Page 47 of The Village of Lost and Found

‘I know,’ she replied, placing the bread in the toaster. ‘I thought I’d get used to it, but it just seems to get worse day by day. Don’t ever employ Bridget to decorate your home.’

‘Bridget?’ Tom frowned. ‘Is that the one with the voice that can strip wallpaper?’

Lucy laughed. ‘That’s her.’

When it popped up, she buttered the toast and, after checking that he liked marmalade as well, carried over a couple of plates to where he was sitting.

‘Thanks,’ he told her as she handed him the plate of toast. ‘Not sure I can face this, to be honest.’

‘Try. You’ll feel better for it,’ she said. ‘Do you want your sweatshirt? I’m feeling a bit chilly and could do with borrowing it.’

Not waiting for him to answer, she picked it up and pulled it over her head. His immediate thought was that it looked much better on Lucy than it did on him.

They ate their toast in silence for a moment or two. But after finishing eating, Lucy brushed her hands of crumbs and appeared to take a deep breath.

‘Right. You need to talk to me about the newspaper,’ she said.

Tom looked at her, the toast becoming a hard lump in his throat that was suddenly difficult to swallow. ‘The newspaper?’ he asked, with a croak. He had hoped he had already convinced her that she should stay. In fact, the thought of her leaving made him feel even worse, if possible.

‘Is it in trouble?’

Her words surprised him. ‘Why would you think that?’ he said quickly.

‘Call it my female powers of perception,’ said Lucy before giving him a wry smile. ‘That and you told me when you were drunk last night.’

Tom sighed. ‘What did I say?’

‘Enough for me to spend the night tossing and turning,’ she said. ‘So come on. Be honest.’

‘You don’t want me to do that,’ he said, shaking his head, and then wished he hadn’t.

‘Why not?’ she asked, softly.

‘Because it might not be the answer you’re looking for,’ he said.

Lucy didn’t reply. She just sat and watched and waited for him to speak again.

It was no good. He was going to have to be honest with her. After passing out and spending the night on her sofa, surely she deserved that?

He took a deep breath. ‘OK. I’m going to be serious.’

She frowned. ‘Now you’re really worrying me.’

He hesitated before finally saying, ‘We’re losing it.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, looking confused. ‘What are we losing?’

‘The fight,’ he told her, sagging at the relief of finally being able to tell someone. ‘The newspaper’s going to have to be shut down.’

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Lucy stared at Tom in disbelief as his words sank in. Had she misheard him? She was pretty certain that she hadn’t.

‘What do you mean the newspaper’s going to have to be shut down?’ she said, still astonished. ‘It can’t. It just can’t.’

Tom sighed heavily. For once there was no joke. No sarcasm. He looked tired and beaten. This wasn’t just a hangover, thought Lucy. This was the awful truth.

‘Well, we can’t let the paper go under,’ she said, still horrified at the thought. ‘It’s so important to Uncle Frank. It’s all he has these days.’