Evie woke the next day in a huddle of bedclothes on the floor, it was the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long time. Her temper had got the best of her the night before; soft toys laid scattered, old photos surrounded Evie and the heap of pillows and duvet. Even a Russian doll lay on its side looking mightily unimpressed.
She rose from amidst her cocoon of bed covers and flitted around the room quickly reassembling it into the shrine of meticulous perfection that it had been not eight hours before. She finished off with the Russian doll, measuring with a ruler the exact spot where it would stand.
Downstairs Maggie had emerged from unconsciousness and was trying dutifully to mask her hang over by cooking the girls a fry up. She smiled falsely.
Talli already sat at the table, a coffee in hand. The bruise around her eye socket had blossomed into an incredible purple. Her ear was crusted in blood where she must have knocked the wound during the night.
Evie sat opposite and looked at her across the table. Sorry, she mouthed. Talli nodded.
The smell in the kitchen made the girls salivate. The twins recognised that Maggie wasn’t perfect, but she was one hell of a cook. For Talli and herself, Maggie had cooked a phenomenal full English, and for Evie, a stack of beautiful blueberry pancakes.
The three of them sat and ate in a gastronomical silence; just the homely humdrum of knives and forks scratching at plates, clinking on glass and the occasional smack of lips reverberated through the room. The air was smoky and thick with the scent of spiced meats. Evie would usually spend a fry-up morning complaining about the stench, but today she was too preoccupied with the beautiful sweetness of her blueberries and soya pancakes.
Each of them guzzled at copious amounts of tea, coffee and fresh orange juice; the experience was a rare one, so the three of them valued the quiet time in which they all seemed content.
‘How’s the museum going Evelyn?’ Maggie managed between chews of a particularly tough piece of bacon.