by Mary Wood
‘Flora, I told you in my letter that your mother wasn’t well. How could you upset her, the moment you see her? I’m appalled at you. You will go to Aunt Amelia’s immediately, and not spend the planned few days here.’
Flora stood. ‘How nice to see you, too, Daddy.’
‘Yes, well, I – I . . . it is nice to see you. But this constant jarring of your mother’s nerves upsets us all, and if you cannot behave in a way that gives her some peace, then I shall have to see you when I can. That is all I can offer, Flora.’
‘It isn’t enough. Have you ever considered me, and my feelings, Daddy? Do you know what this rejection does to me? Do you care? You have—’
‘Flora! Stop this. I have done my best, I—’
‘Your best! Sending me away! Best for whom? I am your daughter, but apart from the first few years of my life, I have not spent a year in total under your roof and guidance, and I am almost twenty-one now. How is that your best? I have suffered because of your sin, Daddy. YOUR SIN, not mine. But you fared well, didn’t you? You remained in your home, while I – the innocent party – was cast out. You’re pathetic, and I will never, ever forgive you.’
George slumped down on the iron garden chair so hard that it swayed and looked as though it would fall over. Instinctively Flora reached out to grab his arm. His hand caught hers. His head bent over. Huge sobs racked his body. ‘I – I’m sorry. So sorry.’
Flora’s heart melted. He was her father, and much in the way her mother always did, she knew she would have to forgive him. Only in Mother’s case, there would always be conditions that Daddy had to adhere to. He chose those conditions over Flora’s happiness. She pulled her hand away.
‘You can’t apologize to me, Daddy. Not until you are prepared to love and protect me.’ Her own sobs joined his as she sat down. Swallowing hard, she composed herself. ‘I have substituted your love with one so great you will never experience giving anything like it – or receiving it. And that is what has sustained me. You and Mother have remained a longing in my heart, but the love given to me has helped me to cope without you.’
‘I – I don’t understand. Your friend, Millicent, and her family?’
‘No. Nanny Pru or, as I call her now, Aunt Pru.’
His face held shock.
‘Yes, the woman you defiled. The woman you cast out just as readily as you did me. She has been my rock all these years, and will continue to be in the future.’
‘But . . . how?’
With great satisfaction, she told him. ‘You only have your lack of care for me to blame. Any normal parent wouldn’t simply have accepted that I went to this stranger’s house each year. They would have made enquiries, perhaps made an effort to meet the family. But not you. You were just glad that I was somewhere – anywhere – that was out of sight. Well, now you know where it was . . . I – I hate you!’
‘No! No, please try to understand . . .’
His words merged with his sobs. Whether those sobs were for himself or for his realization that he’d lost her, she couldn’t tell. But at that moment, neither mattered. Rising, Flora walked away from him.
Chapter Five
‘Oh, Aunt Pru, I don’t believe it!’
‘What is it, lass?’
Aunt Pru looked up from the papers she was studying. She was sitting at her desk in the little room to the side of the school rooms in the basement of her house, which was designated as her office. From there she only had to walk across a hall to the cloakrooms and through them to be in the classroom.
The noise coming from that direction told Flora there was a class in progress. Aunt Pru had engaged a qualified teacher, and was in the throes of trying to gain registration as a government or church school, but both criteria were high, and such recognition was proving difficult. And so she remained with the status of ‘charity school’ – something she hated, as she thought it somehow stigmatized those who attended and marked them as not being worthy of a place at a ‘proper’ school. It was a happy school nonetheless, and Pru’s caring nature was a blessing for some of the little mites who attended.
Flora had settled well into living with Aunt Pru and Freddy and loved helping out, running a music afternoon for the pupils.
‘This message is from the St John Ambulance. It appears the Red Cross have been asked to send forty nurses to Belgium, because of the fighting taking place to prevent a German invasion. However, they haven’t got enough fully trained personnel, and they have asked St John’s to supply five of their highest-trained first-aid staff to join them. I have been specially asked to go. Even though I’ve been volunteering at the hospital, I never expected that I would be asked to help. It says there are five of us going to Brussels.’
