by Mary Wood
As Flo swept down the stairs she was met by Eunice and an excited Kathy, both looking so lovely. Both screamed with delight on seeing Flo, and Kathy hugged her. ‘You’re like a fairy, Flo. A princess.’
Flo eased Kathy away from her. ‘Eeh, me little lass.’ She still thought of Kathy as this, even though she was now fifteen, almost sixteen. ‘Let go of me – you’ll crush me dress, and yours, an’ all. You look so lovely, my Kathy. And you, Eunice. I am blessed to have such beautiful sisters. Where’s Mam and Dad?’
‘Mam had to leave. We told her to come up and see you first, but we think she was too overcome. Besides, the car taking her to the church has to pick up your friends, Belinda and Petulia, from their guesthouse and then come back for us bridesmaids before you can set off with Dad.’
‘Eeh, I’ve made everyone late. I’ve been daydreaming, and I wanted to get everything reet.’
A hooter sounding had Molly, Eunice and Kathy running to the door. They waved as they left. Molly turned and smiled and said, ‘See you at the church, love. Good luck.’
For the first time, Flo felt nerves clutch at her stomach. The last years had been tough, but they’d all come through – all her ‘waifs and strays’, as Roland called them. Everyone was settled in the life they wanted, though perhaps not Molly, but she was making the best of things; and a new start might be just the thing for her. And now to see that Eunice was so well and happy; and Kathy too, working with the lovely Mr Godfern and his daughter, now that their business had picked up and was thriving again. Kathy was looking forward to following in Eunice’s footsteps to become a nurse, when she was old enough. Though Eunice would soon be giving up that work, when her junior doctor qualified and they could marry. By, that was a day Flo would come home for, as she would as often as she could.
Her mind went to Simon and Lucinda. If only they were here, too. That would be so wonderful, but she knew they were here by her side in spirit. She sent a little greeting up to them. Eeh, me friends, I miss you. I hope as you’re together and happy. Thanks for all you did for me, in accepting me. And, Simon, I loved it at Bletchley. By, we cracked some codes and foiled them Germans, just like you taught us to. And we had fun, an’ all, with the theatrical group. You’d have loved that. Well, wish me luck, the pair of you. Here goes.
‘Is that you ready now, Flo?’
‘Aye, Dad, I’m ready.’
‘For sure you look a picture. Your mam’s going to be crying enough tears to put hell’s fire out.’
Flo smiled. ‘Thanks for being me dad. I’ve never said, but I love you, and Mam, and I’m going to miss you. You’ll come over to Canada to see me, won’t you?’
Mr Leary nodded. Flo could see he didn’t trust himself to say any more. He put out his arm and she took it. When she stepped outside the little cottage, a roar went up. All the neighbours stood cheering her. She waved and smiled. She was truly ready to go to her Art. All the ghosts had been laid to rest.
The day had passed in a dream. Art had never left her side. And his mam and dad weren’t far behind him. Flo loved his mam, and couldn’t think how this little woman could have given birth to a son who would tower over her, as he did. Though she showed a strength of character that belied her height. Art took after his dad, who, although not as tall as Art, had the same hair and hazel eyes. He had a way of making you feel you were in a conspiracy with him against Art’s mam, but it was all done in a joking manner that had Flo giggling.
There’d been time during the afternoon to spend with Ruby and Trixie and Roland and Frazer, and with Pauline and Fred and their boys, and Pauline’s mum. But at last Flo had found a quiet moment with her own mam. Mrs Leary looked lovely in her cream suit with a lemon blouse and navy hat. ‘This is a grand day, so it is, Flo. And I’m for being very happy. Your Art is a fine fellow. He’ll be for looking after you, so he will.’
‘He will, Mam.’ Flo took her mam’s hand and held it. Sometimes words weren’t needed and this was one of those times. Her mam broke the silence between them. ‘Well, me darling, go forward with me blessing and be happy. I’m at working on Mr Leary; he can be spending his savings on paying for a trip to Canada for me, and he’s for knowing he’ll have to give in to me wishes. We’ll be with you afore you know it.’
