by Mary Wood
The door opened silently, and yet the babble of noise, which was usual for the hut, ceased as if someone had switched off every machine and shushed all the women. Flo took a deep breath and walked through, towards her office. Jane Downing stood as Flo approached her desk. ‘Flo, we want you to know that we’re very sorry. Devastated, in fact. The general sent round a communication about ten minutes ago. He told us that Simon was murdered. How? Oh, Flo, were you with him?’
‘Naw, Jane, I weren’t. I wish I had been, but we went our separate ways this time. Simon visited a mutual friend of ours, and I went to London. So I knaw as much as you all do. I’m devastated an’ all, but we have to carry on; it is what Simon would want us to do, and it’s what our country expects. Ta, though, for saying sommat. It helps.’ As she finished talking, Flo found the courage to look around at Kitty’s desk. It stood empty.
‘She was marched out at the same time as the communication arrived. Is she involved, Flo?’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me, but we’ll never knaw. I’m glad she’s gone; I couldn’t have worked with her being here. She had it in for Simon, as you all knaw. But he felt safe with the rest of you. I thank you all for that. Now, the best thing we can do is get our heads down and turn out the best day we’ve ever had. We have to help to win the war.’
Turning from Jane, Flo felt herself gaining in strength by the minute. Every time she thought of what Simon would want of her and she carried it through, she felt a little bit better. A sound surprised her. It began very slowly, then increased as more joined in. The women were clapping her. These women – who’d hardly given her the time of day and hadn’t included her in anything, or made any effort even to greet her sometimes – were clapping her. She turned and smiled at them, bowed her head towards them, then went into her office and closed the door.
Leaning against it, she let out a huge sigh, took a deep breath and blew it out in an exaggerated fashion. Somehow she had to stop the flow of tears; if she didn’t, she would open the floodgates for all the tears tied in a knot in her chest to be released, and she couldn’t do that yet. Not here.
Simon’s desk stood like a lonely monument to him, his pen still where he’d thrown it down, in his glee that at last the time had come for him to leave the office and make for the station. Going over to his desk, Flo picked up the pen. From now on, she would use it. And she would sit in his chair. Little things, but they would bring him closer to her. Not that he would ever leave her. He was bound into the very fibre of her, and always would be.
By the time Flo had ridden back to the flat, she felt exhausted. Parking her bike, she noticed a car outside that she’d seen many times recently. Petulia must still be here. Blast, I’m not up to meeting anyone. She rubbed the base of her neck; the tension there jarred through her body. Her legs felt like jelly. Sitting on the step for a moment, she watched a cat crawl under Petulia’s car. That’s what she’d like to do: crawl under something where no one could see her and curl up in a ball. She wasn’t sure she could cry. She felt empty of tears, but wanted just to be alone and to think everything through. Try to make it all a reality, then she might be able to deal with it.
The door at the top of the steps opened. ‘Flo, how long have you been there – you’ll freeze to death! Come up.’
Flo stood and looked upwards, and the light from the open door dazzled her for a moment. ‘I were just resting a mo. It was some bike ride, with me bundle on me handlebars, it took it out of me.’
Belinda didn’t protest. Instead she stepped aside and beckoned Flo up. The door led into their kitchen, a small but functional room with all the utilities along one wall and a small wooden table at the other. Flo could see that Belinda had been shopping, as there were a few items on the work surface: a bag of potatoes and a couple of sausages were dwarfed by a huge winter cabbage. Other than that, there was some salt and a loaf of bread. No butter, and only a very small bottle of milk – one-third of a pint, Flo would guess. She’d only ever seen this size of bottle down here in the south, but it did seem to be an area of people living on their own, especially in London.
Flo went through to the front room. A young woman sat cross-legged on the floor.
‘Hello, I’m Petulia – Pet for short. I won’t stay long, but I just wanted to wait for you to tell you how sorry I am about what has happened. I knew Lucinda, and met Simon once when he came to the university to see her. He was jolly nice, and very handsome. It’s all tragic, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. If I can do anything at all, you only have to send a message through Belinda for me.’
