by June Francis
‘She’s not much of a mother,’ muttered Vivien.
‘That’s enough of that,’ murmured Flora.
The girl sighed heavily. ‘It’s nice that Mike’s back. I wonder if we’ll see him.’
Flora touched the fair curls. ‘I wonder,’ she said, struggling with conflicting emotions where Mike was concerned. It was stupid to be so pleased that he was back this side of the Atlantic. It would be because they needed more planes for air-lifting supplies into the Western sectors of Berlin. During the war Burtonwood had been one of the biggest American air bases in Britain. After the war they had handed it over to the R.A.F. but now it seemed the Yanks were back. But what had possessed Mike to go out with Hilda, knowing what she was like? But then, Hilda was the beauty of the family and men were susceptible to that kind of thing. Even Mike whom she had believed had a good head on his shoulders, for all he acted crazy at times.
She did not sleep well. The next morning Mike and Hilda and Tom were still in her thoughts.
Flora spent her lunchtime at her father’s, telling him about Hilda’s return.
‘No good’ll come of it,’ he said gruffly, as they stood in his tiny yard, feeding his pigeons. ‘She’s a flibbertigibbet.’
‘I wouldn’t argue the fact, Father,’ she murmured, stroking one of the bird’s heads with the tip of a finger. ‘But she’s family.’
Her father gave her a look. ‘And there’s a black sheep in every one,’ he snorted. ‘Don’t you be bringing her round to see me.’
‘I doubt she’d come,’ Flora said, putting the pigeon back.
‘Suits me.’ And on that note she left him and went back to work.
Flora felt keyed up that evening although she would not admit the reason to herself. She washed and changed into a clean frock. George had gone out with a Guy, in the hope of collecting money for fireworks for Bonfire Night. She was glad to have him out of the way, despite his having been unusually friendly with Vivien earlier. That was probably due to the girl’s having stuffed some old clothes of Flora’s father’s with newspaper, providing a decent body for the cabbage head fronted with a Guy Fawkes mask which George had drawn.
She put the wireless on low, and picked up some darning. Vivien, instead of sitting like she usually did, reading a book or crayoning, prowled in and out of the kitchen, going up the lobby several times and opening the door. In the end Flora could stand it no longer and said, ‘What’s the matter with you? Have you got ants in your pants?’
Vivien sighed. ‘I wish I was a boy. If I was you’d let me go out and collect bommie wood and ask for pennies for the Guy.’
‘Not at your age I wouldn’t and you know it,’ she murmured. ‘I understand how you feel, though. Boys and men,’ she said with a certain tautness, ‘seem to have all the fun. But is that what’s really wrong with you?’
Vivien shrugged. ‘I thought Mike might come.’
‘Mike?’ Flora’s nerves jumped and she gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Why should he come and see us?’
The girl gave her a look. ‘He liked us – I know he liked us.’
‘Well, perhaps you’ll see him when you go out with your mam,’ she said lightly. ‘She seems to believe that she has him on a string.’
‘Mam doesn’t really want me,’ said Vivien in a clear tight voice. ‘She never has.’
Flora said nothing. What was the point in trying to deny it? The child wasn’t an idiot. She pushed the darning needle in and out of George’s sock, her ears attuned, despite herself, for the sound of the door knocker.
‘It’s true,’ muttered Vivien, curling up on the rug. ‘When I was little – before I came here, she never took me anywhere with her but left me with Aunty Doris’s gran.’
‘It wasn’t easy for her, having no husband,’ excused Flora, seeking a way to change the subject.
‘You’ve got no husband,’ countered Vivien quickly. ‘I did think that you might marry Uncle Steve.’
‘No,’ said Flora shortly, putting down the sock and glancing at the clock. There would be no visit from Mike at this time of night. ‘Shall I make us a cup of char?’ Her expression was cheerful. ‘And then how about Hans Christian Andersen?’
Vivien nodded. The tea was made; ‘The Little Matchgirl’ read. George came in. They all went upstairs. And Flora had an overwhelming desire to burst into tears as she lay in her lonely bed.
