Читать книгу Future Popes of Ireland - Darragh Martin - Страница 13

Catherine was the one to venture downstairs, eventually. She’d have to check the clock and phone Peg and deal with the day, though not yet. First, breakfast. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of her body in the kitchen window. Her bare toes drummed against the lino as she eyed the steel toast rack suspiciously; she wished the toast would pop faster, afraid the spell would break if she stayed away too long.

They’d eat the toast in bed, she decided, not waiting until it cooled to butter it.

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