by June Francis
‘Take you some time to clean them, then,’ murmured Flora, sitting down in the rocking chair.
Hilda pulled a face. ‘I’ve already mentioned to Kevin that I could do with some help upstairs.’ She held out her hand, gazing admiringly at it. ‘D’you like my ring? The diamond’s not a bad size, is it?’
Flora admired the ring. ‘Beautiful. And you really think he’ll give you some help?’
Hilda sat and stretched lovely legs towards the fire. ‘If he doesn’t, he’s in for a rude awakening. I’m not going to be a skivvy for any man. But don’t you go telling him that.’
Flora could see trouble ahead, but she smiled. ‘Why should I spoil the wedding? I really hope you’ll make it this time. You’ll make a lovely bride.’
‘Thanks.’ Hilda fluffed out her hair and taking out a compact she stared at herself in the tiny mirror and made a kissing sound at her reflection. ‘I’m quite good for thirty, aren’t I?’
‘You’re quite good for thirty-five too,’ said Flora, amused.
Hilda snapped the gold compact closed. ‘I’ve told him I’m twenty-nine – he’s twenty-eight.’
‘You’re daft. He’s bound to find out. Have you got your dress yet?’
‘I’m having it made. White brocade and lace with a heart-shaped neck and long tight sleeves,’ Hilda murmured in a dreamy voice.
‘White?’ said Flora.
Hilda flashed her a warning look. ‘Don’t say it, Flo. I always wanted a big white wedding, so why shouldn’t I have one?’
‘Very virginal. What about Viv?’
Hilda frowned. ‘I know about Viv but I don’t want everybody else knowing.’
‘Does Kevin?’
She nodded. ‘I thought it best. So I told him I had a fiancé who was killed in the desert.’ She lit a cigarette, gazing into the fire.
‘And is it true?’ asked Flora, her fingers tightening about her cup.
Hilda grimaced. ‘It’s near enough to the truth. We were going to get married.’
‘You and who?’
There was a silence before Hilda replied, ‘Me and Jimmy Martin. Viv’s his child.’
Flora stared at her and for a moment she could not speak. The news was such a relief. ‘You had me almost believing that she was Tom’s child,’ she said slowly.
‘That’s what I wanted you to believe.’ Hilda stared at the glowing tip of her cigarette.
‘Does this mean that you and Tom never did sleep together?’
Hilda hesitated, then sang softly, ‘Cross my heart and hope to die, if I ever tell a lie.’ She shrugged. ‘You know what a liar I am, Flo.’
Flora was silent, not quite convinced which was the lie.
Hilda blew out a stream of smoke. ‘Let’s forget it. Life has moved on for both of us.’
‘Yes,’ said Flora. ‘But what about Viv? Will you tell her who her father is one day?’
Hilda squared her shoulders. ‘That’s up to you, little sister,’ she said, her expression altering to a more cheerful one. ‘You’ve had the keeping of her. You do realise that makes Stephen her uncle? It would be fitting somehow if you did marry him.’
‘More fitting if you did,’ said Flora, getting up and going to look out of the window to see if there was any sign of their father. ‘I take it that you won’t be having Viv living with you and your future husband then?’
Hilda looked surprised. ‘I didn’t think I’d be able to pry her away from you! It’s obvious that she looks upon you as her mother now, Flo. But I’ll still take her off your hands once a week. She can come with you to the shop every Saturday.’ She got up from her chair. ‘I don’t think I’m going to have the big reunion scene with dear Father. I’ll have to go back to work. Anyway, I suppose my idea of having him giving me away is a bit daft.’ Her brows puckered. ‘He’d probably shame me by turning up in his old overcoat and a flat cap.’
‘He has a best bowler and a suit.’ Flora stared at her pensively. ‘It would be a good thing, you two making friends. Why don’t you call at our house on Christmas day? Father will be there and you can play the prodigal in earnest – ask his forgiveness and about giving you away. Sometimes being on neutral ground makes a job easier.’
Hilda pulled a face. ‘I don’t know. Kevin and me planned on having our Christmas dinner in a restaurant and then going to see Doris – her mam always throws a big party for all the family.’