‘What? When?’
‘Right away.’
‘Eeh, lass, this stinks. You’re not ready; your training was meant to last three months afore you could be accepted as a volunteer! It ain’t reet. Perhaps this is sommat to do with your ma – didn’t you say as how she was working on a Red Cross committee?’
‘That’s a possibility, but it’s more likely due to the fact that I can speak French and a bit of German, as the letter says these skills will be invaluable to the rest of the group. Besides, now that I’ve got used to the idea, I’m excited about the prospect. And it’s all to happen so quickly. I’m to report tomorrow!’
‘Eeh, lass, naw. Naw, you can’t go that soon. You’ve had no preparation.’
‘I have to go, Aunt Pru. I made my mind up, before I came home from Italy, that I would do my bit.’
‘But – but it’s all so dangerous. I’m going to be at me wits’ end while you’re out there.’
‘Don’t be, dear Aunt Pru. I’ll be safe. The Germans haven’t reached Brussels and may yet be pushed back. Besides, the Red Cross is afforded protection by all governments. We’ll all be fine.’
Freddy’s music interrupted them: an almost violent piece that stretched his violin strings to the limit, and pounded excitement through Flora’s veins. They both listened, without realizing how close together they’d moved. Aunt Pru’s hand drew Flora down, to sit in the chair next to hers. Her desk was surrounded by chairs because often the staff – cleaners, maintenance man and cook – congregated there.
The music was coming from an upstairs room, and was beautiful in its intensity. Flora had never heard it before, and guessed Freddy had written it himself. It expressed the anger that she knew his gentle nature felt at the state of the world, and his fear for her. Many times, over the last weeks, he’d begged her not to go abroad after her training. Had he heard her tell Pru that she was going tomorrow? She hoped not; she’d wanted to tell Freddy herself, and hadn’t seen him when she’d come into the office.
Clutching Aunt Pru’s hand, she bent close to her. ‘You should send Freddy to a school of music now, Aunt Pru. He is so talented. You must protect him, and his talent. Maybe Canada? He needs to develop more refined skills. They don’t have the same calibre of music schooling that there is in Europe, but he would be safe from the war, and would be learning from some professors of French origin who are renowned. I’ll help to pay for it. Daddy has increased my allowance – his conscience-money, which sticks in my throat, and yet at the same time I do feel that I’m entitled to it. I haven’t touched much of it and don’t intend to, especially as I will be paid a sum by the Red Cross each month, which will more than cover my needs.’
‘Eeh, naw, lass. You don’t think it’ll last long enough for them to want to take me Freddy, do you?’
Flora looked into Aunt Pru’s shocked face and realized that she hadn’t grasped the seriousness of what was happening.
‘It’s not going to be easy. You must prepare yourself, Aunt Pru. Francis, who knows a lot about current affairs, believes that, before long, many thousands of our young men will be called to arms.’
‘Naw! Eeh, Flora, surely all of those soldiers will cope with it and will stop the threat to us . . . ?’ Her troubled eyes stared at Flora. It w
as almost possible to see Pru’s brain absorbing what she’d heard. ‘By, Flora, what will become of us, lass?’
The music came to an end, leaving a tangible silence. Flora put her arm around Aunt Pru’s shaking body. She felt sorry that she’d caused her this distress, but glad to have awoken her to the reality of what was happening.
‘Think about it, Aunt Pru. Ask your solicitor to help you get Freddy to Canada. He will arrange everything. Quebec is best, as they have French traditions and their roots are in the arts and music. I would make the enquiries for you, but I have no time.’
‘By, lass, you’ve given me sommat to think about now. I’ll have a chat with Freddy. He has to have a say. But I hope that he goes. Eeh, I’d miss him. It don’t seem right, asking him to move away from home, and him only fourteen. But what choice have I? It’s that or risk that he has to go to war.’
