Lavender

Baby Pierre was just about to lower himself down from the window sill when Kobo called him back.

What now? said Baby Pierre.

How about taking your cousin? said Kobo.

My cousin? said Baby Pierre. I don't have a cousin.

I mean Lavender, said Kobo, indicating a flattish stone with a shell-shaped indentation, lying half way between herself and Baby Pierre's mum.

Lavender! She won't want to come, said Baby Pierre scornfully.

Yes I do, said Lavender. I do want to come.

Oh alright, said Baby Pierre, but you'd better be ready. I'm leaving at once.

I'm ready , said Lavender. Oh yay! I'm going on an adventure with Baby Pierre.

I hope you are more grownup than you sound, said Baby Pierre.

I am, I am! said Lavender. Where are we going?

We're going to look for my da....I mean Ageless, said Baby Pierre. He told me I would always be able to find him in the library.

The library, the library, sang Lavender. Come on, let's go, hurry up.

Baby Pierre sighed. Lavender was going to be a liability, he could tell. She was just an indentation in a stone, a mere memory of a shell, a twisty pointy shell that must once have been white, judging by the bits that he could see.

So why was she called Lavender?

And why did she want to come?