‘Darling, it’s not green’ Darryl sneered as he shook the tension from his shoulders ‘It’s Verdant Blush complimented by The Venus of Moss Extractions.’ He turned away. ‘Green, indeed. She’d never accept just green.’

Primrose Trefoil peered at the cascading rocks and the, to her, clearly green coverings still dripping following the outflow of the water. ‘Why does she want to change it, anyway?’

Darryl scribbled his signature on the thigh of a flunky and turned back to Primrose. ‘Each new season means a new landscape for her Royalness. Last year it was a glacial melt, two years ago we had to find two million virgin’s tears for her bath and believe me there aren’t many of those anymore.’

‘Tears?’

‘Virgins. This year she’s gone all post traditional and want’s a Classical seascape. All craggy granite and scalloped stacks.’ He glanced around to check on prying ears and whispered, ‘If you ask me it’s because she’s such a wrinkled old hag she wants to Court to look the same after they’ve spent three months in salt water.’ He put his hands on his hips, and sighed. ‘You know, those carpets look very life-like. You’d not think they were manufactured, would you? Like real seaweed.’

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