Page 87 of Brighter Days for the Cornish Girls

‘No, love.’ Sheila managed a smile. ‘Cornwall’s my home now. That’s where my family is and that’s where I’m staying.’

Gently, Bernie took her arm, and she stumbled on, haunted by the ghosts of her past. But then she saw it and came to an abrupt halt.

‘Oh Gawd … It’s still standing.’

‘What is?’

‘Number 27.’ Sheila gave a cracked laugh. ‘Wait till I tell Vi and the girls. Oh, and will you look at that front door? Someone’s painted it bright yellow. Well, I never.’ She walked past her old house, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘Looks like a bloomin’ banana.’

Bernie put his arm about her, seeming relieved that she’d stopped crying. ‘Listen, let’s go back to the hotel, have a slap-up dinner and start our honeymoon in style. We can forget we ever came here.’

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ Sheila told him, steering her husbandthe other way. ‘I don’t want a slap-up meal, love. There used to be a little caff just around this corner, if it survived the bombs, and I fancy a nice cuppa tea, don’t you?’

And Bernie laughed, going with her willingly.