‘Forget it,’ said Flora with a shrug. ‘I take it that Doris’ll be your bridesmaid?’
Her sister nodded. ‘She is my best friend despite the occasional fights we’ve had.’ On those words she opened the front door and went out.
Flora watched her go, thinking how much Vivien would have enjoyed being a bridesmaid. Then she closed the door and sat in the rocking chair to wait a while longer for her father, but he did not come. She left for work, considering all that Hilda had said, especially about Jimmy Martin being Viv’s dad, and wondering whether she should do anything about it.
Chapter Eighteen
‘“Away in a manger, no crib for a bed. The little Lord –’” Vivien stopped singing to gaze at Flora as they walked side by side down the street. ‘What’s the matter, Aunty Flo? You aren’t joining in. I thought you liked Christmas carols.’
Flora smiled. ‘I do, pet. It’s just that I’ve a lot to think about.’
‘About Christmas and Mam’s wedding?’ asked the girl eagerly. ‘I really like my new frock.’
‘Those and other things.’
‘What other things?’ Vivien squeezed her hand as they came to the front path. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask? Is it secret – is it presents?’
Flora’s smile was real this time. ‘No. Although that has been on my mind.’ How could she say that she was thinking about Viv’s father?’
‘Are you thinking of Rosie?’ she surprised Flora by saying. ‘I’m always thinking of Rosie. Not right in front of my mind all the time. But she’s there at the back.’
‘It’s like that with me,’ said Flora, staring down into the pretty face surrounded by blonde curls. She sought traces of Jimmy, or even Stephen, in its features but she could only see Hilda. She mentally shook herself. Forget it. Christmas was coming and decision making could wait till another time.
‘You won’t be too sad this Christmas?’ Vivien sounded worried. ‘I mean, I know we’ll be a little sad still – but you won’t be a lot, will you?’
‘Of course not.’ She touched the girl’s head. ‘I’ve got you, haven’t I? You’ll cheer me up.’
Vivien nodded. ‘And Mike will, if he can come. And George!’
Flora laughed. ‘Too right they will!’
She turned her key in the lock and immediately heard voices, male voices – George’s and Mike’s – coming from the parlour.
They went in and her nose was assailed by the resiny smell of the fir tree placed in a bucket and set in the bay window. George was in the act of attaching tiny candles to its spiny branches while Mike was depositing parcels around the trunk.
‘Oh, lovely!’ cried Vivien, dancing over to them.
‘What are you two up to?’ said Flora softly, placing her shopping on the floor.
Mike glanced over his shoulder and smiled. ‘Go out again. We haven’t finished.’
‘Too cold.’ She returned his smile. ‘You managed to get away then?’
‘Looks like it.’ He straightened up and kissed her. ‘Can’t be with you on Christmas Day, though. Sorry, honey.’
She swallowed her disappointment. ‘Can’t have everything,’ she said lightly. ‘Is the fire lit? Would you like a cuppa and something to eat?’
‘Sure. We’ll be finished here soon. Didn’t want you coming in, really, till we’d lit the candles.’
‘We’ll go out again.’ She grabbed Vivien’s hand and dragged her away to go and prepare food.
When George shouted they went back into the parlour.
Mike had turned off the gas mantle and the mellow glow of the tiny candles glistened
on tinsel. For a moment Flora felt like a child again, recalling a Christmas before her mother had taken to her bed and her father had managed to get home from sea. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed, hugging Mike’s arm. ‘Thanks.’
‘Are some of the presents for me?’ asked Vivien, working her way round the tree. There were some gifts tied to the tree that had not been wrapped – a trumpet, a small jigsaw, crayons, a mouth organ, a bottle of ‘Evening in Paris’ scent and a paper fan, to name a few.
‘Sure are.’ Mike drawled. ‘And two special ones for your Aunt Flora, that aren’t to be opened till Christmas.’
‘You are a love,’ said Flora, anticipating the pleasure of opening presents on Christmas morning. There had been nothing the last few years. ‘I wish I could give you more than I’ve got.’
He murmured. ‘You know the best present you could give me.’
