She’d been wakened during the night by Opal and Meredith’s voices on the floor below. At one point it sounded, Freya thought, as if somebody was being sick, but she couldn’t be sure. She knew she was shattered from lack of sleep, but when she walked into the kitchen and saw Meredith, hollow-eyed, sitting at the kitchen table, staring listlessly at a cup of tea and a plate of scrambled egg on toast, Freya decided that she was supermodel fresh compared to her cousin. Opal didn’t look much better than her daughter. Probably nobody in the house had slept last night – aside from Foxglove, who was sitting on a chair at the table cleaning her paws contentedly. ‘Morning,’ said Freya, determined to bring a little bit of normality to the house. ‘Breakfast?’ said Opal, cheering up at the sight of her niece. ‘Em, yes,’ said Freya unexpectedly, and she hugged her aunt.