The next day at work the hours seemed to drag, and having Mr Brown constantly watching her did not ease Flora’s jumpy mood.
As she strode home, the shopping bag swung in her hand and her footsteps click-clacked rapidly. She wished she could go to the moon – that she could pull the stars down. Crazy, but she wanted the impossible – she wanted a man she could rely on. Or did she? Damn! Men confused all sensible thinking.
She exchanged a few words with Little Paddy as she picked up Vivien. ‘And how are you feeling now, girlie?’ he asked, stroking her shoulder and chucking her under the chin.
‘Fine thanks,’ said Flora, moving away quickly, thinking that he’d be kissing her next and she would have to say something then.
She fumbled for her latch key as she approached her doorstep, and jumped when a figure loomed up out of the darkness.
‘Hi, Flora.’ The man in an olive drab raincoat and eagle cap badge straightened up from the door jamb and thrust a bunch of flowers at her.
She stared at Mike, and for a moment she could not speak for the huge lump in her throat. It was ten seconds after she took the flowers that she remembered Hilda’s visit. ‘And what are these for?’ she murmured, managing to keep her voice steady but unable to resist burying her nose in the russet-coloured chrysanthemums.
‘I would have bought marigolds, but you once told me it’s the wrong time of year,’ he said quietly.
She was touched, and annoyed that he could make her feel the way she did. ‘Fancy you remembering that,’ she said drily. ‘Where have you sprung from? Just got off the boat from New York?’
‘No.’ His brow puckered slightly. ‘Came in September but wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.’ There was a short silence, of which Vivien quickly took advantage. ‘You haven’t said hello to me, Mike.’ She put herself in front of him. ‘I haven’t gone invisible, have I?’
He smiled his heart-turning smile. ‘No, chick. How’ve you been?’
‘Very well, thank you. But Rosie died.’
‘What?’ His head snapped up and he stared at Flora, who had winced at her niece’s blunt statement.
‘Didn’t you know?’ Her voice was suddenly uneven. ‘I thought our Hilda might have told you.’
‘Hilda?’ he said blankly. ‘No, she didn’t. How – did it happen?’
‘She drowned in a water tank.’ She averted her face and rammed her key into the lock.
He came to life and pushed open the door. ‘Hell, Flora, what a thing to happen. You poor kid.’
‘Don’t pity me,’ she said vehemently. ‘I don’t need pity.’
‘Who said anything about pity?’ His tone was serious. ‘But sympathy, honey, surely I can give you that?’ He took her arm and walked up the dark lobby with Vivien behind them.
‘Perhaps. But you’ve been but of my life for a while and maybe it would be better if you stayed out of it,’ she muttered. ‘You and our Hilda both.’
‘What the hell has Hilda been saying to you?’
‘I don’t want to talk about her.’ She pulled away from him as they came into tne unlit kitchen. ‘Now where did I leave the matches?’ Her trembling hands searched the lace runner on the sideboard and found the box of Swan Vestas. She struck a match, instantly casting a pool of light.
Mike’s hand caught hers. ‘I’ll light the mantle,’ he said. ‘You sit down and rest. And take it from me, your sister can’t be trusted.’
A slight laugh escaped her. ‘D’you think I need you to tell me that? The thing is, we haven’t seen each other for a long time.’
‘A helluva long time. A hundred times I’ve been go
ing to write to you but each time I kept thinking about what you said about Tom and a clean break – so I didn’t do it.’
‘It proves something,’ she said, sitting and thinking inconsequentially how useful it would to be tall enough to light the gas without getting on a chair every time.
‘It proves that I respected your wishes.’ He flashed her a glance as he pulled the chains to adjust the gaslight. ‘And I’ve thought of you. How have you been? Apart from losing Rosie, that is?’
‘I’ve survived,’ she said brightly.
‘Only survived?’ Mike turned and placed his hands on her shoulders. His grey eyes gazed into hers. ‘Then you missed me?’ he said quietly.
For a moment she said nothing, thinking of Hilda and the two and a half years since they last saw each other. ‘I missed you.’ Her voice was light as she pulled away from him. ‘But it would be strange if I hadn’t. It was fun with you.’
