It had been a long old journey. Time and distance has slipped away under their feet into what seemed to be another world and in so many ways it was.

Poplar to Waterloo, Waterloo to Southampton, Southampton to Spain and now onto Freetown and every other place in between it seemed as their destination edged closer and anticipation rose.

Now, having been on trains and boats, husband and wife stepped off the rattly, rusty bus into what seemed to be almost blinding sunlight and heat; a place so far removed from rainy, grey London in March. Everything already was so far removed from that London in March and neither were entirely sure how to contend with it just now. It was a question that had not been raised and neither may be able to provide an answer even if it was.

Here it was though and as they stood on the side of the road and heard the bus move away as it scratched its way along, an eerie silence overcame them. So many words needed saying but they were too overwhelming to express that separately, both Peter and Chummy decided not to speak.

Finally, though, finally Chummy was realising an eternal dream that she had held so close to her heart since that diffident 14 year old girl began reading the Church Times all those years ago, wondering when her chance may come. It was never 'if'; it was always 'when' she would go to Sierra Leone. It never happening had never seemed to be an option to be contemplated or perhaps she had chosen early to ignore the fact to save her own sanity or indeed her skin if it came to it. It had taken so many more years, but above all, she had been right to trust herself even if it was eighteen years later that she was standing in this street.

Here she was then, tired of mind and body, but standing with the bright blue sky pouring down on her in place she never thought she might see. Here too, standing next to her was the man she might never have thought possible and well, another little secret that she was keeping close to her chest at least for now until she was completely sure.

How many of those secrets she had kept in her life and Sierra Leone had so far been the biggest. Mater never knew of her dream; no doubt going to dismiss even the notion as was her mother's usual want so it was almost not even worth talking to her about it. Chummy even knew that at the tender age when she would pore for hours over the rapidly dog-eared pages of the newspaper before hiding it under her mattress that Mater would never approve. She'd shared it with her brothers but they had just laughed at her. Funny that, it was only the girls (and Peter) that never given her that odd look as though she was talking gibberish when she mentioned Sierra Leone. Sister Julienne seemed to understand as well. The Sister had given her this chance after all and kept her job in Poplar open. Chummy didn't want to let her down or have to return to the East End with her tail firmly between her legs for being so foolish.

Yes, she knew it was risk. She wasn't that soft in the head. Yes, it was dangerous - as Peter did seem to keep reminding her with those quotes from those books he borrowed from the library - but, as she wobbled her way down the gangplank of the boat to the bus none of that seemed to matter one bit. Nobody could take this away from her now; except perhaps herself.

As the port faded behind them Peter was sure the almost strangling grip on his hand was getting tighter as each mile trundled along underneath them as they bounced around in the packed bus. Not that he minded – in fact he was trying not to smile as he saw her bright eyes as the towns and villages shot past. He was really rather excited at the prospect himself now, but seeing her face somehow made him even happier.

He'd known all along what her dreams were; proud and pleased that she had trusted him with the secrets of her heart from their very first date. She didn't have to do that and he had learned, as time had passed on, that he was in a more privileged position than most when it came to Sierra Leone.

Peter knew how much this meant to her, even if she might not admit it so even if she wouldn't - or indeed couldn't - he would make these dreams worthwhile and it started now.

Home for the next six months stood slightly off the road with a small well-kept garden and a knee-high black wrought iron fence marking its meagre boundaries. Behind seemed to be filled with other houses, perhaps some kind of storage building and what might once have been a garage tacked onto the side. A rusty Ford van that looked at one point whether it might have been white in distant years poked out from the door. Chummy smiled to herself. A small taste of home. She had seen a few of those trundling around Poplar.

The bus long gone the pair, standing on the other side of the road, cast their eyes heavenward almost not wanting to believe it was true. Not a cloud cluttered the vast expanse above them and the air was so clear.

For herself, Chummy suddenly felt more nerves fight through the excitement and for a second she was disappointed in herself. Then again when did she ever not feel that flickering in her stomach or the occasional palpitation dancing erratically in her chest? Peter, as he stood by her side as ever, felt pensive but that rush of adrenaline when they arrived at Freetown was still more of the enthusiastic kind as it swam in his stomach. This place was ripe for adventure and any doubts he had had of leaving Poplar were firmly contained the moment he set eyes on the bustling port. He had always wanted to travel the world one day. It had been Australia he wanted to go to first, but Sierra Leone was not a bad start.

He had been anxious about it once but as the day drew closer to leave Poplar it did feel rather right. How far they had come from the light he saw in her eyes over that dining table on that first date – he remembered it well – when she mentioned her plans. How heavy his heart had been when he had realised as he walked home through the darkness of the East End that those plans in time might not include him. Still though, now they were here, that sparkle seemed to have returned albeit dimmed for these last minutes as they stepped off the bus as her doubts raised their ugly heads.

Gently, he squeezed her hand to catch her attention and Chummy smiled. "Shall we?" he asked, his voice croaking. They had barely spoken throughout the whole bus ride and Peter's throat was dry as sand.

Carefully Chummy nodded and they set off across the road.