This worried Flora as she knew that, despite his gentle ways, Freddy was excited by the prospect of fighting for his country when he was old enough to do so. ‘No, Aunt Pru, don’t leave it up to him. Make the arrangements and present him with them. Please. Make sure he goes. We must keep him safe.’
Aunt Pru’s sigh told of her indecision. ‘It wouldn’t be reet, lass. He has a lot of your father in him, with his music and—’
‘You knew about that?’
‘Oh, aye, I knaws a lot about George. You knaw, he hasn’t had it easy, and it ain’t easy for me to talk to you about this, but . . . well, we used to meet on me day off. He’d buy me tea and we’d talk. It were a while afore owt else happened.’
Memories of the incident between her father and Aunt Pru brought a tinge of colour to Flora’s cheeks. She’d always thought it had triggered her mother into turning even more against her, and had led to her being sent away to school. She didn’t say anything of this, but let Aunt Pru continue.
‘It might help you to knaw some of it, lass. Knawing of it helped me to forgive him some, though when I think of it all, it seems that what eventually happened was part of his plan. Making a friend and confidante of me made me feel special. I fell in love with him. Anyroad, he told me that he took after an aunt who were a renowned violinist, but she died young. Your da found a love of music, and of playing the violin, when he was at boarding school and wanted to take up a career as a musician, but his da was having none of it. He wouldn’t let George practise when he was at home, because the sound broke his heart. He’d adored his sister, and George said he mourned her passing till he died.’
Flora tried to imagine life without her own music, and an empathy that she’d never felt for her father seeped into her.
‘Anyroad, against his will, your da had to learn the workings of the mill that he still runs with his brother to this day. But after his da died, he started to branch out into opening shops that the mill could supply. This led him to move to London, where he met your ma and built a separate fortune. But like I say, none of that happened until after his da died, because he never had the guts to stand up to others. He never stood up to his da, but allowed his da to crush him. And he does the same with your ma. She don’t love him, but for some reason he won’t stand up to her and leave. She even wanted a divorce once, but no, he couldn’t face that. “Spineless” is what we call blokes like him, up north.’
‘Yes, I’ve witnessed that. But it helps to know why he is like he is. I never knew my grandfather, but he sounds a horrid, selfish man.’
‘Like Harold. I saw all of them traits in him, as a lad, and from what you’ve told me, they’ve come out more now that Harold’s a man. But me point in telling you all this is that Freddy, too, could easily be forced to do sommat against his will. But I’ve been careful not to let that happen. I’ve allus given him a say in any decision that affects him. So, naw, lass. I can’t make this momentous decision for him. It would be wrong. Whatever he chooses to do, I’ll respect. I’ll not make him spineless, like his da.’
This changed something in Flora’s thinking. Her father was made the way he was by another, more dominant influence in his life, but at least he hadn’t been spineless in the way he’d insisted that she was educated in a school that would feed her love of music. And she knew that arguing with Aunt Pru, on the matter of Freddy, wouldn’t alter anything. But although it pained her to accept Aunt Pru’s decision, she knew in her heart that it was the right thing for Freddy, although that didn’t stop her laying some foundations.
Making her way up the stairs to Freddy’s room, she tapped on the door. There was a hesitation before he invited her in.
‘Freddy, I need to talk to you.’
‘I know, Flors, I heard you tell Ma.’
This northern way of addressing his mother was the only concession Aunt Pru had made to Freddy speaking ‘The King’s English’, as she defined the way he spoke. She’d even gone so far as to have elocution lessons for him, in the days when she taught him herself. Since then, he’d gained a scholarship to Sutton County grammar school, giving him part-sponsored education, with Aunt Pru paying a half-fee of one pound and ten shillings a term. Freddy hoped, like all the boys who attended the school, to go on to university, but Flora feared that the war might change that for this generation of young men.
‘I thought you had some idea, and that is why you played that beautiful, fiery music – your way of expressing yourself, and relieving yourself of your feelings. But you mustn’t fear for me, little brother. The Red Cross workers are protected. But enough of that: I want to talk to you about your future.’
