nodded. “They both go away a lot on business; this time they went together.”
“Where are they?”
“They’re in Mexico. Staying at the Riviera Resort.”
Clark came into the room, carrying a laden tray. “Anyone want more pizza?” he asked. “And hot chocolate?”
“I’m full,” Beau said, his eyes not leaving the screen where the cars were racing around a track.
“This is dessert pizza,” Clark said. He looked directly at Lois and she recalled his assertion that there would be no marshmallow and chocolate pizza.
Lois stood from the sofa so she could see onto the tray he carried. Amongst the cups of hot chocolate there was a large marshmallow and chocolate pizza. She looked up from the tray and into his eyes. “That looks incredibly messy,” she said.
Beau paused the game and swung from the screen. “Clark is in trouble now,” he whooped. “He made a mess in Lois’s kitchen.”
“Would you like a piece?” Clark asked, his eyes not moving from Lois.
“Ah!” Todd exclaimed. “Now he’s trying to wriggle out of it.”
Lois managed to keep a straight face for a long moment, then she sniffed snootily. “I suppose I will have a small piece,” she conceded.
The boys howled with laughter and Todd came over and patted Clark soundly on the back. “Nice move, Perfect,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
Clark loaded a piece of the sticky, drizzling-with-melted-chocolate pizza onto a plate and offered it to his wife with a small smile.
Lois sighed with happiness.
And it had absolutely nothing to do with the chocolate.
||_||
“OK, guys,” Clark announced half an hour later. “Time to clean up.”
The dissent rose, as if orchestrated. “It can’t be time to go already,” Vivienne whined.
“Beau and Maddie have to walk and I have to drive the rest of you,” Clark said. “We need to start cleaning up because I said you would be home by nine-thirty.”
Vivienne grinned at him. “My parents are away; they’re never going to know you got me home late.”
“You’re going to be home on time,” Clark said in a tone that gave no leeway for argument.
They turned off the Play Station and moved to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, bags over their shoulders, the group congregated near the front door.
“Thanks, Clark,” Boston said. “Thanks for a great night.” He glanced at Lois. “Thanks for letting us come.”
“Yeah, thanks,” the others chorused.
“It was nice meeting you all,” Lois said.
“Will you come again?” Vivienne asked.
“I hope so,” Lois said, realising it was the truth.
Clark turned to Beau. “Walk Maddie all the way to her door,” he said.
Beau grimaced. “Ah, come on, man. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Clark said firmly. “You’re a man and a man always sees that a woman gets home safely.”
Beau waved his hand in defeat. “OK,” he sighed.
One by one, they trudged through the front door. Clark was the last to leave. He gazed at Lois for a moment without speaking. “Thanks,” he said softly.
Lois smiled.
Clark smiled back.
Her heart leapt.
“I’ll be back soon,” Clark said.
Lois moved into the kitchen – a kitchen that, despite the efforts of the kids, looked like it had hosted a wild party that evening. A kitchen, if she were honest, that had more appeal now than when it was display-home perfect.
Because now, it looked like a home, not just a house.
Still smiling, Lois began to sweep the remaining flour from the floor.
When the kitchen was completely restored to order, Clark still hadn't returned home. Lois went upstairs to the study and turned on the computer.
Something Vivienne had said had lodged in her mind and Lois knew she would not be able to rest until she had checked it out.
