‘That makes it seem almost worthwhile to me,’ said Lucy, settling herself into the recliner opposite the straight-backed chair that the nun favoured.
‘Now, Lucy, I’m going to make us a cup of tea and we’ll begin.’ Margery stepped over to the little shelf under the window and flicked on the electric kettle she kept there. While the water was heating, she took two mugs and two teabags from the cupboard underneath the shelf and then, from her mini-fridge, she took a small jug of milk. When the tea was ready, she returned to her chair, passed a mug to Lucy and then put her own cup on the table in between them. She reached into the deep pocket of the gingham apron she had taken to wearing over her signature habit and brought out a hip flask.
‘Splash of whiskey in your tea, dear?’ she inquired
