Brighter Days Ahead

by Mary Wood

  Simon answered her. ‘Yes. Just very tired.’

  ‘Eeh, Simon, I shouldn’t have made her dance. You both go downstairs and help to keep the party going for a while. I’ll help her to undress and snuggle her down.’

  As they approached Simon’s house later the next day, having dropped Eunice off at the hospital, Simon asked what was wrong with Eunice. On Flo telling him, his hand came over to her lap and folded itself around her tightly clasped hands. He didn’t speak, but the effect of Simon touching her sent a feeling through her that she found hard to control. Latching onto the comfort of the gesture helped her, as she told him how she and Eunice had become friends. ‘We’re the kind of friends who don’t need to see each other all the time to keep our love for one another alive. You know, like family. Which we are, really.’

  ‘Yes, I understand. Though I hope I don’t become a friend like that. I want to be in your company all the time.’

  Ignoring this, Flo changed the subject: ‘We’ll have to look sharpish when we get back – there’s only an hour to when we have to start to stock the van.’

  It hardly seemed so much time had passed before they were at the Salvation Army lock-up and loading up stores, having dumped their cases at Simon’s, had a drink of water and a quick swill to freshen themselves.

  ‘There’s a lot of supplies already there, as the van has been operating all afternoon. It’s on the bombed-out site of St Anne’s Church,’ Mr Jenkinson told them.

  ‘I heard the tower of that church was still standing. Is it safe?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Yes, that’s all cordoned off – the van’s just inside the gates. Will yer be able to manage on yer own? I know yer were promised help for the first couple of shifts, but there’s no one to call on.’

  ‘We’ll be fine, as long as those we’re taking over from can show us the ropes before they leave.’

  ‘Aye, that’d be a help. But don’t worry, we have helped in a van afore, and with the closing down at the end of the shift,’ Flo added.

  ‘I know; I were told, Miss. Nothing like being thrown in the bleedin’ deep end, eh? It’ll probably be busy, an’ all. All the vans and depots have been busier over the holiday. I reckon folk were using the truce to take the chance to socialize around the vans a bit and get sommat that’s hot inside them. Not many had what yer could call a jolly Christmas. But it was all happening again last night.’

  After telling them where the nearest shelter was if there was a raid, and to drop off any food and the washing up they had left at St Thomas’s Church in Regent Street, the man gave them some quick directions.

  It didn’t take long to arrive at the van. A queue of people stood waiting. The couple Flo and Simon were to take over from had closed the hatch while they cleaned down and prepared some more hot soup. Flo dived in to help, while Simon ferried the man to St Thomas’s Church to take the dirty pots and collect more clean ones.

  The woman greeted Flo as she stepped inside the van. ‘Me name’s Rhoda, what’s yours, lav?’

  ‘I’m Flo. Pleased to meet you. Looks like you’ve been run off your feet.’

  ‘We have, and you’ll be no different. Look, yer might get a few of the prostitutes. They’ve worked a bit later during the truce, and we welcomed them for the first time. We used to give them short shrift, but me man works as an ARP and he were talking to one a bit back. What she told him makes your hair curl, poor bleeders. I’ve put the word out that they’re welcome here and if they want any help we’ll give it.’

  ‘Reet-o.’

  ‘I’ve never met a northern girl before. What’re you doing down this neck of the woods then, Flo?’

  ‘I’m in the Wrens. I do boring office work. This’ll give me a bit of excitement.’

  ‘Ha, I don’t know about that. Though it could turn hairy, if there’s a raid. But nice to know you’re doing your bit. Ah, here’s the men. We’ll run things through with yer both, then leave yer to it. But mind you move to St Thomas’s before it’s dark, if you think there’s still a need of your services. It’ll be all blacked-out, ready. Folk know to enter the door, then close that before they open the inner doors where it’s light. Good luck.’

  With the rush over, they had done as advised and had moved to the church hall. Once there, they were able to distribute warm clothing from the stored stock, as well as keep up a steady supply of hot drinks and soup. Flo had never been so busy in her life. The cockney crowd had been in high spirits and she’d felt so much admiration for them.

  ‘Well, we didn’t do bad for our first time on our own, did we?’

  ‘Naw, it went well. Here, I’ve poured you a cuppa. Go and have five minutes while I clear up, Simon – you look done in. You’ve had a long day, with the drive back and everything.’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do take the weight off for a mo. Thanks, Flo.’