‘Ta. That’s kind of you.’ Suddenly Flo felt tongue-tied and unsure what to do next. Everyone she met at Bletchley had so much confidence and spoke with such a posh accent, it intimidated her. Pet was a pretty girl with a mound of curly fair hair and big brown eyes. When she smiled, her cheeks dimpled.
‘Look, I’ll go. We can meet up and get to know one another some other time. Belinda told me you’re interested in joining my group. I’d love that. We’ll be holding auditions for Dorothy soon. I hope you feel up to coming – that would be spiffing.’
Flo nodded. She so wanted to be nice to Pet. She liked her; Pet didn’t look like Lucinda, but her manner reminded Flo of her.
Pet stood and walked towards Flo. Flo wanted to run. She couldn’t understand this feeling of wanting to be as far as possible inside her own body and not have anyone touch her. But touch her Pet did. As if on impulse, she held Flo and kissed her cheek. And then was gone. The gesture embarrassed Flo, but at the same time made her think she was right to like Pet and knew they would become friends.
When Belinda came back in, she laughed off the incident. ‘Don’t mind Pet, she’s an arty-farty type – they kiss everybody.’
A giggle bubbled up in Flo.
Belinda joined her, although hers was a nervous giggle. She covered it up by being her usual matter-of-fact self. ‘Well, Flo, we’re here! Let’s get down to work. Can you cook? I didn’t think, when I said about making a meal. I haven’t got a blooming idea how to boil an egg, let alone anything else.’
This made Flo giggle even more. The giggle turned to a laugh, a real belly-aching laugh that she couldn’t control. Her already-weak legs became weaker. Her voice echoed around the empty room.
‘Flo – Flo, stop it. Flo, what’s got into you? Flo!’
These words seemed to be coming down a long tunnel. She was hurting now, real physical pain from the stretching of her throat and her stomach muscles, but there was a hurt far greater than that and it threatened to swallow her up.
A sharp sting on her cheek shocked Flo into silence and she stared back at Belinda.
‘I’m sorry, love, but you were hysterical. I had to do that.’
Flo tried to say it was all right, but no words would form, only sobs. Huge, screaming sobs. Her body gave way under the weight of them and she sank to the floor.
Belinda wrapped her in a blanket and held her. But no one could hold her world together, or put it back the way it was.
Roland came to her mind. And for the first time since hearing the news, she cried for him, too. What he must be going through, she couldn’t imagine. The thought helped her pain a little, as she knew that no matter how much she was hurting, Roland would be going through twice as much. Lonely, fearful and grieving beyond endurance. She calmed enough to be able to sit up. Belinda handed her a towel.
‘I’ve a big kettle of water on, love. Why not go and have a wash and put your pyjamas on, eh? You could do with a soak in the bath, but I don’t know what the chances are of me filling that boiler, let alone setting a fire under it.’
‘I’ll be all right with a wash. Ta ever so much for your kindness, Belinda.’ The reflex sobs made it difficult for Flo to speak, but she managed to say, ‘I like your friend. She’s nice.’
‘Come on – don’t start me off again about Pet. I don’t want to make you laugh, but when you feel more able, I have some funny stories about her. She’s lovely, but
a minx. She can get you into trouble with her pranks.’
Flo didn’t really want to have a conversation. She didn’t know what she wanted, except to have things back the way they were. Now she was consumed with worry and quizzed Belinda frantically. She needed to know where Simon’s body was and who would see to the arrangements – would that person contact her?
‘I’m not sure, in the case of someone being murdered. But it won’t be possible, I should imagine, for his parents to get over from India – no waters are safe enough to travel that distance. Leave it with me. I’ll speak to General Pradstow and see what he will do for us. And I’ll ring my father’s solicitor tomorrow and see if he can help, with information about what will happen to Simon’s friend; he is a brilliant solicitor and I’m sure he can find out if Simon’s family has a solicitor, and can liaise with him. Don’t worry; we’ll do our best to make sure everything is sorted out and that you are kept informed. But, Flo, try to prepare yourself for the fact that Simon’s friend may go to prison. I’m sorry, and I wish it was different, but the way the story was told to the general and he told me, it looks bad for him.’
