the london non judging breakfast club.

1st chapter

The chauffeur opened the car door, I swung my legs out of the Mercedes and strutted towards the front door of the house.  People who don't know me could would probably think that I was one of those arrogant and snobbish girls who pay for everything with daddy's credit card and don't have to worry about a thing.  A week ago I would have totally agreed and laughed with you, but now that my mom died and I'm on my own, I can assure you that my confidence was just a front, because honestly I was glad I didn't twist my ankle in my Louboutins, due to shaking so badly.  I rang the doorbell and voilà a butler opened the door for me.  "Welcome to London, Miss Johnson. I'm Mr. Brompton, the head butler," he greeted me formally.  Since my voice was too shaky, I just mumbled a thank you and walked further into the entrance hall.  I knew our house in London only too well, after all, London was my mother's favorite city, so I didn't have to be told where all the rooms were.  "The bellboy will be taking all your luggage to your premises shortly. In the meantime, the staff would have prepared a small dinner if you were hungry after your flight," the butler explained.  I probably should have eaten something, my mum would have wanted it that way, but she was dead so an empty stomach was the least of my problems at the moment.  "Thank the staff very much for me, but I am very exhausted after the long flight and I would just like to go to bed," I answered as politely as possible. Mr. Bromoton nodded and said I could call him anytime if I needed anything.  I nodded, crossed the huge, bright entrance hall and climbed the marble stairs to the upper floor.  After a few rooms I reached my room, when I opened the door and looked in I almost cried.  Because my room looked just as perfect: the huge king-size bed, the large windows, the cozy bay window, the seating area and lots of other furniture in the English cream-colored style.  But I wasn't the perfect Meghan Johnson I used to be.  After such a long journey from New York, I was finally able to take off my heels.  These were theown into the next corner and I checked my smartphone for any messages, actually only if my dad had send some.  Nothing.  No new messages.  Of course, if you disregard the thousand messages that Nate and Blair texted me.  Yes yes, ok I admit it was my fault because I left New York without any goodbyes.  Someday they will forgive me.  Hopefully.  Of course, when I checked my news homefeed, there was a lot of news posted about my disappearance by Gossip Girl and some about my dad's stock going down.  So I decided to switch off my cell phone completely and look for pajamas.  However, apart from a few clothes and shoes, my closet was empty and my luggage hadn't arrived yet, so I ran to my mother's closet.  And sure enough, there was a silk nightgown hanging in her closet.  When putting on the nightgown, it smelled exactly like my mother's signature perfume.  And that led me to let my tears flow freely.  It was the first time I cried since the funeral.  I sank to the ground and cried until I fell asleep from exhaustion.

Bright rays of sunshine woke me up the next day.  My back hurt like hell, most likely from falling asleep on the hardwood floor, and my eyes were sticky from crying.  Luckily, my hair was still styled into elegant waves.  I rummaged in my Chanel bag for concealer to cover the worst of my face.  Thanks to my life on the Upper East Side, I was able to hide teary eyes well.  Realizing now that I could get some breakfast down, I made my way to the dining room.  Probably the staff had already prepared some breakfast.  The staff greeted me politely as I opened the door to the dining room, but that wasn't what surprised me.  I was amazed at the person sitting at the table eating scrambled eggs as if trying to complete an Advanced Eating Contest.  After a few seconds he noticed me and looked up and said "Good morning Meggy or should I rather say Miss Johnson"