Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
His smile is small but blazing. “There’s somewhere we need to be.”
“There is?” I look over my shoulder.
“Somewhere here in Brighton.” He picks me up and walks us back to our pile of socks and shoes.
“Where?” I collect them up, my feet too wet to even entertain putting my shoes back on, and we start to walk barefoot back to Luke’s car.
“Remember I said I found Milly Rose?”
I falter in my pace. “Yes.” There’s excitement in my voice that nothing could extinguish. We’re in Brighton. Of course.
Luke smiles and nods. “She lives a mile up the road.”
“And we’re taking her to Pops?” Another nod. “Does he know?” A shake of his head. I squeal. I can’t help it. And then without thought, I launch myself at Luke, nearly smacking him around the head with my swinging shoe. He catches me with ease, laughing. “He’s going to pee his old pants.”
His laughter increases as he carries me back to his car. “He may well do,” he agrees. “He may well do.”
As soon as we get in the car, Luke cranks the heating up and my feet begin to thaw out. We wrestle in the small space to get our shoes back on before Luke pulls off. The drive to Milly’s takes only a few minutes, and Luke slows down to a crawl when we hit the right street, looking around between keeping an eye on the road. “It’s around here somewhere. Look out for number four.”
“There’s number ten,” I point out as we roll past. “It must only be a couple of houses up.”
“There.” Luke pulls into a parking space and points across the road to a small bungalow with a pretty, well-kept front garden and curtains in a busy floral material hanging at the front window. “I feel a bit nervous.” He looks at me, somewhat blank. “This woman feels like a legend to me, and now I’m going to meet her.”
His nerves are endearing, and I reach over to his knee and squeeze. “Is she expecting us?”
“No, this was a bit spontaneous. I said I’d call.”
“What if she’s not home?”
“Then we drove an hour to freeze our toes off.” Luke gets out of the car, his eyes rooted to the quaint bungalow across the road. I walk around to join him and knock him from his daydream by placing my hand in his.
“Ready?” I ask.
His line of sight doesn’t waiver. “Ready.”
We wander across the road and up the narrow, paved pathway to a bright red front door. A sign on the letterbox states “No Doorstep Sales.” Luke laughs and points at it. “She thought I was a salesman when I called.” He raps the door and stands back, wriggling his tie into place. Both of us are silent while we wait, listening for any signs that someone is coming to the door.
“I don’t think she’s home,” I say, looking at Luke. The disappointment on his face is rife. “Maybe you should call?”
His shoulders drop, his knuckles tapping the wood of the door again before he reaches to his inside pocket to get his phone. He starts to dial when we hear something come from beyond the wood. I hold my breath, as does Luke, as a catch sounds, followed by another, and another, before the door finally pulls open, revealing a dear old lady with a walking stick. Her bobbed hair is shiny silver, her body round, her bosom beneath her floral blouse ample. The wrinkles on her face are deep, but her skin so smooth. One look at Luke sends her old hand to the edge of the door to hold on, her thin lips parting. “Goodness me,” she breathes, old, clear eyes full of wonder. “Well, I needn’t ask who you are, dear.”
I look at Luke and see a stretched smile. “Hello, Milly.”
“I feel like I’ve been transported back to 1946. Look at you.” She wobbles forward on her stick, reaching for Luke’s cheek, feeling, smoothing, looking at him in disbelief.
“I’m a bit older than Pops was when you met him.”
“So handsome.” Her hand pulls back, going to her mouth, her fingertips resting on her lips. “Oh dear, this is all a bit too much.” She wobbles, and Luke shoots forward to steady her.
“Are you okay, Milly?”
“Yes. Yes, dear. It’s been a long time since my knees have gone weak.” She can’t take her eyes off Luke, her whole being truly astonished. “Come in, come in.”
My heart swells at the scene playing out before me—Luke’s tenderness, the endearing shock of Milly. I watch on a small smile as he helps her down the tiny hallway, his big body nearly filling the space. She points her walking stick to a charming room on the right, and I follow them in, gazing around at the chintzy space cluttered with furniture that’s too big for the tiny bungalow, every surface loaded with bric-a-brac, trinkets, ornaments, and figurines.