‘Which is all the more reason why I must try to cope with it all. Roland’s going to need me. I knaw he has a lot of friends and is well regarded, but how many of them will come to his defence or his aid, when they hear what he was arrested for? Not many, I should think. I have to be able to contact him somehow. Could you ask your solicitor if he would get a message to Roland for me?’
‘I will. As long as this way of coping is going to make you fit to cook some dinner for us – I’m starving!’ Belinda smiled and hugged Flo as she said this. Flo didn’t reject her.
The crying had released her from the barrier that had made it feel as though she was encased in a cocoon of ice. She’d been afraid of it melting and exposing her to a hurt she couldn’t let in, but the ice had gone now, and Flo could feel the reality of it all and knew she had to call on all her courage to get through. She was needed at Bletchley, where her expertise could help the war effort; she was needed by Molly; and she would be needed by Roland. She had to be strong for all of them. Simon would expect nothing less of her. And she would give nothing less.
23
Flo & Molly
A Meaningful Encounter
Ten days had passed – some of them in a haze for Flo. But there had been so much work to do, which had given her a distraction, though times without number she’d lifted her head whilst deeply engrossed in a difficult equation to ask Simon for help. These had been painful moments.
On hearing what had happened, Belinda’s parents had changed their mind about making the girls choose what furniture they wanted and transporting it themselves, and had sent them a vanload of furniture and two men to place it all, as well as bedding, towels and kitchen utensils – all they would need really.
The flat looked lovely, if a little imposing, with the grand furniture gracing it. The beds weren’t just iron-sprung ones, as Flo was used to, but had carved wooden headboards and frames, and latticework cords to hold the deep, feather-filled mattresses in place. There were four in all and these had been assembled, two in each bedroom.
The front-room furniture didn’t quite look at home in the square, plain surroundings it was placed in, but to Flo it seemed as if she lived in a palace. The deep-maroon velvet chaise-longue and the two gold velvet high-backed chairs were fit for a queen and were set off by the mahogany occasional tables and bureau, all of which had intricately carved legs. But it was the Persian rug that added the touch of pure magnificence to the room. Stretching to within a foot of each of the walls, it brought together the golds and maroons in a pattern of flowers so beautifully woven that it gave Flo the feeling of standing in a glorious garden.
The flat had become a home, and a haven, in such a short space of time; and Flo had been glad that Belinda had decided still to sleep in the same room as her. It had been good to have her near in those moments when everything became too much for her, or a bad dream woke her.
The news about Roland had been another terrible blow. Roland had pleaded guilty and had been dealt with by a magistrate within two days. In his distraught state, he hadn’t listened to the lawyer who was willing to fight for him, and had been sentenced to two years in prison for gross indecency with another man. This had compounded Flo’s pain and completed the shattering of her world.
With all that was going on, Flo found herself torn as to what to do next. She had two rest days to take and felt pulled in so many directions, she didn’t know which way to turn. London tugged, as she desperately wanted to find out how Eunice was and what her results were, and to catch up with Molly and Pauline; but she also needed to go home, to be hugged by Mrs Leary and to do childlike things with Kathy, to feel their love for her protect her and soothe the pain she was cocooned in. But then there was Roland, too. She knew he was in Wandsworth Prison and she had asked about visiting him, only to be told he wouldn’t be allowed any visitors for at least a month. His plight tore at her heart. All she’d been able to do was send a message through Belinda’s solicitor to tell Roland of her love for him and to talk of their shared grief. She asked him to stay strong, and promised she would come and see him the moment they allowed her to. She’d also written the letter to Simon’s parents that the general had suggested she do.
