She squared her shoulders, tightened her coat, and whispered, ‘Right. Let’s go.’ If she wasn’t good enough for Jago Jenken, it was his loss.
NINETEEN
The next morning, Rita, Thom, and Sennen were sitting chatting at the kitchen table when Poppy appeared, beautifully made up, wearing black cut-off trousers and an immaculately ironed white cotton shirt. Her hair was tied in a neat chignon of hairdresser quality.
Rita stood up. ‘Did you sleep well, despite the storm?’
‘Hardly a wink.’ Rita hadn’t noticed the girl’s thick Essex accent before. ‘But this one’ – she pointed to Thomas – ‘slept like a bloody baby.’
Thom grunted. ‘It doesn’t feel like it.’
‘Well, I expect you slept better than the guests.’ Rita added brightly, ‘Thanks to Zenya and Teo being so resourceful, they all bedded down in the annexe.’
‘Hilda would have loved that!’ Thom laughed.
Rita tutted. ‘Thankfully, she’s away or they would have all been hanging on for grim death in their yurts. Saying that they are built to withstand all weathers. I must get up there and see how they fared.’
‘It wasn’t so much the howling wind that kept me awake, more the screeching in the night of them birds,’ Poppy chirped, sliding into the chair next to Thom, who instinctively put a handon her thigh. ‘Thom told you I was allergic to chickens, didn’t he?’
‘Chickens?’ Sen laughed. ‘That was foxes.’ Sennen helped herself to a piece of toast from the rack and buttered it.
Poppy laughed back. ‘Oh. Silly me. I’m more of aLove Islandwatcher than aCountryfilegeek. And far more used to hearing a Tube trundling through Clapham than a stupid old fox in a field.’
Sennen took a sharp bite of her toast.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Rita flicked the kettle back on.
‘I’d like a fruit tea if you ’ave one. And brown toast, no butter, with Marmite, please.’
‘I can cook you something if you’d prefer, egg, bacon whatever you like?’ Rita, ever the hostess, smiled.
‘Nah, you’re all right, thanks, Reet; can I call you Reet?’
‘Sure,’ Rita stuttered, usually reserving that privilege for only her best friends. She glanced at Thom and Sennen and saw them grimace in unison.
Rita boiled the kettle, got out the box of ginger and lemon tea she’d bought to help keep her morning sickness at bay, and put a mug down in front of Poppy.
‘Thanks a million.’ She snuggled into Thom’s side. ‘He’s so charming, your boy, isn’t he? A credit to ya, in fact, proper old-fashioned chivalrous and I like that, you know. Healwayspays for things for me.’ She took a delicate sip of her tea, and it took a second for her to get the taste. ‘Ha! Ginger… talk of the devil,’ she cackled, kissing Thom on the cheek.
‘Don’t you like to look after yourself?’ Rita said cautiously, hands gripping her mug like it might protect her from the words she knew she shouldn’t really be saying.
‘Yeah, but it’s nice to be treated, ain’t it?’ Poppy said with a grin. ‘He’s promised me a weekend in Paris for my birthday…’ She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. ‘And then… who knows?’
‘Who knows what?’ Thom choked audibly on his coffee.
Sennen concealed her laugh.
Rita remained calm. ‘How long have you two been together again…?’
‘Oh, long enough,’ Poppy said dismissively, waving a hand as if a timeline didn’t matter.
Thom took a huge glug of coffee.
Rita sat down and poured herself a cup of decaf tea from the pot she had just made. ‘When are you driving back, love? Not that I want you to go, as it seems like you’ve only been here five minutes.’ Rita cringed, hoping she didn’t sound like the clingy-mother-type she aspired not to be.
Thom reached for another piece of toast from the rack. ‘I thought late this evening, miss the traffic, if that’s all right.’
‘Of course, I’ll do a roast before you go.’
