Sarah

I look at the women in the sitting room, wondering if I should pinch myself to make sure this is real, and I’m not cooking this vision up in my muddled brain.

I have no idea where Cosette went, but Isla remains in her wingback chair, her legs crossed as she balances a steaming cup of coffee on her knee. Her head is slightly bowed as she speaks in low tones to Maddy, who is fluttering around a low lying coffee table, arranging cookies and pastries on a little tray.

Two queens. A mother and daughter by love and marriage with a bond forged by hard times.

My stomach...