She ordered tea with milk and sugar, eying the currant buns and sweet mincemeat tarts displayed beneath a bell jar. Later, perhaps, when her appetite returned. At the moment her stomach was twisted into a knot.
“Anything else for you?” the cashier asked as she handed over the tea, steaming and fragrant.
Meg was surprised to find her fingers trembling when she lifted the cup. “All I want is a safe journey home.”
“On a day like this?” the round-faced woman exclaimed. “None but the Almighty can promise you that, lass.”
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