At times her tears had smudged the ink and she’d had to start again, but she’d managed to include as many happy memories as she could. Doing so had helped, and made her feel as if she’d known Simon and Lucinda for a lifetime. She’d spoken of their love for one another and how they had cared for each other, and of the special love she and Simon had shared, and how they had all loved Roland. She’d also included a small paragraph on the love Simon and Roland had shared. Though she’d found it very difficult to put into words, in her heart she knew it was right to tell them where Roland was, and the reason he was there. She expressed her opinion of Roland feeling immense grief and guilt at Simon’s death, and asked if they would find it in their hearts to write to him:
What happened wasn’t his fault. Roland is only guilty of loving your son and of giving him, and sharing in, the happiness that shone from them both when they were together. I know it is difficult to understand the kind of love they had for each other – I found it difficult at first – but just being with them gave one an understanding and a sense that it was right that they should be together. Both believed in God and practised their faith, and I firmly believe that God would not have denied their love and that Simon is resting in Heaven and at peace, with dear Lucinda. I hope that, for the peace of your own hearts, you can come to think of their union in this way, too.
Although the sentiments were her own, Belinda had helped Flo to write them in this eloquent way, as she hadn’t wanted the meaning distorted, as might have happened with her northern twist of the language confusing them. In reality she’d wanted to put her arms around them and say, ‘Eeh, you had a grand lad there, in your Simon, there were none better. He were a loving, kind and thoughtful man and he shared that with me, making me the luckiest lass in the world to have known him. And I loved him, with me all.’
The general had read the letter. He’d hesitated over it for a while, but in the end he’d looked up at her and nodded, then dismissed her without a word. This had given Flo confidence and helped her to know she’d chosen the right words, even though something she’d written had unsettled the general for a moment – probably her references to Roland. And so now all she could do was wait for the outcome of the inquest into Simon’s death and hope, with everything in her, that he was cleared of the murder of the vicious man who’d taken his life. She also hoped very much that Simon’s mother and stepfather would write back to her, as that, she knew, would help to settle her mind and might go some way to soothe the pain of her broken heart.
Still torn apart by her decision to deny herself the comfort of Mrs Leary’s and Kathy’s loving presence, Flo stood at the reception desk of the military ho
spital in Endell Street, waiting to be told where Eunice was.
‘Here you are, love: Ward Twelve. Nurse Eunice Dirkham. That’s the one, ain’t it?’
‘Aye, it is. Do you reckon as I could see her now?’
‘I don’t see why not. We don’t stand on the ceremony of specific visiting times for our nurses. Hang on, while I contact the sister of the ward for you.’
Flo’s stomach muscles tightened with fear about what she might discover. No wonder Eunice hadn’t been in touch. She wouldn’t want to worry Flo. With Eunice being in a ward, Flo could only surmise that the news wasn’t good.
As Flo walked the corridors to the ward, the squeaking of her shoes on the polished lino increased her trepidation. Each footstep seemed to count down to doom. But when she saw a sign pointing in the direction of Ward 12, she took a deep breath and told herself, Be strong, lass. Put all you’re going through to the back of your mind and be strong for Eunice.
This helped, but didn’t save her altogether, as she opened the door to find herself in a small private room with its only occupant looking nothing like Eunice, but a shadow of the person she’d been just a short time ago.
‘Eeh, lass. Eeh, love, what’s to do?’
‘It’s all right, Flo. Honestly, don’t take on. I’m going to get well. They operated the moment they found the tumour. It was in my lower bowel, and they’re confident they have it all. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you, but it all happened so quickly.’
This good news did to Flo what bad news couldn’t have done. She no longer had to be strong, and so her weak, vulnerable heart came to the fore and she collapsed onto the chair next to the bed, buried her head in Eunice’s pillow and wept.
Gradually she became aware of Eunice’s hand stroking her hair, allowing Flo to empty her heart of tears, not trying to stop her and not asking her any questions. With this soothing of her pain, Flo was able to control the outpouring of emotions and calm herself. ‘Eeh, I’m sorry, lass, that’s the last thing you needed.’