January 1915Nora stopped by the baker’s. It was cooler under the verandah, though the north wind still swooped under her hat brim and plucked out strands of hair to flutter around her face. Her cousin Jenny was having the same trouble, holding her hat on with both hands.
‘Oh, do let’s go in, just for a minute! I must get out of this wind. Only think how ruinous to the complexion!’
Nora knew a momentary hesitation. Foolish, to think after all this time she’d be shy in the baker’s. She was a lady now, and far beyond any shyness of that sort. The last time she was in Semaphore was eight years ago. She drew herself together and opened the door for Jenny. After all, who knew what might have changed in that time? The sign still read Fletchers Bakery, but that was no guarantee the Fletchers wou
