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Raspberry jam was trickling down the chimney, fat red sticky droplets ending their journey with a soft splash at the bottom of the fireplace.
Finally the steady rhythm has penetrated into Anne’s consciousness, disrupting her daydreams about lone female heroine fighting her way across hordes of angry orcs and she raised her eyes from her mundane (even if blood-coloured) task of pitting cherries. Had it been winter and a merry fire had crackled in the fireplace she might have looked up earlier alarmed by the acrid smell of burning sugar. As it were, she could see a large puddle of jam already formed just below the chimney opening.
Her well-trained brain connected the dots instantly.
- Davy Keith!
Following her scream, Anne jumped up from her place by the table and rushed outside. She ran some twenty meters away from the house, then turned and looked up. Sure enough, Davy was sitting on top of the roof, but the chimney, roof tiles sloping down steeply in front of him. There was a long thick rope tied around the chimney, its end dangling down and just touching the front gate. Davy seemed unimpressed by imminent danger of fall, his feet bumping joyfully on the roof as he gazed down at his young guardian.
- Anne?
- What are you doing up there?
- Testing my theory, Anne.
- What theory?
- That’s a bullshit that Santa Claus comes through the chimney.
- Why? - Anne wondered why Davy formed this particular theory in July but then decided that with Davy’s eager mind everything was possible.
- He’s too fat.
- Oh - Anne considered this, her teacher’s curiosity winning over guardian’s responsibility - And how do you test it?
- I put a fake Santa in the chimney. And it got stuck.
- What fake Santa?
- Mr Harrison’s piglet.
- Piglet? And how did you even pulled it up there? - she asked but one glance at the rope gave her an idea so she switched subject - No matter. Do you mean to say we have a piglet stuck in the chimney?
- Yes - Davy sighed with annoyance - Can’t reach him. And he wiggles his tail so much I can’t grab it.
- So it’s at least alive? - Anne needed confirmation, already afraid of her infamous neighbour reaction.
- Yes, grunting like crazy. I think he is hungry.
- Oh, hence the jam? - Anne asked, thinking that with all his crazy ideas Davy was after all a kind-hearted kid.
- Yeah! - Davy smiled so broadly she could see it from down below.
Kids love to be understood.
- Davy, you know we need to take it out somehow? Maybe you can come down and run to mr Harrison and ask for help?
- I could. But maybe Gilbert could help? Gilbert! Can you take the piglet out of the chimney?
Anne turned around in the direction Davy was waving, half hoping he was pulling her leg. But no. There, leaning against an oak tree, stood her friend. Oh no. How long were he there, observing the interaction?
- Anne, you look indeed like you could use some help - Anne noticed Gilbert’s gaze travel down her form and then back up with amusement.
She looked down herself and realized she had totally forgotten she was wearing big pink apron of Marilla over her jeans and tank top, all said apron covered in red cherry juice, she was also still holding a kitchen knife in her hand. Anne internally groaned.
- Yes, of course - she replied sarcastically - We intended to have smoked piglet with stewed cherries for dinner but I can’t kindle the fire.
Gilbert laughed.
- You go and change or finish with the cherries, I will get the boy down and retrieve the pig. Is it your pig? I thought Marilla only keeps chicken.
Now Anne knew exactly which part of conversation Gilbert overheard. Not that it mattered much at this point.
- Mr Harrison’s. Any idea how we can explain to him it travelled to our roof top?
- No need to tell him as long as we can retrieve the poor creature unscathed. - Gilbert grinned.
- Anne! I know now why you say Gilbert is smart! - shouted Davy from the roof.
Anne blushed furiously and murmuring ‘kids’ disappeared in the kitchen.
There was no smoked piglet for dinner, only meatballs. The piglet, as soon as his short legs touched the ground, scarpered off in the direction of his own farm. There was though cherry pie for dessert. Davy had two helpings. Gilbert three. Anne settled for cheese. Marilla asked for biscuits and raspberry jam.
Ensuing silence was just a bit awkward.