Nico brought out a pot of coffee. As he poured cups for Ginny and Eric, a small woman with blond corkscrew curls bounded into the room. She wore striped leggings and a pink T-shirt with a mandala on the front. She set a bottle of vitamins down on the table and pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh. My. Word,” she said, her lips parting when she fixed her eyes on Ginny. “I can’t believe I’m standing here in front oftheGinny Splinter. I love listening to your show with my mum. You’resocaring and wise.”
Ginny felt her cheeks flushing. It was nice to hear kind words after the turmoil of the last few weeks, but also rather embarrassing. “Heather?” she presumed.
“I most certainly am.” Heather edged so close Ginny could see the rusty brown patches in her green eyes. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”
Ginny wanted to inch back, but didn’t want to appear rude. Heather had the energy of an overwound clockwork toy, which felt too overpowering at breakfast time. “Yes, me, too. Let me introduce you to Eric, he’s a carpenter.”
“Hello there, I’m a primary school teacher.” Heather enunciated as if addressing her class. “I’m used to planning and organizing everyone. I’ve been teaching my kids mindfulness and teamwork, so I’m here whenever anyone needs me.” She unscrewed her bottle and popped a tablet in her mouth, washing it down with a glass of water. “Who else is joining us?” she asked.
“Curtis arrived with me yesterday and then there’s Edna,” Ginny said. She paused when she heard tapping, like a metronome ticking out a slow beat. The tip of a walking stick appeared around the corner of the dining room.
“Loretta,” Nico called out. “Please help our guest to sit down.”
The person that followed the stick had steel-gray eyes that gave her slim face a disapproving quality. Her white hair formed a neat bun secured by a tortoiseshell comb. She wore a black skirt that reached her shins and swamped her petite frame, reminding Ginny of a Victorian statue that had come to life in a graveyard.
“Good morning, everyone.” She pronounced all her words crisply as if she’d had elocution lessons. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. My name is Mrs. Edna Edgerton-Woods.”
Loretta held out a hand to help her.
Edna batted it away. “Please don’t fuss. I’m perfectly capable of sitting down on my own. I have the agility of a ballerina.”
“You’re using a walking stick,” Loretta muttered.
“I only use it occasionally, when I’m tired. I spent yesterday traveling.”
“Please make yourself at home, Mrs. Edgerton, um...” Ginny said, momentarily forgetting the rest of her name.
“You must call me Edna, my dear. You all must.” She addressed the table. “Well, I must say this is all very pleasant. I appreciate you bringing us all together like this, Ginny. It’s extremely kind of you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
They all made polite conversation until Nico finished laying the table. “I have made fresh butter,” he said proudly.
Ten minutes passed and Ginny peered at her watch. “We’re just waiting for one more person, Curtis,” she told her guests.
Heather sat rolling her thumbs and Edna’s rumbling stomach sounded like thunder.
Nico glanced at Ginny. “I will see if Signor Dunne is awake,” he said before disappearing.
A few minutes later, Curtis appeared. “Morning,” he said cheerily, though his eyes looked red and bleary. He was dressed from head to toe in white sports brands again, including a baseball cap.
Edna smiled tightly, fixing her eyes on it. Her stare sent a silent message to Curtis who sheepishly removed his hat and stuffed it into his pocket. As he sat down, he displayed a bald patch the diameter of a tennis ball in his thatch of black hair.
After Ginny had made all the introductions, the five of them tucked into breakfast. While eating her brioche, she couldn’t help glancing around the table at each of her guests. She knew heartbreak could be like a fractured bone, not always visible until x-rayed. It took time to heal and if you acted too fast, it could shatter. Even so, she longed to know why each of them was here.
Curtis tore off pieces of bread and stuffed them into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for days.
Edna gave him a gimlet-eye again and finished her bowl of cornflakes. She spoke loudly to Nico. “I’m looking forward to my cooked breakfast. I’d like scrambled eggs, not fried, please. Crispy bacon, not burnt. Please don’t grill my tomatoes and I’ll have mushrooms if they’re not served in butter. I have to watch my cholesterol levels.”
Nico’s smile flattened. “Scusa, non capisco.”
Loretta breezed in and deposited a jug full of freshly squeezed orange juice.
Edna turned to her instead. “Did you hear my requirements, dear? I’d like scrambled eggs, bacon—”
Nico swept his hand around the table. “This is the breakfast.”
Edna struggled to conceal her disappointment. “Oh, yes, a continental breakfast. Of course.”
