by June Francis
Stephen flushed. ‘Your legs are nicer.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘What have you come for, Steve?’
He leaned against the table. ‘I thought you might like to go to the pictures. There’s a good film on at the Majestic.’
‘It’s kind of you but I’m tired and I’ve things to do.’
‘Couldn’t you do them some other time?’ He stared at her moodily.
‘When? I work all day, remember?’
‘Is tea going to be long, Mam?’ said George, getting up from his chair and going over to the wireless.
‘About half an hour.’ Flora looked at Stephen. ‘Have you had yours?’
He shook his head. ‘There’ll be something ready for me at home.’
‘You’ll be going then?’
‘I suppose so.’ Reluctantly he moved towards the door.
She saw him up the lobby. Away from the children he tried to draw her into his arms but she resisted. ‘I haven’t time, Steve. I’ve got a meal to get ready.’
‘You never seem to have time for me,’ he muttered, holding her hand. ‘I suppose you’re still blaming me for Rosie and not liking me for telling you about Tom.’
She suddenly felt sorry for him. ‘Not any more.’ She aimed a peck at his cheek but he turned his head quickly and kissed her on the mouth, putting his arms round her far too tightly. ‘Stephen!’ she said against his mouth. ‘Let me go!’
‘Marry me, Floss.’ He sounded quite desperate. ‘I really want you.’
‘I’ve told you, I’m not ready to marry anybody at the moment.’
‘You were always too good for Tom. He used you, Floss, to get back at your Hilda for going out with our Jimmy.’
She was irritated, although over the last year she had wondered about that herself. ‘Thanks very much,’ she murmured. ‘That doesn’t make me feel any better about it all.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘Forgive me.’ And he kissed her again before she could say anything.
Inwardly she sighed but she allowed him his kiss, which went on far too long before she pushed him away.
She closed the door on him with relief. Then a giggle rose inside her. Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor – rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief? It was a game that Hilda had played with plum stones as a girl. She had always cheated if it had not worked out the way she wanted; pinching Flora’s stones to make them up to rich man.
Which man did her sister really have her eye on? She suspected that Hilda did not know herself yet – and only time would tell.
Chapter Fifteen
The following week she arrived just as Flora was making her way out. She smiled like a child who’d found a bar of chocolate. ‘Hello, sister, on your way to work?’
‘Well, I’m not heading for a slow boat to China,’ said Flora drily.
‘What a pity.’ Hilda’s eyes danced. ‘Remember how we used to go in the Chinese laundry with the sheets and you’d avoid that bit in front of the counter?’
Flora could not prevent a smile. ‘That was because you told me there was a trap door there – and if I fell in I’d end up as a white slave girl for a Chinese emperor.’
‘Alas, neither of us ever did!’ Hilda gazed at her fingernails. ‘Life’s been rather dull. But it’s brightening up again now.’
‘Oh aye? Going out with Mike tonight, are you?’ she said sweetly.
‘Mike!’ Hilda’s head lifted abruptly, and she paused, before saying, ‘Oh, yeah. Mike’s fun.’ She stared across the street. ‘I was talking to your boss the other evening. I met him by Anfield football ground.’
‘Oh?’
‘He was telling me about his war experiences. And about being in India till we gave them their country back. You know he’s strangled men with his bare hands,’ she said with relish.
‘I can see him doing it,’ said Flora drily.
‘He’s a bit younger than me but tough and strong.’ A small smile played about Hilda’s mouth. ‘But I quite like men like that. I find them exciting. Kevin reminds me of James Mason in that film with Margaret Lockwood.’
‘The Wicked Lady.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You’re daft if you like men treating you like that,’ said Flora.
Her sister shrugged. ‘We’re different types, Flo. Now Stephen would probably suit you better.’ She frowned. ‘He’s so hard-working and dependable. He’ll probably go far.’
‘Probably be very rich eventually,’ said Flora with a serious air. ‘And lots of money can’t be sneezed at.’
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ said Hilda, wrinkling her dainty nose.
Flora opened her eyes wide. ‘Well, life’s been hard for me the last few years – and I don’t want to be going out to work forever. I’d like some comfort.’ Her smile was honeyed. ‘Anyway, enough about men. I have to get to work. Don’t be late bringing Viv back. I’m going out, and Mrs Murphy’s going to have her.’
