“Smells good in here,” said Maeve, handing her coat to Gemma to hang up and taking a seat.

The others mmm’d in agreement.

“If the weather gets any worse, I’m camping out here for the night,” Sally joked.

“You can sleep in Alfred’s spot, since he’s gone civilian,” said Maeve.

Sally looked inquiringly at Annie, and Annie explained.

The women took their places. Four editions of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall in various states of repair were placed on the table. Spirits were high this evening, not least because of their adrenaline-fueled journey down to the Nook. The boisterous storm was making itself heard in the café, so that they needed to talk louder than usual to be heard, and the draft was enough to keep the candles permanently a-flicker, but it felt warm and cozy in the orangey glow of the lamps.

Maeve filled everyone’s glass with hot dark-fruits punch, while Annie sliced the pizza she’d made and brought it steaming to the table.

“I mean,” said Gemma, pulling at a long of string of mozzarella still attached to her pizza slice, “it could have been a lot simpler if Helen and Gilbert had just been honest and frank with each other from the start.”

“Would have made for a shorter story, though,” said Annie.

“I kind of like the way the story meanders itself out, like a lazy river,” said Sally.

“Nice touch, with the whole thing being written via letters and diaries,” added Maeve. “A good way to split narrators.”

“The whole thing was making me ache because Helen and Gilbert are clearly in love, but so many misunderstandings are keeping them apart,” said Gemma.

“Well, you weren’t supposed to leave your rat-bag husband in those days,” said Annie.

“Unlike you,” Maeve guffawed through a mouthful of garlic bread.

The women laughed.

“Only I won’t be rushing back to nurse him when he gets knob-rot!” Annie said.

“Ooh, but who is your Gilbert?” asked Gemma, winking exaggeratedly.

Annie flushed.

“Aye-aye,” said Sally. “What’s all this, then? Got a fella, have you, Annie?”

At that moment, the café door crashed open; the wind caught it and slammed it hard against the wall. The women screeched and the candles blew out. John stood in the doorway, windswept and soaking.

Chapter 79

There was a flurry of indignant curses.

“Holy fuckwits!” yelled Sally.

“You’re not in my will, John, so it’s no use trying to frighten me to death!” Maeve declared loudly. “And shut the bloody door!”

Gemma’s comments amounted to a series of unintelligible squeaks.

“John, what the . . .” Annie began. She could tell from his face that something was very wrong. Oh God, please don’t let something have happened to Mari, she thought.