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Neil shuddered. ‘Sounds horrible.’
Dorothy pushed a trolley into the room and handed each of them a tray on which was set their cutlery, a glass of home-made apple juice, their omelette on a plate, thinly sliced bread and butter, and the vegetables they had asked for. A delicate little salad for Miranda, crisp golden chips for Neil.
‘This is delicious,’ Neil said, eating ravenously.
When she had finished, Miranda felt even more tired and could not stop yawning.
‘Bed for you,’ Dorothy said. ‘What you need is a good night’s sleep.’
‘And me,’ Neil grimaced. ‘It has been a very long day.’
No sooner was Miranda in her bed than she fell deeply asleep, and woke up to find the room filling with pale grey and lemon light. The sun was just floating up behind the trees, a pale yellow slice in the champagne sky.
It was the first night she had spent for a fortnight without bad dreams. She stretched, yawning, feeling clear-headed, healthy, full of energy.
After a shower she dressed and went downstairs. Her mother was in the kitchen making apple and blackberry jelly. The rich scent of the fruit filled the room. Dorothy stirred attentively, humming to herself. Along the kitchen counter stood clean empty pots, waiting for the jelly to fill them.
Hearing Miranda’s footsteps she turned her head and smiled. ‘Sleep well? Yes, I can see you did. You’ve got some colour this morning and your eyes are clear. You looked terrible last night. Sit down, I’ll get you some breakfast – how about some porridge? I must just get this jelly to the right consistency, give me two minutes.’
‘I’ll be happy with toast, I can make it myself, don’t mind me, just look after your jelly.’
Miranda cut a slice of bread, found the old toasting fork and opened the grate door of the Aga and began toasting her bread at the bars. The heat glowed, the bread turned golden brown. She spread it with marmalade and bit into it as she boiled the kettle and made herself some instant coffee.
‘Can I make you some coffee, Mum?’
‘Mmm, thanks.’
Neil didn’t appear for another hour. When he finally came downstairs, he found the two women sitting with mugs of coffee in the kitchen, talking quietly, rows of filled jars glistening red along the counter.
‘Sorry, I overslept, I meant to be up and away an hour ago, but I must have slept through my alarm,’ he said with a sheepish grin.
‘You obviously needed more sleep,’ Dorothy soothed, getting up. ‘I expect you’ve been under a strain lately, and working far too hard. ‘Now, what would you like for breakfast?’
‘Oh, just a coffee will suit me, then I must run.’
‘Nonsense – how about piperade?’
He looked confused. ‘What’s that?’
‘Fried peppers and tomatoes cooked with scrambled egg – it’s delicious and very good for you.’
Neil hesitated. ‘Well, it sounds gorgeous – if that isn’t too much trouble. Thank you.’
It was cooked within minutes and Neil ate it slowly. ‘It’s a surprising mixture, but I love it. I might try to cook it for myself.’
He left half an hour later. ‘Don’t forget, keep indoors for a few days, don’t tell anyone where you are, and let me know if you notice anyone hanging around.’
‘I know, Neil. I’ll be careful,’ Miranda said, and waved as he drove off back to London.
‘He’s in love with you,’ her mother said.
‘I hope not, because I could never feel the same way, and he’s a very nice man, he deserves to be happy.’
‘Hmm,’ Dorothy said thoughtfully, staring at her.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ her mother said, going back into the house.
