by Mary Wood
In a shaky voice, Francis agreed with this. ‘That’s how it should have been. What have you ever put into those shops? Nothing! You didn’t know they existed, until you and she—’
‘That’s enough. I won’t stand for any of you attacking Flora. You know the truth of what happened. Now, I will only agree to signing the shops over to the three of you: Flora; you, Harold; and you, Francis. And I will appoint an accountant to oversee Flora’s interest in the business. And that is my final offer.’
After a moment Harold snapped. ‘Then, I for one, will take your first offer. I don’t want to be in a partnership with someone who contributes nothing and yet takes a one-third share. Sell the bloody lot and have done with it!’
‘Francis?’
‘I agree. Flora won’t do anything to help run the shops, so why should she have anything of them? She shouldn’t even be getting a share of the sale!’
‘Flora is owed a lot more than you will ever be. You have been taken care of and given a home. That should have been done for Flora; it was her right, too.’
‘I can see that she has fed you a load of lies. She hasn’t told you how she haunted our mother’s every waking hour, has she?’
‘Yes, but she didn’t commit the sin that hurt your mother – your father did. Anyway, I don’t see the point in discussing this further. I’m disgusted that you, as her brothers, never offered her any protection, or stood up to your parents on her behalf. I want this finished with, and then I want you out of my life. I will never call you my brothers. I am too ashamed to.’
Francis jumped up, but Harold caught hold of him. ‘Leave it. We know the truth. Mother always told us, didn’t she? We’ll have the last laugh. Mother’s Will leaves everything to us. She showed it to me. So, that means we have the house, as well as what Father left us, and our share of the sale of the shops, so I think we have done very well in the end.’
‘Harold, you can’t hurt me,’ Flora insisted. ‘I bear a deep hurt that nothing you can do will ever surpass. I want nothing of Mother’s. I’m proud of Cyrus, but I can never be proud of either of you. Cyrus, shall we leave?’
‘Yes, I will get everything drawn up as soon as I can. You will be hearing from John Wright in due course.’
As they turned to leave, Mags called out Flora’s name. Flora turned to see Harold pulling her roughly back into her chair. She went over to Mags and knelt beside her. ‘Mags, don’t go through with this, please don’t.’
‘I – I need to tell you—’
‘Mags, for Christ’s sake!’
Despite this from Harold, Mags continued, ‘I need to tell you, Flora, not to lose touch. You have my address.’
Flora somehow knew that wasn’t what Mags had intended to say. She was sure now that a plan had been hatched to bring about something bad to Cyrus, but that Mags had intervened and it had all gone horribly wrong. She decided that, whatever it was, it was best left now. She patted Mags’s hand. ‘I’ll write. Don’t worry about it all – I understand. Take care.’
As they left, Flora had the feeling that she might never see Mags again. What had happened today had placed Mags firmly in Harold’s clutches. But she decided that she would let Mags know where she was in France, and that she would always be there for her.
This thought brought Ella into her mind. She had been negligent, where Ella was concerned. The moment they were settled in France, she’d write to the address she had for Ella, so that she knew where to contact Flora, if she wanted to. She hoped Ella did, for although time had changed her, she still thought of Ella and Mags as her sisters.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Flora felt no grief for the passing of her parents. She had grieved for them a long time ago. But agony encased her days and nights for the loss of her little Alice, and this was compounded by separation from her beloved Cyrus, when she needed him more than she had ever done.
They dared not meet often and, when they did, it was usually in the company of the solicitor. They feared the harm that Harold might do to them. He knew that they were seeing each other, as they had to, to sort through the legal tangles of the Will; but they both longed for some private time together.
Three weeks had passed since the day her mother had died. There were to be no further investigations. From the medical reports and the statements given by them all, the coroner had concluded that Grace’s death had been accidental, during a family argument, and had been contributed to by the deceased’s own actions. Flora hadn’t been invited to the funeral, and only knew it had taken place through a notification in the paper.
And now as she stood in her kitchen – the place of so much love, happiness and, yes, deeply ingrained hurt – she stared at the box on the table in front of her. It had been found inside one of the many safe-deposit boxes left by her father. Most had contained either cash, which he hadn’t declared in his tax returns, or share certificates in various names, and the address of the broker who would access these and sell them for Cyrus. One box had been for her, and another for Olivia.
The letter inside the box lay on top of a bundle of notes that amounted to one thousand pounds, and a beautiful diamond necklace, earrings and bracelet set.
Reading the letter reduced her to tears. Not of sadness, but of anger and frustration with a man who had cast her out for the sake of his own peace. A peace he sought through revenge on his deathbed:
My dearest Flora,
By now you will have had the day that I planned for you – the reading of my Will. I will rest in peace, knowing that your mother will hear the truth of my feelings and see that I hadn’t forgotten you. It will hurt her even more that I linked you with my eldest son. I need to hurt her. She has inflicted so much pain on me.
I know that my son’s existence will have come as a surprise to you, but he was born of my great love for his mother, Olivia, whom you will also meet.
Flora sighed. Oh, the webs we weave. How shocked you must have been, Father, to hear that Cyrus and I knew each other more than you could ever dream we would. A shock that finally killed you.