‘With Stephen?’ called Hilda.
‘Mind your own business.’ Flora flung the words over her shoulder and ran up the street.
‘D’you think Princess Elizabeth will ’ave a boy or a girl?’ said Maggie, putting a plate of scones in the window.
Flora looked up from wiping the counter and smiled. ‘I should imagine they want a boy, just like Carmel Murphy who’s expecting in the spring.’
‘I wonder what they’ll call it,’ muttered Maggie, taking a well-earned rest and sitting on a stool. ‘Philip after its father or George after the King? It’s due soon, isn’t it?’
‘A couple of weeks,’ said Flora. ‘And then there’ll be jars out, I bet. Champagne and caviar! Then it’ll probably be roast lamb and mint sauce – new potatoes – no, they’ll be out of season. Make it roast potatoes or Purée de Pommes de Terre!’ She waved a cloth with a flourish.
‘What’s them?’ asked Maggie with a laugh. ‘Yer’re sounding in a cheerful mood, Flo.’
‘Very thin mashed potatoes,’ replied Flora, knowing that she could not tell Maggie why she was in a good mood. Maggie probably would not approve of the Yanks. ‘We’ll probably have potatoes done in the embers on Bonfire Night next week. Nice and black and burnt! You should see the wood that our George and his mates have been collecting. It’s in our yard and I keep falling over it. I don’t doubt they’ll be out again getting more.’
‘Lads!’ exclaimed Maggie. ‘Where d’yer get yer patience from, Flo?’
‘I often lose it,’ she said ruefully, stemming the slight anxiety she always experienced lately when thinking of George. ‘Here’s a couple of customers.’ And she turned to the first one, hoping the day would go quickly.
Flora could not prevent a feeling of excitement as she made her way home from work. Perhaps Mike would already be there waiting for her as he had been last week? But maybe Hilda would be there as well? Hopefully not.
She had barely reached the top of her street when she heard her name being called, and to her surprise she saw Kathleen Murphy speeding towards her in the dark. ‘What is it? What’s the panic?’ She seized the girl’s hands before they collided against her chest.
‘It’s George,’ cried the girl in a tearful voice. ‘The floor’s collapsed upstairs an’ he’s trapped.’
‘What?’ For a moment Flora could not move. This was something she had always feared.
‘Yer’d better hurry. That Yank who used to come here has gone to help.’
‘Mike,’ said Flora in a dazed voice. ‘Show me!’ she ordered, taking the girl’s hand and beginning to run down the street.
‘George was collecting bommie wood,’ panted Kathleen. ‘In that bombed house round the corner. The Yank told me to get somebody to phone the fire brigade an’ an ambulance. But I didn’t know where to go and I knew it was time for yer to come home so I ran for yer.’
Flora made no reply as they came to an abrupt halt in front of a row of houses. Some were lit up, but several had been damaged in a landmine explosion, and although parts
of their roofs existed as well as walls, the windows were unglazed and like dark empty eyesockets gazing out on the long front gardens and the road. She and Kathleen clambered over broken clumps of sandstone that cluttered the path and went towards the glimmer of wavering light they could see.
A couple of boys looked up as they approached, and despite their filthy faces and clothes Flora recognised them as regular mates of George. ‘Why?’ she demanded in an angry breathy voice. ‘We’ve got a yard full of wood.’ They made no answer, just staring at her, their eyes gleaming in their mucky faces. Kathleen pushed one of them aside and climbed over more rubble in the direction of a large bay window. Flora left the boys to follow her. She hoisted herself up on to the window ledge but before she could climb in, a voice said, ‘Don’t come in.’
‘Mike! It’s me!’ Her hands shook so much that she almost fell inside.
‘All right, Flora.’ He sounded tired. ‘But you still don’t come in. Is the fire brigade on it’s way?
‘No!’ She moistened her mouth. ‘Kathleen came for me. Where’s George? Is he – ?’ Fear suddenly suspended her voice.
‘He’s knocked out but he’s okay,’ Mike’s voice quickly reassured her. ‘But don’t waste time talking, honey – go and phone. I need help to free him.’
