The Cornish Guest House Read Online Free Page B

stopped to give her a stroke. Mitzi wasn’t much more than a kitten, really, with long fluffy fur and black-tipped ears. They’d got her after moving to Bag End and Rosie adored her.
    ‘Are you hungry?’ she said in a silly, baby voice, picking the creature up. ‘Poor lickle Mitzi.’
    Even though they’d been in the house since April, six months now, Liz still had to pinch herself when she walked through the door. She’d grown to love her previous home, the ground-floor flat of a smaller fisherman’s cottage, but looking back it had been rather a squeeze. Now, with Robert, they had three good-sized bedrooms, a proper little garden at the back, a decent kitchen and a small dining room for entertaining. But the real attraction, as far as Liz was concerned, was the original fireplace in the front room that they loved to sit around now that the weather had changed. She said it made the place a real home.
    After feeding the cat, Rosie plonked herself on a chair at the old pine kitchen table, scored with marks through years of use, and watched while her mother rootled in the fridge and cupboards to see what she could find.
    ‘I’m knackered,’ the girl sighed, ‘and I’ve still got some history to finish for tomorrow.’
    Liz’s pulse quickened. Her daughter had been doing so well in the year since they’d returned from Oklahoma, where she’d received proton therapy for a brain tumour. All the follow-up scans had been good and there was every reason for optimism but, still, Liz worried frequently; she couldn’t help it.
    ‘Do you want to have a lie-down?’ she asked, studying her daughter’s face for clues. She’d been fine earlier, but she’d been at school all day and maybe the visit to The Stables had been too much; they should have postponed it. ‘History can wait. I’ll write a note to the teacher, she’ll understand.’
    Rosie sighed. ‘Mu-um, I’m just tired, that’s all. I’ve had a really busy day. There’s nothing wrong with me.’
    She was accustomed to her mother’s fretting, but it irritated her nonetheless.
    Liz felt her body relax. She was overreacting; she must learn to control it.
    ‘Why don’t you go and finish your work now, then?’ she suggested, pulling out the chopping board and starting on a red pepper that she’d discovered in the salad tray, along with an onion, a knob of ginger, some green beans and red chillies. She’d settled on a chicken stir-fry. ‘You’d better get to bed in decent time.’
    Rosie sloped off and Liz switched the radio on quietly while she finished preparing the vegetables. As she jigged along to Mellow Magic, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time to focus on the amazing progress that Rosie had made, rather than dwell on her own anxieties. It was true that Rosie tired easily and needed to rest, that her appetite was poor and that she was more susceptible to coughs and colds than other children.
    Her short-term memory had also been affected, meaning that it took her longer to learn certain concepts at school, which she found frustrating. Sometimes her left leg shook uncontrollably because of damage to the neurological pathways, and she’d also lost her peripheral vision, though it didn’t seem to bother her unduly. Overall, though, she was doing extraordinarily well and, aside from regular three-month scans and physiotherapy, she was able to lead a remarkably normal life.
    No, Liz mused, fetching the wok from a drawer beneath the cooker and tipping in some oil, she really shouldn’t complain. After two years the scans would become six-monthly, dropping to once a year after five years. When that time came, they’d have a big celebration for sure, but there was already so much to be thankful for.
    It wasn’t long before she heard the sound of her husband’s key in the lock and she quickly wiped her hands on her apron and hurried down the hallway.
    His face lit up when he saw her. ‘Hey, you!’
    He looked terribly handsome. His hazel