  Flo watched the glow of Simon’s cigarette. The hall was quiet now and she was acutely aware that they were alone. Sighing, she began to gather up the dirty pots and take them towards the kitchen. A brash voice stopped her. ‘You open, lav?’

  Flo turned to see two women coming through the door. As they came closer, she knew they were prostitutes by their clothes and make-up. Why her nerves tightened her throat, she didn’t know, but she didn’t let this show in her greeting. ‘Aye, what can I get you, lasses? We’ve tea, but no milk and sugar, and a couple of bowls of soup left. Oh, and I reckon I could find sommat nice, an’ all.’

  The one with the blonde hair laughed out loud. ‘Lav your accent, darling. I’m all right, as it happens, but me mate here, she’s starving. What’s yer name? Mine’s Trixie, and this is Molly, for her sins.’

  ‘I’m Flo, and that’s Simon over there, having a break. Shall I pour you a pot of tea, Molly?’

  ‘I couldn’t drink a whole pot, but ta, I’ll take a mug.’

  As Molly came nearer, Flo gasped. Her face was a mass of cuts and bruises. She covered up her distress by making a joke. ‘Oh, don’t mind me. That’s just a saying up north. I should have said “a nice cup of Rosie Lee”.’

  They all laughed then.

  ‘You make a nice change, girl. The others are all right, but yer get the feeling they think themselves saints to bother with us, if yer know what I mean.’

  ‘Eeh, I’m sorry to hear that, Trixie. Here you are, Molly. Can I do owt else for you girls?’

  ‘Molly’ll have sommat to eat, once she’s downed that, ta, lav.’

  ‘We have some warm clothes in the store at the back of the church. If you’ve a mind to have them, you’re very welcome.’

  ‘Ha, I don’t reckon yer’ll have any as we like, lav; but ta, anyway. Are yer going to be here very often?’

  ‘Not sure, to be honest.’ Flo told them her set story about working for the forces and how they just did this on odd occasions. She wished with all her heart that she could help the one called Molly. Trixie came across as if she could take care of herself, but Molly looked afraid. ‘Eeh, Molly, you look like you fell out with a tram. We have a first-aid kit on board. I could clean your cuts up a bit for you.’

  ‘They should teach you bleedin’ lot not to interfere. Molly’s all right, ain’t yer, girl?’

  Simon got up. He ground the remainder of his cigarette into the ashtray. ‘It’s not interfering, to offer help – that’s what we’re here for. Flo wouldn’t dream of poking her nose into your business, and neither does she deserve to have you talk to her like that.’

  ‘And who are you, when yer bleedin’ mother ain’t at home, then?’

  ‘Don’t, Trixie. Flo didn’t mean no harm, and this bloke’s just looking out for her, like you do me.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, I’m sure. But we came for a cup of tea and sommat for you to eat. That’s all, and she wants to play bleedin’ Florence Nightingale. Ha, that’s funny, as that’s her bleedin’ name!’

  Both girls laughed at this and Flo joined in. ‘By, I’m no Florence Nightingale, I tell you. Seeing to a few cuts is me limit.’<
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  ‘You’re all right, you are, girl. Ain’t she, Molly?’

  ‘Yes. Ta, Flo, I know you meant well, but we have to be careful.’

  ‘Flo don’t want to hear that, Molly. Now, can we have some soup, please, Flo? Not for me, but for Molly.’

  Flo dished up a good mugful of soup and watched as the two girls went to sit down on the bench where Simon had been. The one called Trixie lit up a cigarette.

  ‘I don’t like the look of that poor girl, Flo. But the one smoking, she’s a bit brash and looks like she can take care of herself.’

  ‘Aye, I reckon you’re reet, Simon. But I think as she’ll take care of her mate, an’ all, and that’s what made her snap at me. I wonder why she looks so much better off than Molly? Eeh, I wish I could do sommat for them.’

  ‘We can only give what they will take. You’ve offered, and that’s all you can do. Look, go and sit with them a while, have a smoke; you must feel like one, you’ve been on your feet for hours.’

  ‘By, that’d be grand. I ain’t much of a smoker, but at times like this I welcome one.’

  The women moved over as Flo approached.

