‘Lovely, ain’t they?’ Mo said.

‘I’ve never seen nothing like them,’ Sarah replied. ‘They’re beautiful.’

‘Samuel painted them. He’s an artist, and was getting quite a name for himself in Jamaica. Trouble was, his younger brother saw one of them ads about the better life in Britain and got sucked in by it. Samuel didn’t want to let him come across alone, so they both got a cheap ticket on the Windrush ship, and now the best he can hope for is a stinking job on the railway.’

‘Couldn’t he sell his paintings?’ Sarah asked.

‘He tried, but people round here ain’t into this sort of art. It’s a bit too “foreign” for them. He tried over Chelsea way, but none of the galleries were interested in him. It ain’t easy being a black man in a white man’s country.’

Sarah had never thought about it before. She’d seen signs outside some boarding houses saying, ‘No blacks or Irish’, but she’d never understood why. She stared at one of the paintings as Mo rushed around throwing some clothes into a bag.

‘I’ll just scribble him a quick note to let him know where I am,’ Mo said.

Sarah nodded, hardly noticing what Mo had said. She found the paintings fascinating and wondered if Samuel was as striking as his artwork. Then, to her surprise, she felt her belly flip as the thought of Roger popped into her head. She’d found him striking too, and cringed at the memory of their first meeting and her dumbstruck behaviour. She didn’t have anything to give to George to sell, but nonetheless she’d visit the market tomorrow and hope to bump into Roger again.

Chapter 14

It was unseasonably warm for March, and as always, Fridays were good days for George. He’d found that women loved to have something different to wear for a weekend night out, whether it be a dance or the cinema. So, every Friday morning, he’d set his stall up to display his fanciest goods. Today was no exception, and the pleasant weather promised to bring him plenty of custom. His star item this week was a fur stole he’d acquired from a house clearance of an elderly lady who had passed away. As he placed it in a prime position, he thought it oozed class and elegance, then thought how lovely it would look across Sarah’s shoulders. He could imagine her wearing it, but wished he hadn’t, as now he knew he’d be stuck with her image in his head for the rest of the day.

‘That’s right nice, that is …’ Roger said.

‘Yes, it is,’ George replied and turned to look at his friend.