Flo had been amused to hear a slur in her mam’s words. Everyone was having such a wonderful time, and the bar was making a good profit.
The time was coming when she and Art would have to leave. They were honeymooning in a remote cottage in the Lake District and that was a few hours’ drive away. Though Art had said that maybe they would stop in a hotel on the way, depending on how they felt. Flo didn’t mind, either way; she just wanted to begin her married life with the love of her life, her beloved Art.
There was just Belinda and Petulia to say goodbye to, before everyone followed them outside. Belinda caught hold of Flo’s arm. ‘We’ve had a wonderful day, Flo. I’m so glad you came to Bletchley. I’m that glad I’m almost thanking Hitler. You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?’
‘She’ll do more than that, Belinda. Flo, I’ve a proposition to put to you.’
‘Petulia, you can’t – not here, not today.’
‘I have to, for when else can I? You sail to Canada in a month’s time, don’t you, Flo?’
‘I do. Me and Art come back here for a while, to spend time with me family, and as you know, we spend our last week in London afore we sail. But I don’t think I’ll have time to visit you both.’
‘You won’t have to. I’m planning a reunion of the Bletchley Theatrical Club. I have everyone on board – I just need you. We want to put on a production of The Wizard of Oz to raise funds for the homeless of the East End. I’ve found a venue, one of the few church halls that’s still standing near the dock, St Mary’s. And it’s all arranged for the week you’re in London.’
‘Eeh, it sounds grand. But what about rehearsals and costumes? By, it’s all making me nervous, just thinking about it.’
‘Just say yes, and leave the rest to us. We need you as Dorothy. You’ll only have to run through the positions on the stage. Besides, most people can only travel to London on the day, so we’re just going to ad-lib. It’ll be fun. I’m staying in London with Betsy Randell – you know, the one who played the Glass Cat and a host of other bit-parts. And me and Belinda will make all the costumes – we have all your sizes. It’s not as if there’s a cast of thousands; there’s only twenty of us, and we’ll use the same script of the adaptation that Captain Gregory did for our production at Bletchley. I’ve given a copy to your mother to hold till you come back, so you can refresh your memory then. We did them on a printing machine we bought recently.’
‘Eeh, it sounds grand. We’ll be staying at the Savoy.’ Flo just had time to give Petulia the date they were to arrive in London, before Art called out to her.
As she kissed Belinda and Petulia, it struck her how strange life had turned out to be. Here she was, mixing with the likes of ex-debutantes and posh folk, and staying in places like the Savoy, as if she was used to doing such things all her life. By, war changed people’s lives in so many ways. And sometimes for the better, though if she could bring back all those who’d lost their lives, she’d gladly have stayed as she was. She caught sight of Art beckoning her forward, and she knew that wasn’t altogether true. She wouldn’t have missed meeting him for the world.
They drove away to the clatter of tins and old boots that had been tied to their car, and the sound of cheering and shouts of ‘Good luck’.
Flo snuggled up to Art.
‘All comfortable, Mrs Tendray?’
The sound of her new name rang in her ears. Yes, she was comfortable, and happy, and knew that she would be for the rest of her life.
The week passed by so quickly, and it didn’t seem any time at all until Flo and Art were back in Leeds. They’d booked into the Parkland Hotel, and on arrival had a message to ring Belinda’s solicitor.
Intrigued, Flo dialled his number.
‘Flo, congratu
lations on your wedding. I hope you’ll be very happy.’
She didn’t know what to say. She’d never been on close terms with Mr Westbury, though he’d been very helpful in getting her to see Roland that time he was in prison. The memory shuddered through her as she thanked him.
‘I hope you don’t mind me finding out from Belinda what you were up to and where you were staying, only I have news.’
‘Oh no, Mr Westbury. It’s grand to hear from you. What news?’
‘Do you remember you were asking after a Mr Gould – David Gould, a pilot in the RAF?’
Flo drew in a deep breath and waited.