She squeezed his arm. It seemed so ungrateful not to say yes when he set out to please her so much. ‘You tempt me to say to hell with everything.’ Her voice was low. ‘But I can’t, Mike. The problems are still there.’
‘You are one hell of a stubborn lady, Flo.’ His soft tone did not quite conceal his impatience. ‘But then I always knew that – and that I couldn’t buy you.’
‘It’s not that I’m stubborn.’ Her voice was as quiet as his. ‘But I made it clear from the beginning how it was. And I did ask you not to push it.’
‘Sure you did.’ His face was taut as he freed his arm from her hold. ‘Let’s go and have tea.’ He moved nearer to the children, his expression lightening. ‘How about the movies later, kids?’ he said cheerfully.
‘Yeah!’ said Vivien and George in unison.
Flora knew that she had hurt him and hated doing so because it created a barrier between them.
It could have been like old times in the picture house except Flora did not have to keep removing Mike’s arm from about her shoulder. His aloofness disturbed her even as it annoyed and it was difficult concentrating on the screen. It was a relief when the main film finished and it was time to go.
They jostled their way outside with the crowd, only to be met by a seemingly solid grey wall of fog which the adults regarded with dismay.
‘Damn!’ exclaimed Mike savagely. ‘I’ll never find my way back to base tonight.’
‘You’ll have to stay with us,’ said Vivien, squeezing his hand. ‘You can have my room. Can’t he, Aunty Flo?’
‘He’ll have to, I suppose,’ said Flora calmly, the fog muffling her voice. ‘Unless he’d like to walk all the way to Warrington.’
‘Nothing I’d like better,’ rasped Mike. ‘Which is south?’
‘You’d get lost,’ cried Vivien anxiously. ‘He couldn’t do it, could he, Aunty Flo?’
‘Men think they can do anything,’ responded Flora promptly, still feeling a little put out by Mike’s behaviour. She pulled the collar of her coat up, burying her chin into it. ‘They think they’re God’s gift to womankind, and that we can’t resist them.’
‘It’s the other way around,’ said Mike with emphasis, glancing in her direction. ‘Women think we’re made of clockwork and they can wind us up and point us where they want us to go.’
She pulled a face. ‘Men treat women either like dolls or slaves. They like us to pretty ourselves up for them and kowtow to their every need.’
There was the slightest pause, and Vivien’s and George’s heads slewed round in Mike’s direction. They didn’t have long to wait. ‘Eve was made for Adam. So women are subordinate to men. But most of them, these days, don’t know their place. They dress like men; they think they’re as good as men.’
‘Those women aren’t setting their sights high enough,’ said Flora, frowning slightly and seaching with her fingers for the garden wall that should have been on her right. She stopped abruptly. ‘I think we’re lost. It’s your fault.’
‘How can it be my fault?’ demanded Mike, his face looming close in the fog. ‘You’re the one who lives round here. I’m only a visitor.’
‘Typical male excuse,’ muttered Flora, looking away from him and attempting to pierce the darkness ahead with narrowed vision. ‘We took the left turning and there was a garden wall on my left. It’s gone.’
‘It’s come to an end, probably.’
‘There’s another wall after that.’
‘You’re right,’ murmured Mike, frowning. He stamped his feet and she jumped.
‘What are you doing?’ Her voice was vexed. ‘This is no time for a clog dance.’
‘Cobbles,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘We’ve wandered into the middle of the road,’ he said slowly and distinctly. ‘That’s why there’s no wall, and if you look ahead you’ll see a faint glow from a lamp to the left.’
‘All right, I can see it.’ Her voice had lightened. ‘Let’s head for home.’
She started to walk more briskly, Mike and George easily keeping up with her. Vivien was dragged along at a run, until Mike paused to lift her up on to his shoulders.
They were home in no time, and after hot drinks George and Vivien went up to bed.
Mike and Flora were unusually silent as they sat in separate chairs, pulled close to the fire.
What now? thought Flora. Who makes the first move towards the other or to bed? One of us has to do something! Or are we going to sit here all night expecting the other to move? She was tired yet wide-awake at the same time. The back of her neck was stiff and aching, and she would have enjoyed Mike massaging it. Damn! She hated being at outs with him.