‘Can’t I help? We could dig together and –’
‘Hell, Flo! If it was that easy I could have had the guys digging,’ he rasped. ‘Just do as you’re told and go, for Jesus’ sake. Or the rest of the house might come down and we’ll both be buried, and I don’t fancy that!’
Without another word Flora went to the nearby newsagent’s where there was a telephone. On the way Kathleen told her how George had got up on the roof by a drainpipe to take some slates off and make a hole. Apparently the stairs inside the house had already been removed but the boys had had their eye to the wood upstairs. ‘He’s not gonna die is he?’ she demanded of Flora in a trembling voice.
‘Don’t even think it,’ said Flora fiercely, fearing that the thought might foster reality. They came to the shop and went inside.
Flora and Kathleen had just got back to the ruined house when they heard the fire engine’s bell come clanging on the air. The news about George had spread and a crowd had gathered at the bottom of the garden. Stephen suddenly pushed his way towards her, his face taut. ‘I heard that George is trapped in there. God, Floss! What made him go in? The whole place could come tumbling down!’
She stared at him, her mouth trembling. ‘He’s a boy,’ she said unsteadily, and turning from him she ran towards the house.
She straddled the window sill. ‘Mike! The firemen are here. Where are you?’ Her eyes tried to pierce the darkness.’
‘We’re in the back room.’ His voice was husky. ‘Don’t worry, he’s still breathing. I’ve managed to shift some of the beams and rubble but there’s a great big cast iron bath wedged over part of him. It’s protected him a bit from some of the stuff that came down with it.’ He paused. ‘You’re all right, aren’t you, honey?’
She swallowed. ‘I’m not going to pieces if that’s what you mean. You! Are you hurt?’
‘A few scratches. Don’t you come in, whatever happens.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she said. ‘Here comes the cavalry.’ She thought she heard him laugh as she got quickly out of the way.
It seemed an age to Flora before they brought George out. She gazed anxiously down into his filthy face before her eyes went beyond him to where Mike stood in his shirt sleeves, his jacket slung over his shoulder. He was as mucky as George. ‘Thanks,’ she whispered, just as she felt a hand close round her arm.
‘Is he all right, Floss?’ said Stephen.
‘I’m not a doctor,’ she said impatiently. Turning, she saw one of the stretcher bearers. She had not heard the ambulance arrive. Within minutes George was wrapped in a red blanket and was in the vehicle. Flora followed him and as she did, Stephen caught her arm again. ‘I’ll follow you in the car. You’ll be wanting a lift back,’ he called as she climbed into the ambulance. She made no reply, and the next moment the ambulance roared off up the road.
Kathleen stared at it in dismay and her bottom lip quivered. She looked over at Mike. ‘They’ve left us be’ind.’
‘It’s okay, kid.’ His eyes were on Stephen running down the road. Kathleen pulled on his sleeve.
‘What’ll we do?’
‘Do?’ Slowly he brought his attention to bear on her. She looked so worried that he put his arm round her. ‘You’re one of the Murphy girls, aren’t you?’
‘Aye. What’ll we do?’ She looked up at him.
Mike smiled. ‘Go and ask your mom for a cup of tea.’
‘Yer think George’ll be all right?’
‘Sure.’
He began to push his way through the dispersing crowds. Several people slapped him on the back as he passed. ‘Well done, Yank.’ He winced but smiled crookedly as he sucked blood off his knuckles. Then they collided with Hilda and Vivien.
‘They told us our George had had an accident,’ cried the girl. ‘Was that him going off in the ambulance?’ Mike nodded.
‘You look a mess,’ said Hilda, frowning at him. ‘Our Viv said that you were seeing our Flo. Did she go in the ambulance? Was that her fiancé I saw speaking to her?’
Mike opened his mouth to say something but Vivien tugged on his sleeve. ‘Mike! Mike! George isn’t dead, is he?’
‘No, Viv.’ His expression was serious. ‘Your aunt Flo’s gone in the ambulance with him. He’s roughed up and unconscious but I’m sure he’ll be okay.’
‘Good.’ She let out a great sigh of relief. ‘I was worried.’
‘I told you there was nothing to be worried about,’ said Hilda brightly. ‘Now what do we do? I was going out but I suppose I’ll have to stay with you.’