His expression was suddenly uncertain. ‘It was more than that between us. Why d’you think I’m here, Flo?’
She moistened her lips. ‘You tell me! I presume I’m supposed to believe that you must have missed me.’
‘Supposed? Flora, believe it.’ He would have pulled her close but she placed her hands against his chest.
‘Whoa! Not so fast.’ She decided to carry on playing it frothy and light. ‘I haven’t exactly been in hibernation while you’ve been away. You can’t expect to take up where we left off, just like that, after me believing you in California and gone for good.’
‘You mean that we have to go back to the beginning,’ he said quietly. ‘Get to know each other all over again. It won’t work – we already know each other and what we want.’ And without any further preamble he kissed her. She fought him but the feel of his mouth on hers and the sheer brute strength of him momentarily subdued the fight in her.
‘I’m cold,’ said Vivien forlornly. ‘Will you two stop canoodling and light the fire?’
Flora pulled away instantly, her heart thumping like any adolescent’s after a first kiss. ‘Priorities. Let’s get our priorities right and light the fire,’ she said, a touch breathless, impatient with herself for allowing him to have such an effect on her. ‘We haven’t had any tea. And where’s George?’
‘Wood hunting.’ Vivien crouched close to the fireplace as Flora moved away from Mike to riddle the dead cinders with sudden energy before shovelling out the ashes.
‘Here, woman,’ said Mike, taking the shovel from her.
‘Thanks.’ She determinedly avoided his twinkling gaze, scrunching paper and laid it in the grate.
‘I remember the first cup of tea you made me,’ he said, coming in from the yard where he had emptied the ashes into the bin.
Flora glanced up at him from her kneeling position. ‘I remember you coming out of her next door’s,’ she said in a low voice so that Vivien, who had moved out of the way, could not hear.
‘That was the first time we set eyes on each other. I think I fell in love with you then.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ she whispered, trying to concentrate on getting the fire going. ‘How could you? We didn’t even know each other.’
‘I wanted to look after you. To protect you.’
‘You didn’t come back.’
‘I didn’t believe that you’d want me to. If looks could kill, I’d have been dead at your feet.’
‘You’d kept me awake. I was mad at you. And that’s what I really meant about remembering you coming from next door.’
‘I thought you understood about all that,’ he said in a low voice. ‘How is Lena, by the way?’ He leaned back on his heels as the fire began to burn.
‘I don’t know how you dare ask,’ said Flora, suddenly cross. ‘But she’s left. Her husband came home and found her in bed with a Yank. There was all hell let loose. I have new neighbours now. Quieter.’
‘Oh?’ He did not look a mite embarrassed, much to her annoyance. ‘I bet she’s not as half as interesting to the neighbours.’
Flora gave him a hard stare. ‘I should think not,’ she said, emphasising each word. ‘Mrs Bryce brought down the tone of the neighbourhood.’
‘Who said that to you?’ he said lightly. ‘Her over the road?’
She bit her lower lip. ‘Oh, shut up, Mike. She was a whore and you know it.’
‘Who? Her over the road?’
She had to force herself not to smile. ‘Stop it. I don’t want you making me laugh.’
‘Why? You need to laugh. The light’s gone out of your eyes, and your bloom’s all gone.’
‘You sure know how to make a girl feel good,’ she muttered, getting off her knees. He took her elbow, helping her up, and for a moment his lips touched the tip of her nose. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘There’s no point in starting it all over again. Sooner or later you’ll go home again. Anyway, you’ve got our Hilda chasing you now.’
‘Hilda again,’ he said impatiently. ‘What has she said to you?’
‘Enough!’ Suddenly there was anger in her voice. ‘You’ve had fun with her, so I presume you fancy her. She still wants to go to America and she’s always had a soft spot for you – so she says!’
He stared at her; then a slight smile lifted his mouth. ‘I believe you’re jealous.’
‘No, I’m not,’ she lied, tilting her head to one side. ‘I think that possibly you might – might, I say – be a good influence on her.’