I could not go so far as to leave you something in my Will, not publicly, as I didn’t want to inflict more pain on you, because you would have suffered at the hands of your brothers and your mother, as a way of getting back at me.
And so I chose a channel for my love for you, through the son who doesn’t know me, or you or your brothers, but most importantly hasn’t been influenced against you by the wickedness of your mother.
I haven’t been able to prepare you or him, or his mother, as I could not admit your existence to my beloved Olivia. She has always believed that I was living in name only within my marriage, as divorce wasn’t possible for me. But the truth is that I did love your mother, but she eroded that love over the years. All this is her fault. If she had been a loving wife, I would not have strayed.
Flora lifted her eyes heavenwards. In that lay the basis of your weak personality: that you blame everyone for your own failings. Your words show that you didn’t grasp how much you would hurt Olivia – and did hurt her – when she found out about me. The hurt at that time was doubled, as she also found out about my dear nanny, Aunt Pru, and how badly you served her. The letter went on in the same vein:
But let me address my treatment of you, as you are now hearing the truth about your mother. She blackmailed me into treating you the way I did. She would have ruined me, and inflicted hurt on my beloved Olivia. My final casting you out was your own fault, as you well know.
A tear plopped onto Flora’s cheek. So, your own pride and survival meant more to you than me? As did saving Olivia pain? ‘I WAS JUST A CHILD . . . A CHILD. AND YOU WERE MY FATHER! YOU SACRIFICED ME!’ The words screamed from her. Her hand shook the letter in the air. All the pain that her father had made her suffer came from her, as she wailed and ranted at him, screaming the words she would have liked to have said to him in life.
Calming herself, Flora thought that she could almost hear Aunt Pru: Don’t worry about wha
t you can’t change, lass. And she knew that none of what was upsetting her could ever be changed. Taking a deep breath, she read the final paragraphs:
But I forgave you, as my actions now have shown. The necklace set I bought on your twenty-fifth birthday. As I could not give it to you, I placed it in this box for you to receive after my death, when you will know the extent of my love for you, which I hope you now realize, from the actions I have taken.
The money is in the hope that you meet someone to love, and is to fund your wedding day, as it is a father’s duty to pay for such an occasion. If you are already married by the time you get this, then have a second honeymoon on me.
Reading the last lines of the letter, Flora felt strangely released from a burden she’d carried all her life – the burden of her father’s sin.
And so, my darling daughter, with all the hurt laid to rest, I hope that you have a happy life, safe in the knowledge that I loved you very much and was always very proud of how you rose to the challenge of the war.
Your loving father x
The kind of love George Roford gave wasn’t the kind of love that she, or anyone, needed. Flora knew that now. It was manipulative and self-centred. He and Mother had deserved each other.
Closing the box, she decided that she would never wear the necklace set. Now that she was secure in her finances, she would give it to the Salvation Army to auction, to raise funds for them. There was still so much of the aftermath of war to address: homeless people, invalided men who couldn’t work, and families with no man to care for them. Flora had always wanted to help them in some way, but had ended up needing the same help they did. And, before she left for France, she would give the thousand pounds to the Red Cross. That is my goodbye to you, George Roford, because even in your final act of making sure I was taken care of, you haven’t redeemed yourself.
Going to the sink that stood under the window, Flora scooped some water from the bucket standing on the draining board, which she had collected rainwater in, and swilled her face with it. As she dried herself, the door next to the kitchen sink opened.
‘Can I come in, Flora, love? I’ve brought half of the pie I baked. I thought that you and Freddy would enjoy it. I can’t stop making enough food for two.’
Flora smiled. She knew this was an excuse. Mrs Larch, like the rest of her neighbours, liked to make sure she ate. They didn’t know that her circumstances had changed. She must think of a way that she could thank them, before she left.
‘How are you, love? I can see your pain. Only none of us have liked to bother you too much.’
‘You’ve all been wonderful. I’m all right. Getting through each hour as best I can. As you know, it’s the only way.’
‘It is, but you’ve ’ad more on your plate than most. I – I, well, I’ve brought the Evening News in with me. There’s a lot of people shocked by the latest ’appening. We can’t believe it, of you and Cyrus, so I’ve been asked to . . . Look, we don’t want to ’urt you, love. We know as there’s a mistake ’appened somewhere along the line, but . . .’
Flora’s heart missed a beat. ‘What is it, Mrs Larch? Have you read something in the paper?’
‘I ’ave. And but for you and Pru, I wouldn’t ’ave been able to, a few months ago. Though I dare say as Mrs Harper would ’ave brought it to our attention. Anyway, there’s an article as says that you and Cyrus—’
‘We didn’t know. Please believe me. We weren’t charged, because the police knew our story to be true. We only found out on the day that Alice died. Our marriage has been annulled.’
‘Oh, poor love. I thought it would be something like that, only the paper indicates as you knew and still went ahead.’
