CHAPTER THIRTY
Wednesday. Sleeping was next to impossible. Charlotte tossed and turned for a while and gave up, sliding out of bed to go and make tea. While the kettle boiled, she stared at her reflection in the living room window. Wrapped in a long, cuddly dressing gown, hair in two plaits after the shower, she looked young and a little bit lost.
“I don’t feel young.”
The whistle of the kettle sent her to the kitchen. It was true. The worries about the fire, and Rosie, and whoever this woman was who looked like Alison—all weighed on her.
Tea in hand, she curled her feet under herself on the sofa. Only one lamp was on. The apartment was warm enough and the cup offered comfort on a primal level as the scent of the tea teased her senses.
She needed to practice yoga again. The kind more
