"Kicked," Marc said stubbornly. "You kicked me."
"Where?"
"Never mind."
"I was yards away from you at the time," Toffee said. "You saw me, yourself."
Marc reflected. It was true; she hadn't even been in sight. Still, experience had taught him that she was capable of anything, perhaps even a long-distance boot in the bottom.
"Well, somebody did it," he said sullenly.
"I swear it wasn't me," Toffee said stoutly. "I swear it on the old bald head of my maternal grandfather."
"You haven't got a maternal grandfather," Marc said shortly. "Don't talk nonsense."
"If I had a maternal grandfather," Toffee amended smoothly, "and he had an old bald head, I would unhesitatingly swear on it."