Flora took the paper and scanned the short piece about herself and Cyrus: ‘Couple Found Out in Incestuous Marriage . . .’ The wording was very clever, in that it indicated that their sources had informed them that the couple lied their way out of being prosecuted and jailed; and yet there was nothing in the article that they could be sued over:
Court records show that the marriage has been annulled and that the couple are not ever to live together again. However, our source tells us that they are still close – closer than a brother and sister would normally be expected to be.
Harold! His jealousy of Cyrus knew no bounds. So, dear brother, you choose revenge. Well, two can play that game!
‘By the looks of your face, love, I reckon as the so-called “source” had better watch out.’
Flora smiled at this. ‘The important thing is that you, and everyone, believe me. Sit down, Mrs Larch, I’ll make a cup of tea and then tell you how it all happened.’
‘It’s none of mine or anyone else’s business, love. I just wanted to ’ear from you that it weren’t true.’
‘I know. But I want you to hear, as further things have happened that will take me away from you, and I haven’t thanked you or any of the others for the help given to me over the terrible time of Alice’s passing, and . . . well, the food and coal and everything. I am so grateful. I – I have been through so much that I have just been accepting, and not letting you all know how grateful I am. You have all kept me and Freddy fed and warm. I love you all.’
‘And we love you. All of us. It broke our hearts to see all that landed on your doorstep. You’ve done so much for us all. We’re proud to ’ave you as one of us.’
‘Thank you. That means a lot to me. Tell me how you’ve been, while I make the tea, and then I want to tell you my story.’
By the time she had finished, Mrs Larch was in tears. ‘’Ow can your family treat you in that way? They ain’t fit to have kids. If only . . . Well, “if onlys” don’t ’elp, but I would ’ave loved a daughter like you. I reckon as Pru were the lucky one.’
‘No, I was lucky to have Aunt Pru. She was a wonderful nanny and took care of me all of my life, until she died.’
‘I reckon as she’s still there for you, me darling. Come ’ere, let me give you a cuddle.’
Flora hadn’t expected this, but welcomed it. It felt good to be held by someone who loved her.
‘You won’t forget us, will you, love?’
‘No. I will never forget you.’ She hadn’t told Mrs Larch that Cyrus was going to France with her, only that she needed a new beginning for herself and Freddy and her unborn child, and that, as she spoke French, she wanted to go back there, where no one who wished her harm could reach her. It felt bad not to tell the truth, but Mrs Larch and all of her neighbours were what she termed ‘straight as dye’ and wouldn’t be able to forgive such a sin. She couldn’t bear for them to think badly of her.
‘It must be a wrench, leaving Alice’s resting place, though you’ll take Alice with you, as those we have lost live inside us each time we think of them. I talk to my Bert all the time. Look, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll organize a team of us that will keep the little one’s resting place tidy for you. ‘Ow’s that, eh?’
Flora went back into Mrs Larch’s arms and held her close. Her emotions were so wrecked that she found she was dried of tears, but her heart bled just the same. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’
Something that had occurred to her in the last few days now came to her mind. Knowing that, in this area, they were averse to immigrants moving in, Flora thought she would broach the subject. Coming out of Mrs Larch’s embrace, she looked her in the face, wanting to read her reaction. ‘There is something I wanted to tell you. It is an idea I have had, to thank someone who has been a dear friend to me since I was a child. I know you have all seen her coming and going, but how would you feel if she and her family lived in this house?’
‘You’re talking about that Jamaican woman, aren’t you? Rowena?’
So far, no disdain. ‘Yes. She lives in a squalor not of her own making. She is a good housewife, but her house is damp, and some of her neighbours are not fussy about what they throw in the streets. There is no proper sanitation in her area, and I fear for her health. And so I would dearly love to give her thi
s house, but I don’t want her – or any of you – to be unhappy.’ Flora held her breath. This had been the most difficult conversation, as it felt as though she was classing her dear Rowena as a second-class citizen, who needed permission to live freely where she wanted to. But it wasn’t like that; she just wanted everything to be all right for Rowena, if she went ahead with her plans. There was so much prejudice in certain areas of London.
‘Well, I can speak for myself, and I would love to ’ave her ’ere. Me and her ’ave chatted on many an occasion, and I find her a lovely, jolly person. I’ll see to it that she’s treated right.’
‘Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. And something else: Rowena can play a wonderful honky-tonk piano.’
‘That settles it then. We’ve missed our singalongs.’ Flora found herself hugged again. ‘We’re all going to miss you, love.’
With this, Mrs Larch went out of the door. Flora stood still for a moment. Her heart was heavy. She would miss Mrs Larch and all of her neighbours. How she wished she could stay amongst them. But the pull to be with her Cyrus was too strong, even though it might mean eternal damnation for them both. In life, they had to be together and live as husband and wife.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cyrus had bought a car. A lovely deep-maroon Wolseley. He’d picked Flora up from where she’d waited, three miles from her home, in a little cafe they both knew. They hadn’t driven long, before Flora mentioned the article and what was on her mind.
‘Cyrus, I don’t want Harold to have a share of the sale. I am sure it is he who has sold our story to the newspapers. Last night I had mud thrown at my window. Mrs Larch heard the noise and chased the boys off, but it was very frightening. I am convinced it was Harold who informed the paper.’