  ‘Park your bottom on there, lav, I’ve warmed it for yer. I can warm any spot.’ Trixie’s high laugh accompanied this, and Flo didn’t miss the implication.

  She grinned at the girls. ‘So, if I offer me help, you look on it as interfering – is that a London way? Only where I come from, we all help each other, and I had the impression it was like that down here.’

  ‘No. It ain’t that, Flo.’ Molly lit a cigarette and blew out a ring of smoke. ‘It’s just the same as us asking you about your work in that office. There’s some things that can’t be interfered with. You see, we have certain people – gangsters – that control—’

  ‘Shut yer mouth, Molly, yer can’t go telling her that.’

  Molly clamped up.

  ‘I reckon I knaw what you mean. The woman I took over from said that her husband is an ARP and he’d spoken to one of you and she’d told him about her life. I feel sorry for you.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be you, would it, Molly? I tell yer, girl, yer’ll never learn. Look, we’re grateful for yer help, but we’re all right.’

  ‘You might be, Trixie, but I’m not. I live in fear.’

  ‘Molly! Christ, if yer going to blab to every Tom, Dick and Harry, yer’ll be in further trouble. What if Flo calls the police, eh? Where’d yer be then, eh? At the bottom of the bleedin’ Thames, that’s where. I’ll find a way of getting yer out. We managed it for Ruby, didn’t we?’

  Flo couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She racked her brains as to how she could give Molly a way of contacting her. There was something about the girl that had touched Flo’s heart and she wanted to help her. ‘Don’t be at worrying – I won’t contact the police. I don’t knaw owt, anyroad.’

  ‘Look, Trixie, I have to make a break for it soon. You know that. What if Flo gives me a coat and sommat to sustain me? Then I needn’t go back again. Cos I’ve made me mind up. It’s going to be tonight. It has to be. I can’t take any more beatings.’

  This surprised Flo, but she didn’t speak. She waited for Trixie’s reaction.

  ‘But what about your stash? Yer’ll need that – yer won’t get far without money, girl.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. What if you keep the coat for me, Trixie? I could go back and get me money and then escape later out of the window. You could meet me with the coat, and I could take me chances from there.’

  ‘All right. If yer sure. Give me the coat and what yer’ve got, Flo, that’ll help her.’

  ‘Where will you go, Molly? By, it’s cold out there, lass, and there’s the threat of an air raid, an’ all.’

  ‘Just get what yer can for her, Flo – the rest ain’t your concern.’

  Flo rummaged in the box marked ‘Coats’. Most of what she found she wouldn’t give to a young woman. But then she came across a camel coat that must have been donated by someone with a bit of money. It was the size she’d guessed Molly was, and made of pure wool. Taking it out for Molly, Flo tried once again to offer more help. ‘Molly, what if you had a contact number for me, eh? I’d do me best to help you, if you found you needed it. Hang on a mo.’

  Hurrying back to Simon, Flo asked how they could be contacted.

  ‘Flo, what are you thinking of? You can’t get involved. You’ll be in trouble, if anything backfires on you. You can’t make yourself responsible for every waif and stray in London. You have a high-risk job and you have to protect that – and your reputation – with everything you have.’

  ‘I knaw. But, Simon, that girl needs help. I don’t see how that can compromise me.’

  The sound of a door banging had them both turning round. ‘Looks like you don’t have the problem any more, darling. They’ve gone.’

  Flo’s heart fell. ‘Eeh, that’s sad, Simon. They’re scared to death. Especially Molly. That Trixie said something about her ending up at the bottom of the Thames. You read such things, but you never think you’ll meet people who know it as a reality.’

  ‘My lovely Flo. You want to save the world, when it’s not possible to do so. Let’s get cleared up and get home. There’s no one else around looking for help, and if there’s a raid I want to be in my own shelter with my own comforts.’

  ‘Eeh, it’s a good thing as there’s no one else. We’ve nowt left. I gave Molly the last of that soup. By, I hope it fills a hole for the poor lass.’

  ‘Never mind about them; you need to think of yourself. You’ve had a lot to take on board, and a hefty few days off. I’ve been thinking. As we don’t have to be back until Monday morning, I’ll drive you to Southend-on-Sea tomorrow. It’ll probably be cold, but if we wrap up warm we can take a walk and let the sea air blow away some cobwebs, before we go back to that stuffy office and work out what Hitler has planned, now the truce is over.’

