Love is a BANANA SPLIT
Woman's Weekly|June 04, 2024
Did Mum's new boyfriend know the way to a woman's heart?
Barbara Compton
Love is a BANANA SPLIT

I save the cherries until last. Nana and I are at Stan's cafe. We come here every Thursday after school. We're eating banana splits served in boat-shaped dishes, decorated with loads of squirty cream, strawberry sauce and those bright red cherries.

This will be our last visit. A while back, Stan started winking at Nana - I assumed he had something wrong with his eye. Then he took her line dancing, and bought her a cowboy hat.

Two months ago, Stan decided to fulfil a lifelong ambition to open a cafe in Benidorm. He asked Nana to go with him. She said yes.

'You'll be able to come and stay, love,' she smiles.

I nod, my mouth full of vanilla ice cream.

'It's only a short flight away, Nana adds. 'Think of all that sunshine.'

It's not the weather I'm thinking about. I'm dreaming of free set the table. The doorbell It's the last night of our opped sparklers. they fizzle out Mum turns the banana splits in their cafe.

Mum and I have just waved them off. They have loaded up all their possessions in a white van and are driving to Spain. We all had a good cry, even Stan.

'I'm off out tonight,' Mum announces. 'Brenda next door says you can go to theirs and watch TV.'

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