3.21
Saturday and she woke again low in spirits. She lay on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She heard footsteps in the hall. There was a knock and Heather peered round the door and asked if she fancied a cuppa before disappearing back to the kitchen. Yvette turned on her side then raised herself upright, kicking aside the twin-rearing guidebook she’d been reading last night. She pulled on a thin dressing gown and traipsed across the hall.
‘You look tired,’ Heather said.
‘I’m okay, well, sort of.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I’m exhausted.’
‘I can imagine.’ Her voice was warm. ‘I thought you might be feeling weighed down.’
The kettle boiled and Heather poured the water into two large cups. Then she went to the pantry and took out a large round tin. ‘Tell me when,’ she said, knife pois