  ‘That’d be grand. You know, war is a bad time and brings a lot of sadness, but for ordinary lasses like me who never had much, it’s opened up a new world. I thought I would live and die in Leeds; now I find meself hobnobbing with the likes of you and the debutantes who work at Bletchley, and experiencing London. And now I’m going to the seaside. It all beggars belief.’

  Simon laughed. ‘It works both ways. My life has been enriched by you coming into it, as has the lives of all those girls in Bletchley. But for the war, we would have missed out on that.’ He was close to her and now took her hand and looked into her eyes. His voice deepened. ‘I’m so glad that I didn’t miss out on you, Flo. You don’t know what you have given me.’

  Flo saw the love in his eyes. Wanted to take hold of what it would mean for her, but knew she couldn’t. Forcing a smile, she released her hand from his and turned her attention to the work in hand. She had to accept that the love she had for Simon must always remain a secret. But knowing that didn’t help, or stop the ache in her heart.

  17

  Flo

  What a Difference a Day Makes

  The wind wrapped Flo’s hair around her face, and the salty air tingled her tongue and cheeks. Simon held her hand as they walked along the crowded promenade.

  A small hut came in sight, and alongside it a boat. As they neared it, they were assailed by the strong smell of fish.

  Flo wrinkled her nose. ‘By, some poor souls must still risk their lives to fish.’

  ‘They’re not fish; they’re cockles and mussels and whelks. Southend is famous for them, and those who gather them don’t have to go out to sea, at least not far. It’s more wading in to gather them, though they may use their boats to make a large haul just off the coast. Shall we try some?’

  They were near the stall now and Flo’s stomach turned at the thought of eating what she saw. ‘Naw, ta. They look like snails – ugh! I’d heave me heart out.’

  ‘Well, I’d love some. Come on, let’s go over.’

  The crowds bumped into Flo as Simon pulled her along. Uniformed young men stationed at
the local training camp wolf-whistled at her and called out remarks that made her laugh: ‘Going for some cockles, Miss? You can be my cockle any day,’ and similar harmless banter. Children squealed their delight at this and that, as they were pushed in prams, while older ones ran after seagulls. Sadly, most only had their mothers with them. The elderly walked with heads bent, their walking sticks tapping the pavement as they went. It all created an atmosphere of life carrying on, despite the rubble being cleared from the bombed-out chapel they’d passed, the piles of sandbags, and the rolls of barbed wire and warnings of mines along the beach. Such was the resilience of folk all over the British Isles, and Flo felt pride in her fellow countrymen.

  These musings left her as Simon tried to force her to eat a slimy-looking thing that he’d stuck a wooden stick into. ‘Naw . . . Naw, give over.’

  ‘Please, Flo, close your eyes and just taste it. You don’t know what you’re missing.’

  ‘Eeh, don’t make me. Buy me some fried fish. I’d love that.’

  Droplets of vinegar dripped down her chin as the steaming-hot fish Simon had bought her from another stall melted in her mouth. Flo thought she’d never tasted anything so delicious. ‘Let’s sit a mo, Simon. Me fish is sticking to the newspaper, and I can’t tackle it walking along at this pace.’

  ‘You look lovely, Flo. Your lips are all greasy, your cheeks flushed with the wind. It’s been a grand day, as you would say.’

  ‘It has. Ta ever so much for bringing me. I wish the day would go on forever.’

  ‘Me too, but we’d better make tracks when you’ve finished eating, or we won’t get back till after dark. I want to stop at a market garden on the way and try to get the rose bush you suggested for Lucinda . . . She’d have loved today. She liked coming to the seaside. We used to have picnics on the beach.’

  Flo wiped her hands and face on her hanky, then took his hand. ‘Memories are a good thing, Simon. Let them in whenever you can.’

  His smile didn’t touch his eyes, and she was reminded of his pain and her own.

  With the light fading, the house had a forlorn look about it when they arrived home. Flo felt a similar feeling descend on her. How she wished Lucinda would fling open the door and greet them. She could hear, in Simon’s tone, that he was feeling the same. ‘I’ll lay the rose bush in the garden. We’ll attend to it tomorrow – there’s plenty of soil around the roots. Let’s get inside.’ Words that dealt with the practicalities, not the pain. It was how they carried on and got through each hurdle.