‘Was?’ Mike raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean you mightn’t go now?’ he drawled.
Her eyes widened. ‘I can’t leave Viv on her own.’ She hesitated. ‘Although our Flo did say something about a Mrs Murphy looking after her.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ said Mike, his expression tight. ‘You go off on your date.’
‘Are you sure?’ Hilda’s voice was concerned. ‘I don’t want to leave you in the lurch. I could break my date.’
Mike shook his head. ‘That’s okay. I’ve got nothing better to do,’ he said quietly.
‘Thanks, Mike.’ She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘You are kind.’ She turned to Vivien, who was staring at her with a calculating expression.
‘Bye, Mam,’ she said, waving a hand slowly.
‘Bye, sweetheart.’ Hilda blew Vivien a kiss, and brushing past her went on down the road.
Mike, aching and sore, with the girls either side of him, came to the Murphy’s house. Carmel was standing in the doorway with Bernadette in her arms. ‘Why, if it isn’t Flo’s Yank,’ she said with a welcoming smile. ‘You look wild. Come on inside and have a cup of tea.’
‘He saved George, Mam,’ said Kathleen in a tired voice. ‘And now he’s gone to the hossie.’
‘Is that right now?’ said Carmel, slanting her eldest daughter a slightly anxious look. ‘I’m just glad that yer weren’t with him.’ She led the way in, saying in an aside to Mike. ‘Follows that boy here, there and everywhere. Even though he’s quite rough with her since Rosie went. I understand that it’s been hard on the boy, but I wish that she wasn’t so fond of him because he’s a Protestant and we’re gonna have to split them up sooner or later. I wish she’d gone to be a nun now instead of Mary.’
Mike made no answer, sinking on to a chair as she dumped Bernadette on the kitchen floor. Several other girls turned and looked at him, then at their mother as she lifted the steaming kettle from the hob.
Carmel gave him a speculative glance. ‘George was telling our Kat’leen yer were back. Still fond of Flo, are yer, Yank? Cried her eyes out here, she did, when you left last time.’
‘Did she?’ His smile
was the slightest bit grim. ‘I’ve been told that there’s someone else on the scene.’
There was a brief silence before Carmel said, ‘Aye, I’ve seen him. A war hero by all accounts. Was wounded and got himself a medal. Has a car and a few bob. It could turn a woman’s head – especially when life is hard.’
‘Flora doesn’t get her head turned easily,’ he muttered, ramming his hands in his pockets. ‘The Flora I used to know didn’t, anyway.’
‘She’s had a tough time and a woman gets weary of coping alone.’ She handed him a cup of tea and his dust begrimed hands curled round its warmth as their eyes met. ‘But I’ll tell you this, Yank –’
‘Mike.’
‘Mike.’ She smiled. ‘George doesn’t like him.’
‘Their Hilda said that they were engaged.’
‘Well now, I wouldn’t know about that. Flo hasn’t mentioned it to me and she doesn’t wear a ring.’
Mike stared at her thoughtfully, nodded and drank his tea, half listening to Kathleen telling Vivien, in a breathless whisper, what had happened to George. He drained his cup and got to his feet just as Mr Murphy came in.
The little man gave him a belligerent look. ‘What’s this now, woman? You entertaining the Yanks while me back’s turned?’
‘Don’t be a bigger idjit than yer normally are, Joseph. He’s Flo’s Yank and he’s just been after saving George’s life.’ Quickly she told him what had happened.
‘Is that right now?’ He nodded his head vigorously several times as he stared at Mike. ‘You’ll be needing a drink, Yank.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’ve got a drop of whiskey.’
‘I wouldn’t like to deprive you,’ said Mike, restlessly turning his cap between his fingers.
‘No trouble, laddie.’ Little Paddy winked at him. ‘I’m not short. The Little People see me all right.’ He went up the lobby and into the parlour, coming back with a full bottle of Irish whiskey. He proceeded to pour two generous measures into cups. His wife gave him a frown and he dropped a short measure into her tea.
Mr Murphy gave a toast. ‘To the lad’s recovery – but not too quick. It’ll be a mite more peaceful around here without him.’