She drained her cup to the dregs. ‘I’m going to bed.’ Her voice sounded so jolly it disgusted her. This was what living a lie was. ‘You know where to find Viv’s room.’ Her eyes avoided his.
‘You’ll be waiting for me there?’ he drawled.
‘What?’ She could not resist looking at him.
He pulled a face. ‘You were right. I was wrong. You told me how it was and I decided to try and overrule you. Before we acted a bit like kids, but it’s time to kiss and make up, I reckon.’
‘To what end? Nothing’s changed,’ she said slowly, toying with a button on her cardigan.
‘I don’t like being out of friends,’ he said ruefully, putting down his cup.
Warmth filtered through her and she smiled. ‘Give me your little finger.’
‘Why?’ He stared at her, uncomprehendingly.
‘Just do as you’re told.’
He shook his head slowly but held out his right hand with the little finger cocked. She fastened her finger around his. ‘Best friends?’
‘Best friends.’ He grinned.
‘Shake on it,’ she ordered. They shook hands and then he pulled her into his arms.
They rose before dawn from the cramped single bed and had breakfast together. The fog had dispersed before George and Vivien woke, and Flora had to leave for work. Mike and Flora left by the back door.
‘I don’t know when I’ll see you again,’ he said as they came to a halt by the tram stop into town. ‘It’s frantic at the base, trying to maintain the planes at the rate they need them. It mightn’t be until the New Year.’
‘Come when you can.’ She thrust a small parcel at him, a tiny crease between her brows. ‘Happy Christmas, Mike.’ Stretching up, she kissed him then walked away, not looking back.
Christmas came, bringing present opening time in the parlour where a fire had been lit for the occasion. The children tore the paper from Mike’s presents to reveal a leather football for George, as well as a baseball bat. His expression was thoughtful as he said, ‘It’ll do for rounders, I suppose.’ And picking up the ball he kicked it across the room before Flora could stop him.
‘I’ve got a doll and a book,’ cried Vivien, her face alight with pleasure as she hugged the doll to her. Its eyes opened and closed and it had long eyelashes. Flora could not help thinking of Rosie, and remembered that she had not visited the family grave and must do so soon.
‘What’s you
rs?’ Vivien’s hands reached for Flora’s presents and handed them to her. One was large and square.
Flora opened the box to reveal cookies, chocolates, tins of peaches, salmon and spam. There were red, luscious-looking apples, nuts and popcorn, a bottle of champagne and several brown containers of ginger ale.
George spared a moment to look at the goodies and reached for the champagne. He let out a low whistle. ‘Good ol’ Mike. Can I have a taste?’
‘Not now, you can’t!’ Flora snatched the bottle back and clutched it to her chest. ‘Champagne’s only for special occasions.’
‘Christmas is special,’ he countered. ‘Can we have it with our dinner?’
‘Champagne and rabbit stew!’ A smile lit her face. ‘You’ll have ginger ale and like it. I’m saving that champagne.’
He shrugged and went back to improving his footwork.
Flora closed the box and reached for her other gift, hesitating as she fingered it once more.
‘Open it,’ said Vivien eagerly.
The green tissue paper fell apart and the girl gave a loud ‘Oooh!’ as a lemon satin and cream lace négligée was revealed. There was a note. “Wear it for me on our wedding night.” Of course he had written it before their last meeting, thought Flora, so she could not be cross with him. She could not have been anyway for she had never had anything so luxurious in her life. Her cheeks colouring, she bundled the beautiful garments in their tissue paper and got up from her knees. ‘It’s time I checked that rabbit,’ she said hurriedly, and left the parlour with both presents.
Her father arrived for dinner, dressed in his best suit and with a starched white collar cutting his neck. He presented George with a half crown; Vivien received a shilling. There was a china teapot patterned with dark crimson roses for Flora. She recognised it as having belonged to her mother. ‘I noticed your teapot was chipped, girl,’ he muttered, ‘and you won’t get one better than that in the shops today.’
She agreed and gave him the baccy she had bought. She was determined to make the best of the day despite Mike’s absence. At least she wasn’t at work and there was plenty of food to eat.