He jingled the coins in his pocket. ‘Perhaps I might. It might atone for my many sins.’
‘Hmmph!’ She scowled at him and went into the back kitchen, lit the gas mantle, shut the door and began to search for the potatoes, determined to ignore his existence.
She had peeled two when Mike came up behind her. ‘I’d rather you tried reforming me,’ he said in her ear. ‘Your Hilda’s as tough as a buffalo. I don’t know if I’ve got the stamina to crack her hide.’
‘You’ve made a start,’ she responded promptly. ‘At least she’s going to take Viv out on Saturday. The evening, of course, was too much. She’s going dancing on Saturday night as you probably already know.’
‘Not with me she isn’t.’
Flora turned and stared at him. ‘Not?’
‘No.’ He dug his hands in his pockets and leaned against the draining board. ‘It’s a helluva mess back at the base most of the buildings have fallen into disrepair and there’s grass growing on the runways. We’re up to our eyes in mud and there’s an emergency on. I can’t come and go as I please. Saturday night is out for me this week – but maybe next Saturday …’ His eyes teased hers. ‘I might ask her out next week.’
She threw a potato at him which he hurriedly fielded. ‘Unless you could come out with me?’ His grey eyes flickered over her.
‘I don’t know if I want to,’ she said, determinedly firm.
His voice was quiet. ‘It would sure annoy Hilda.’ He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
‘So what?’ she said slowly.
There was a silence. Then he murmured, ‘I didn’t think you’d give me up to her devious ways without some kind of fight.’
She could not prevent a laugh. ‘You believe that you’re worth fighting over?’
He laughed. ‘Hell, yeah! Why let her have it all her own way? She’s damned nice-looking, Flo, but you’re not so bad yourself. In fact, you can be almost perfect when you make the effort.’
‘Thanks.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘You’ve a nerve. D’you know that?’
‘Sure. How about it?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Good girl.’ He leaned forward and kissed the corner of her right eyebrow. She knew that she was being completely stupid allowing him into her life again. ‘Now what’s for chow?’ he murmured.
‘You weren’t asked.’ He voice was mild.
‘No.’ He kept on staring at her and she stared back. Then she laughed. He was back and life could be brighter for a while, as long as she did not take him seriously.
She peeled several more potatoes.
Chapter Fourteen
Flora shortened the stems of the chrysanthemums and bashed their ends before putting them in a glass vase. She breathed in their earthy fragrance. Never, ever, had a man bought her flowers before; Tom had thought them a waste of money.
As she spread the table with the best linen cloth and placed the flowers in the middle of it she was aware of Mike watching her. Suddenly she remembered that day when the children had gone to Hoylake on the Sunday School outing, and her wishing for a man to come through the door to lighten her lonely meal. Mike had wanted to take her away from all this. For a second she pondered on a Cinderella-after-the-ball existence, and decided that glass slippers could hardly be called practical for work.
She stirred the scouse to stop it from catching, half listening to Vivien as she read a poem about autumn to Mike. It was one that Rosie had loved to hear Flora read to them. Her daughter had enjoyed this time of year – scuffing her feet through masses of fallen leaves in the park. And the preparations for Christmas had filled her with excitement, despite her never receiving much in her stocking. The Christmas story was pure magic to her and she had lived in hope of one day getting a doll with eyes that opened and shut.
Last Christmas had been terrible. Flora’s throat was suddenly tight and she wanted to cry.
‘What is it?’ said Mike quietly.
She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire, and shook her head wordlessly. He reached out a hand and caught her free one, holding it firmly in his strong clasp.
She was comforted and was able to raise a smile minutes later when George, with a dirty face and cut knees, arrived home with a tale of Mad Hewey who came round selling Aunt Sally, a red disinfectant, from a handcart. He was a huge man and not quite right in the head.
‘You should have seen him, Mam,’ said the boy, hardly noticing Mike in his rush to get the story out. ‘He went crazy! There were these two gangs of lads hurling bricks and stones at each other. One gang said the other lot had been pinching their bommie wood.’