Breakfast Under A Cornish Sun (2016) - Plot & Excerpts
In and out. And again. Anyone would think I was about to give birth. Well, Saffron would, seeing as my waist measurement was more than twenty-four inches. I smiled. Dear Johnny had well and truly extinguished any teenage insecurities I might have still harboured about not being a size zero. Curves were his thing—on the hips, on the lips—so I always said it would be rude not to maintain my womanly look—code he understood for always giving me the last slice of a pizza. I took one last breath and headed across the car park into the Dog and Duck. Not that I was anti-slim women. That was the difference between Saffron and me. I didn’t care what anyone looked like as long as they were kind. It was hard to think of Saffron as a teacher now. I grimaced, just imagining her having class favourites, all the popular kids with the best phones, coolest rucksacks and doting hangers-on. I stopped in front of wooden swing doors. It was an olde worlde Tudor pub, the slightly wonky white-and-black front somehow inviting me in.
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