Chapter 16
Charlie scoffed the rubbery scrambled eggs, the tough toast, the cold tea. In the process of tearing the top from a tiny container of long-life orange juice, she managed to tip the lot down her front. Not a very auspicious start to the new year. She swore and dabbed at the spill with the scrap of paper napkin provided. Being no bigger than a postage stamp, it wasn’t much use. She wiped the stain with the sheet instead. What she wouldn’t do for a real breakfast right now. Charlie’s head sank back onto her pillow, eyes closed, and let her imagination take flight. Fried eggs on slabs of thick white toast, smothered in butter. Rashers of juicy bacon. Tomato halves, grilled until their skins turned black. Pan-fried field mushrooms.
The ringing phone jolted her back to reality. Char