‘Well, my friend in the Ministry of Defence office has just contacted me. He’d kept my request on file for further information, and there’s someone who’s turned up who may be your man.’
‘What! Oh God, where? Is he all right? Eeh, Mr Westbury, I do hope as it is him.’
‘He’s in hospital; well, not hospital as such, but one of those convalescent places for ex-servicemen. It’s called St Joseph’s and is in Maidstone. He found his way to England from Italy, but didn’t know who he was or why he was here. It appears that he wasn’t captured, but was cared for by some remote farmers. They helped him to get back here. He gave his name as George Black, which we think is an assumed name that he must have been living under. He came back in his pilot’s uniform; the farmer’s wife had patched and cleaned it. And although there is no record of a George Black ever serving in the RAF, this fellow had obviously lost his memory and could only give the investigators a letter that the farmer had given him. It was in Italian and had to be translated.’
Flo swallowed, and a part of her was praying as she listened.
‘It appears that his plane came down. The Italians had written down when that happened, and how they managed to get him out of the wreckage and nursed him over a long time back to health. They buried what was left of his aircraft, so that anyone snooping around couldn’t detect that he’d ever been there, and nothing could be seen from the air. When enough time went by and he’d recovered, they put him to work on their farm and passed him off as a relative. Though they never knew his name, as he couldn’t remember it. Anyway, investigations have now determined who he really is and apparently, on being told, some of his memory is coming back.’
‘Eeh, that’s a grand story. Ta, Mr Westbury. Ta ever so much. Can we go and see him, do you reckon?’
‘That depends. I can ask, of course, but if I remember correctly, you don’t know him and he doesn’t know you. You were trying to find out for a friend who was engaged to him, weren’t you?’
‘Aye, but . . . well, I don’t want her hurt. What if he don’t remember her, or doesn’t want to? I’d rather me husband and I visited him first, to see how the land lies.’
‘I’ll ask. But do you know anything about him that would help the investigators? They know he lived in Edmonton.’
‘Me friend told me his parents went to America. They’re Jews and were afraid of England being invaded, but I don’t think she knows where they went. They owned a shoe shop, and David was a lawyer.’
‘Right-o, leave it with me. You’re going to be in Leeds for a couple of weeks, aren’t you?’
‘Aye, I am. But we would travel from here to visit David. Eeh, do your best, Mr Westbury. Me friend has never stopped loving David, or hoping that one day he’ll return, and she deserves a chance at being reunited with him. I’d like to try to pave the way for that to happen.’
‘I will, Flo. Funny you and I have never met, and yet I feel as though I know you. You strike me as a kind person, with everyone’s interest at heart.’
‘Aye, and you do me, an’ all. I’ve never paid for your services, but you’ve allus helped me. Ta for that. I’m really grateful.’
‘Ha, don’t forget my prospective daughter-in-law in all this. Whatever Belinda says, we all jump to and get done!’
Flo laughed with him about this, before putting the telephone down.
Molly arrived at St Joseph’s, a monastery-type building outside Maidstone, surrounded by fields, trees and tranquillity. This was all so surreal to her.
Flo had paved the way for this visit. She and Art had been to see David and talked to him. It appeared he was still fuzzy about his past, and was very frail in his mind. Flo had warned her that David shuffled around a lot. But the amazing thing was: he remembered Molly. At least he’d said he had a picture of a beautiful girl in his mind, and he’d described her. He’d also said that he knew this girl was very precious to him and that he wanted to find her.
Flo had said David didn’t appear to remember the circumstances that he knew Molly under, or mention anything about her leaving, before he’d made that fateful flight.
Walking through the gates of St Joseph’s took all her strength. Compelled by her love for David and yet afraid of what she would find, Molly felt sick with nerves.
She saw him before he saw her, even though he was sitting on a bench facing the gate. Was he waiting for her, and did he even remember that she was coming?
His head was down, his feet shuffling the pebbles beneath him.
‘David?’
He looked up. He was beautiful. ‘Oh, David.’
‘M-Molly?’
