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Against the backdrop of an elegant Cornwall mansion before World War II and a vast continent-spanning canvas during the turbulent war years, this involving story tells of an extraordinary young woman's coming of age, coming to grips with love and sadness, and in every sense of the term, coming home...
In 1935, Judith Dunbar is left behind at a British boarding school when her mother and baby sister go off to join her father in Singapore. At Saint Ursula's, her friendship with Loveday Carey-Lewis sweeps her into the privileged, madcap world of the British aristocracy, teaching her about values, friendship, and wealth. But it will be the drama of war, as it wrenches Judith from those she cares about most, that will teach her about courage...and about love.
Teeming with marvelous, memorable characters in a novel that is a true masterpiece, Coming Home is a book to be savored, reread, and cherished forever.
danced with firelight, and lamplight, and glittering Christmas baubles. She saw Aunt Lavinia, majestic in black velvet and diamonds, already ensconced in an armchair by the fireside, with the Colonel and Tommy Mortimer and Edward standing grouped about her. They held glasses and were talking, and so did not notice Judith, but Aunt Lavinia spied her immediately and raised her hand in a little gesture of welcome, and the three men turned to see who had interrupted them. Conversation ceased. For an
was unblinking. She reached for her shandy and took a mouthful, and then quickly laid the glass down again because her hand had started to shake. She could feel her heart pumping in her breast, and the blood drain, like water through a sieve, from her cheeks. Billy Fawcett. She had neither seen him nor heard of him since the day of Aunt Louise's funeral. As the years had passed — and now being fourteen seemed a lifetime away — the trauma of her girlhood had gradually faded. But never totally
had a dog before!’ ‘We've got one now. She's Ned's.’ ‘What a sweet person. Hello, Morag. How long has she lived with you?’ ‘Two months. Come on, don't let's stand here and talk. Where's your luggage?’ Biddy opened the back door of the Morris and pulled Judith's case off the seat. ‘Is this all?’ ‘It's all I need.’ ‘I hoped you were going to stay for ages.’ ‘You never know,’ said Judith, but there was no laughter in her voice. ‘Perhaps I will.’ They went indoors. Biddy locked the front door
fresh air. Judith unbuttoned her oilskin and laid it over a carved wooden chair, where it dripped onto the flagstones. Then she went to peer into the pram, to feast her eyes on the lovely sight that was Clementina. Fast asleep, with fat peach-pink cheeks and her dark silky hair on the frilled lawn pillowcase. She had been bundled into a gossamer Shetland shawl, but somehow had fought one arm free, and her starfish hand, with its chubby, braceleted fist, lay, like an offering, upturned, on the
there didn't seem to be anybody about. ‘Do you think we should ring and let them know we're here?’ Molly asked. She was always timid of trespassing, fearful of some angry figure appearing to give her a row. ‘No, don't let's. If anybody asks us what we're doing, we'll simply tell them…’ She was looking at the house and saw that the main part was quite old, with stone sills to the windows, and an aged Virginia creeper clambering up the granite stone walls. But beyond this original building lay a