By the end of their conversation Flora knew, with a heavy heart, that Freddy wouldn’t be going to Canada or anywhere else . . . except, maybe, to war, if war still raged when he was old enough to join up. Her one hope was that it would all be over by then.
The excitement of the journey ahead was all Flora could think about as she boarded the Underground at Stepney to take her to Victoria Station, where she would finally meet her fellow travellers. When she arrived and stepped off the train, she stood for a moment wondering which way to go, until a voice attracted her attention.
‘Hey, over here. I see you’re one of us.’
The tall, pretty girl, with shining brown hair curling back off her face and hanging loose at the back, stood on the platform waving her arms at Flora.
‘Hello, I’m Mags – short for Margaret – and this here is Marjella, who tells me she is known as Ella. Are you off to Belgium, like us?’
Mags oozed confidence, but Ella just gave a shy smile.
‘I am. Isn’t it exciting? I’m Flora.’
Mags didn’t shake her outstretched hand, but took her into a big hug. ‘I’m from Blackburn, and in the North we greet people properly.’
With her hat now askew, Flora turned to Ella and giggled. ‘Nice to meet you both.’
Ella nodded. ‘I think we will go along together well; it is nice to meet you, too.’
Flora detected an accent in the precise way that Ella spoke, but couldn’t have said where she came from. Her features were precise, too, her mouth small, her nose straight and her hazel eyes didn’t give anything away, although when she smiled they twinkled, and this gave the overall impression of prettiness as her face lit up. Her hair was what you might term mousy, and was fastened back into a tight bun. Both girls, like herself, wore the Red Cross armband on the sleeve of their coat.
‘Come on, girls, we can get to know one another on the train; the others are in the second carriage. Apparently we are going to remain together when we arrive, so we wanted to wait here and meet you.’
‘I thought there were going to be five of us volunteers, and forty or more going altogether.’
‘There are, Flora, the train is full. But the other volunteers must all be assigned to a different matron and going to different places, as we were particularly introduced to this group and were told we were to keep with them.’
Flora’s bones ached from the three-day journey across land and sea, but the sight of the Hotel Metropole, in the Place de Brouckère in Br
ussels, lifted her. She’d imagined they would go to a camp somewhere and would have to rough it, but before her was this magnificent white building.
As they entered and were booked in, her attention was caught by the beautiful stained-glass windows, through which the sun sprayed a kaleidoscope of colour. From the marble walls to the columns and pillars that lined the reception hall, this place was exquisite. Flora had never seen such luxury or thought ever to stay in such a place, although her family must have done, as Harold once let it slip, in spite, that they had an annual holiday together at such a hotel. Funny, but this thought had never hurt her, until now. Always she’d had her own secret visits with Aunt Pru, and had felt that was better than anything her brothers could have with Mother and Father. But as she stood there and imagined the four of them together, in a hotel like this, her exclusion from her family ground the pain into her heart.
The look on the faces of both Mags and Ella told her that they, too, were overcome – though Mags probably less than Flora and Ella, from what she now knew of them both. They had chatted endlessly on the journey here, until Flora felt as if she’d known Ella and Mags all her life.
Mags seemed to have everything that was needed in life, and would one day inherit her father’s fortune. She had no siblings and her father owned a cotton mill. Her jolly nature made Flora feel that, together, anything could be achieved. The way she’d talked about the workings of the mill showed her love of the world of cotton-spinning and all it entailed. Mags had been fascinated to learn that Flora’s father owned a half-share in a mill in a neighbouring town to her own. ‘I could run my father’s business with my eyes closed,’ she’d said. But there was a different side to her, too. A caring side, and this had shown in her choice of joining the volunteer aid department. ‘Once I had an inkling that things weren’t so good in Europe, I took myself off to join the St John Ambulance. “Mags,” I said, “you might not be needed in the mill yet, but you are darned sure to be needed by the soldiers, if things are not resolved, so you had better be ready!”’ She’d gone on to say, ‘The St John was my best option, as they had a local branch. I’ve done three months with them in a hospital in Bradford, and loved it. So I may not be a qualified nurse, but I’m ready, willing and able.’