For All Our Tomorrows Read Free Page B

She’d been half thankful, half regretful that the young officer who had almost knocked her down had not made an appearance, although she’d kept an eye out for him all evening.
    ‘Upstairs. Now!’
    Sara recognised the tone as one which must be obeyed. To defy him would put him in a sulk for days, make him more peevish and bossier than ever. He used to take out his ill temper on poor Valda, his long-suffering mother but since she’d passed away a couple of years ago, it was Sara who now suffered the brunt of his moods. Sighing softly, she slid quietly out from behind the bar and reluctantly pushed her way through the crowd.
    ‘Hey, you ain’t leaving us, are you, babe?’
    ‘I must go and check on my children,’ Sara excused herself with a smiling apology.
    One young man pulled her into his arms. ‘Say you’ll be back, honey, or I’ll die on the spot from a broken heart.’
    She couldn’t help but giggle at the outrageousness of their flirting. These boys were such fun. She slapped playfully at the GI, urging him to let her go. ‘Behave yourself, I’m a respectable married woman.’
    ‘Now that’s a big disappointment, cos I sure do like the other sort better.’
    Seeing Hugh’s glowering expression darken even further, Sara prised herself free and escaped. She could see that life wasn’t going to be easy with these newcomers around.
    As well as the marines, the place was humming with local girls, all of whom had been tempted in to meet these demi-gods at closer quarters, these Government Issue as the Americans had dubbed them.  
    Bette hadn’t shown her face in the bar all evening, but then she already had a date, didn’t she?
    Oh dear, Sara thought as she made her way up the stairs to their private quarters on the top floor, leaving her husband to cope with the chaos alone, this long anticipated ‘friendly invasion’ was going to create havoc, not only to the town but to their own little world within it. That much was obvious already.

 
    Chapter Three
    Bette Tredinnick was only too aware that she had the kind of looks that would turn any man’s head. She brightened her mouse brown curls with just a touch of henna and, as she said herself, if Sara was silver fair, her own charms were pure gold. She was also quite proud of her eyes, which some might call hazel but Bette described as a translucent green shot with flecks of gold. Add to that a small nose, prettily pointed chin and a mouth which lifted easily into an impishly tilted smile, not forgetting a petite and shapely figure, Bette held no illusions about her charms. She was a stunner, didn’t everyone tell her so?
    She’d certainly never had any difficulty in attracting the local boys, uncouth as most of them were, although much of the time she didn’t even bother as they really weren’t worth the effort. Love them and leave them, that was Bette’s motto.
    She dreamed of escape from the suffocation of small town living, of meeting someone handsome, rich and romantic who would whisk her away to a new, exciting life. She constantly kept a look out for new arrivals from the yachts and other craft which occasionally came up river; Londoners mostly, seeking respite from the war, retreating to their holiday cottages in Polruan or Bodinnick and lived in hope that one day Mr Right would be on board one of them.
    There was no sign of him so far, but how could there be when all decent young men were serving their country?  
    Besides, the trickle of escapees from the city had dried up long since and she was left with the likes of Tommy Kinver, too young and far too stupid to be allowed to fight. Or Dan Roskelly who worked on the docks and wouldn’t leave her alone for a minute, pest that he was.  
    The thought made her grimace as she tucked a stray curl in place and smoothed down the short skirt of her best frock, a leaf green crêpe-de-chine with a daring V-neck. Bette rather approved of utility fashions which fitted close to her neat figure and