10,000

When Darcy Fielding invited me to the Blackcurrant Café for an ad hoc meeting, I could tell he was excited.

I arrived, and he slapped me on the back in a gesture of barely suppressed glee. He asked me what type of wine I fancied - his treat - and even my gentle refusal (as it was too early in the day) didn't cause his happiness to dwindle unduly.

"Oh. Okay," he said, indicating I should sit. "Have a fancy coffee then. Or whatever you like. We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"Drink first."

"Fine. You are a bossy little mouse, you know. I'll have a toffee coffee."

He laughed. "Fielding wielding. Others yielding." With that, he went to Francesca Osborne to make the order.

I watched him exchange words with Francesca, seeing her chuckle at something he said. I'd been unfair calling him bossy. Persuasive would be a better word. It had made him a good reporter, able to get his interviewees to feel comfortable and reveal such facts as needed for his story. Now, of course, he didn't do as much fieldwork since he had all the additional tasks associated with being owner and editor of the newspaper. He did some reporting, but having assembled a fine team including Harry Hawthorne and Antonia Petite, he could hold back knowing his influence was there. I know they considered him a friend as well as a good boss.

And he will be so embarrassed reading this.

Darcy returned with the drinks and placed my cup in front of me. "Francesca's got enough work to do so I told her that we're not bothered about table service."

"Thanks," I said, taking the cup. "So. Now can you tell me what we're celebrating?"

"I can. Cheers, Jackson," he said, taking his cup. I noted that he'd chosen the same beverage.

I blew on the surface of the drink and took a sip. The rich toffee flavour was the perfect antidote to the cold air outside. "Cheers, Darcy."

"Right. The news." He was smiling again. "We have ten thousand views."

"Ten thousand...?"

"Views. Yes. Isn't that great?"

"It could be if I knew what you were talking about."

"Oh Jackson, what are you like? The Internet of course."

"You know I don't know all about that webby stuff."

"Sorry. It means that our tales about life in Mellowdene have been seen outside Sylvania ten thousand times."

"And by outside Sylvania you mean..."

"...what your Rowan calls the Land of Men."

"Ah."

"Ah? You don't sound too excited. Don't you get it? It shows that people are reading about our Sylvanian life. That's why I started this, remember? Letting the humans know that our way of life is good."

I did remember. This was what he'd said to persuade me to start writing for him all those months ago. I'm sure he didn't mention humans though - I didn't really believe in them back then. I suppose he neglected to mention them so that I'd agree to his proposal. I smiled at the eager mouse facing me.

"It is good news, Darcy. I didn't understand."

"Aw, that's alright pal. You do now. You do realise that you're the only one who I can share this with? Well, maybe Newton, who set up the connection - but he's not the one who's written most of the content. That's you, my dear old rabbit, and that is worth celebrating."

"Not that old, Darcy," I smiled. Then I raised my cup again. "Cheers."

He beamed and raised his cup.

Ten thousand. That's not bad.

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