‘Morning,’ she said. ‘Welcome to Meg’s. Breakfast, is it?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Sit down, I’ll be over.’
There were a couple of people already there, but I was glad to see that there was a free table in one of the bays and I went to sit down, divesting myself of a couple of layers of clothing as I did so and settling Runcible onto my lap. I picked up the menu and ordered a full English breakfast and a pot of tea, the latter of which materialised almost immediately. I had been expecting a small metal pot with a single tagged bag, but instead was presented with a large Brown Betty and a strainer.
‘Just what I needed,’ I said to the woman, who grinned.
‘We know how to do proper tea up here,’ she said. ‘I’m Meg, by the way.’
‘Fallon. I’m staying up the road with Douglas and Alexander Knight. My mother is dating his father,’ I added quickly, in case she thought there was any intrigue. I was aware of the speed at which news travels in a small village.
‘Oh aye, we’ve been expecting you. No doubt we’ll see you and your mam around a bit.’
I was doubtful whether my mother would be visiting the village much, and, when my breakfast arrived, delicious and headache-relieving though it looked, I wasn’t sure it was the kind of fare her Instagram wellness followers would approve of. I tucked in greedily and was just cutting into a particularly golden and crispy hash brown when a small green bus pulled up at the stop opposite. I watched idly as it disgorged a few passengers. The last person off was not someone I expected to see in a sleepy Yorkshire village: a tall, beautiful girl in, I guessed, her mid-twenties, with waist-length, silvery lilac hair. She was wearing a fabulous pair of purple patent Doc Martenboots and a long tapestry coat and carrying a huge backpack. I looked hurriedly down at my plate as she pushed open the door of the café, setting the bell ringing. I didn’t want to be caught staring, but she was striking and with such a sense oflifeabout her – a sort of energy, I suppose, that I hadn’t had myself for a long time. I surveyed my reflection in a spoon; could I carry off hair that colour?
‘Meg!’ the girl shrieked, and threw her arms around the proprietor, who hugged her delightedly.
‘Coco! What are you doing here? I didn’t think we were going to see you again for a while.’
‘No, well, you weren’t meant to, but I couldn’t have stayed another second at that restaurant. Fancy it may have been, but the head chef spent more time trying to grope my bottom than doing any work, while I got stuck on peeling onions for weeks at a time to make me learn my place.’
‘It sounds terrible, duck. Come on, let me get you a coffee.’
‘Meg, you’re an angel. I’ve been on a coach half the night, followed by that bus and I’ve got to go and face Daddy and Alexander now. They’ll befurious– or, worse, just deeply disapproving – that I’ve ditched the job, but honestly, I couldn’t have put up with that sexist pig a moment longer.’
As she turned to find a table, I stood up quickly.
‘Excuse me? Are you going up to Blakeney Hall?’
Coco smiled at me warmly. ‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘I’m staying there myself, do come and sit with me,’ I said, surprised at my own daring.
She shot over and took the seat opposite.
‘That breakfast looks delicious. You don’t always expect to get such good food in a little village, but this is definitely more Meg’s than Greggs.’ I laughed at her cheeky grin, and she continued, ‘Meg! Please can I have whatever – sorry, I don’t know your name?’
‘Fallon,’ I supplied.
‘Whatever Fallon is having?’ She turned back to me. ‘I’m going to need to keep my strength up. Why are you staying at the Hall? Are you a friend of Alexander’s?’
I laughed at the open curiosity in her face.
‘No, sorry, nothing like that.’
‘Oh, thatisa shame. He needs to meet someone nice, and it might have distracted him from my latest woes and given us all a happier Christmas.’
‘I’m Jacqueline’s daughter – Douglas’s…erm, girlfriend?’
‘Oh, how wonderful! Then if they get married, we’ll be sisters!’
I raised an eyebrow.
‘Oh, sorry! Douglas is my father and Alexander is my half-brother. Dad married again after Alexander’s mother died – a long time after – and I was the result. Mum and Dad divorced when I was tiny, and I lived between them growing up. Mum’s not far from here, she’ll probably pop in at some point – knowing her, she’ll probably stay for a month, since she loves Christmas and she’ll be dying to meet Jacqueline.’
I couldn’t imagine that Mum would be dying to meether, but I refrained from saying so.