He knew her name! ‘Oh yes, David, my love, it’s me – Molly.’
David stood. His slouching body gradually straightened.
Molly waited. They were feet apart, and she wanted to run to him and feel his arms around her. The moment seemed to stretch to eternity. Tears wet her face. ‘My David.’
His arms opened. She went into them. Not in the rushed way she wanted to, as David seemed afraid. Fragile.
They stood for a moment holding each other, their bodies swaying, David’s tears wetting her hair, her own tears soaking her face.
‘Sit down, my love. Let’s talk, eh?’
As if he were a child, David sat down. His hand had taken hers and he held onto it. The years rolled away as he said, ‘You’re beautiful, Molly.’
‘Do you remember me, David?’
‘I remember that I love you, and always have.’
Her body shivered. The woman he’d loved in the pure way they had known was no more. So much had happened to her. She felt dirty, and unworthy of him. Part of her wanted to run back through those gates she’d come through, and keep on running till she dropped down dead. But she had to remember what Flo had said to her, when she’d been speaking to her on the phone: ‘None of that was your doing, Molly. Please don’t let the sins of others ruin the rest of your life, as they did while they had you in their clutches.’
Flo was right. The road to David’s recovery was going to be a long one, but she was going to be with him every step of the way. Maybe one day she would tell David the truth, but that was for the future. For now, she had him back with her, and she was never going to let him go.
‘David, would you like to come and stay with me? I can look after you, and whatever treatment you need, I can bring you back here for. I have a car now and I drive.’
David looked at her, and his eyes – his lovely blue eyes – bored into hers. ‘Molly, I – I remember some things. My house, my family. Each day, pieces come back to me, and that has been happening since I came in here and they told me who I was; and more so since your friend came and told me about you. With you, I think I can get better, but I don’t know if the doctor here will let me come with you. I want to. I want that more than anything in the world. I know we belong to each other. We do, don’t we, Molly? You and me, we belong to each other.’
‘We do, darling. We do.’
Flo heard the music. It was her big moment, her favourite in the whole production, the moment she sang ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’. As she began the first lyrics, the hall was hushed. A sea of faces looked up at her. Amongst them she could see Ruby and Trixie, and Roland and Frazer, and Pauline and Fred and their family – all looking at her with love in their expressions. And next to them her darling Art, and
his parents, who’d been touring England and had now joined her and Art in London in readiness to go to Southampton, where they would all board the ship for Canada. Her ‘somewhere’ – where her happiness lay.
The door at the back of the hall opened.
For a moment she couldn’t believe her eyes, then a deep happiness entered her as she gazed at Molly and David standing in the open doorway, smiling at her, their arms linked, their bodies close.
Though tears of joy choked her, Flo raised her voice and sang the next line, putting all her heart and soul into it.
And their dreams had come true, as the song said they could. She’d dreamed of the day Molly would be reunited with her David, and now that had happened.
And she’d dreamed for so long of the day when she and Art could be together forever. And that had happened, too.
War had torn them all apart in one way or another, and had shattered so many lives, but that terrible time had enabled Flo to reach out to Pauline and Molly.
Together, they had come through it all.
Author’s Note
I am the proud owner of a wonderful book written by a remarkable lady, and personally signed by her – Secret Postings: Bletchley Park to the Pentagon by Charlotte Webb.
Charlotte, in her late eighties, still works at Bletchley Park, the code-breaking centre of England, where, in strict secrecy, she was stationed during the war and helped to make a great contribution towards victory and the saving of thousands of lives.
Through my friend, the author Kate Thompson, who facilitated a telephone call to Charlotte – known by the short version of her second Christian name, Betty – I experienced first-hand the ‘coming to life’ of this mysterious place.
Betty spoke of the long hours she worked and of the sometimes boring life she led at Bletchley, but she spoke with pride in her voice, as time has made her aware of the great importance of the work she was involved in. I got the impression, though, that the work she does now – welcoming guests, answering questions, giving talks and writing her memoir – is a much more interesting existence than code-breaking was.