War Widow

by June Francis

  ‘Lovely,’ agreed Flora, smiling up at her. ‘When will you be leaving for your honeymoon?’

  ‘Soon. We’re going to Blackpool – staying in a posh hotel. It should be fun. There’ll be music, dancing.’ Hilda’s blue eyes sparkled. ‘You’ll have to come and wave us off. A taxi’s coming at five o’clock. In the meantime I’ll go and check that everybody’s enjoying themselves.’ She turned her attention momentarily on Stephen. ‘Don’t let her get away from you this time. She needs an upright, strong chap like you to keep her out of the hands of the riff raff of the new world,’ she said with a mischievous twinkle. ‘Flo’s so easily led astray.’ She fluttered away, a mothlike creature, thought Flora, attracted to the bright lights.

  ‘Upright,’ muttered Stephen. ‘She makes me sound stuffy.’ He tossed back his sherry in one go. ‘What’s she mean about the riff raff of the new world?’

  ‘One of our Hilda’s jokes,’ murmured Flora, not prepared to tell him about Mike being a Yank.

  ‘Oh!’ He frowned. ‘I’ll take you home if you like. I’ve got the car.’

  ‘You’ll have to make room for Viv and George as well?’

  He nodded. ‘D’you want to go now?’

  Flora shook her head. ‘I’d like to see my sister off first.’ He agreed and began to talk about how the firm was expanding.

  It was less than an hour later when they all trooped downstairs and spilled out on to the pavement. Kevin and Hilda followed a couple of minutes later, the bride now clad in an airforce blue coat and matching hat with a wide brim. She carried her bouquet of white carnations and red roses.

  She stood on the running board of the taxi. ‘Who’s going to be next?’ she cried, her face alight.

  ‘Me!’ called a couple of girls. Hilda laughed, her eyes scanned the group, and the next moment the bouquet soared into the air in Flora’s direction. Instinctively as it plummetted towards her she caught it.

  ‘Well held!’ cried Hilda, half in, half out of the taxi. ‘I’ll expect an invite, Flo.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Kevin, his handsome face impatient as he dragged on her sleeve. Hilda waved and the next moment they were gone.

  The group began to disperse except for those who were staying behind to clear up. Flora had not been asked to help so did not like to offer. Stephen was at her elbow. ‘Are you ready, Floss?’

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ she murmured, looking round for George who did not look too pleased when he was told who was taking them home. He brightened up however when Stephen said he would not come into the house as he wanted to pop into work and check something.

  Sunday morning was quiet and uneventful in comparison, and Flora decided that she would go to the cemetery and put Hilda’s flowers on the family grave while Vivien and George were at Sunday School. She was just walking down the step when Mike came up the street.

  ‘Here comes the bride,’ he drawled, pushing his cap to the back of his head.

  Flora smiled faintly. ‘I’m going the cemetery, and I’ve got to go now to be back for the kids.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said resignedly. ‘How’s things been with you? How was Christmas?’

  ‘Fine.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘Thanks for the presents.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘I haven’t opened the champagne.’ She pulled on his arm. ‘Let’s go up the entry. Mrs Jones has probably got her spyglass out.’ She was feeling nervous and quickly changed the subject. ‘Hilda got married yesterday. She looked lovely. It all went off very well.’

  ‘Good!’ he exclaimed, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her sidelong. ‘Is there something new about Mrs Jones spying on people?’

  Flora shrugged. ‘Mrs Murphy’s had words with me.’ She tried to sound amused. ‘You and me are big news. A clean living Catholic boy like you going out with a tarty piece like me! I’m leading you astray.’

  He grimaced. ‘You’re hurt.’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘George could get to realise what’s going on between us and I don’t want that.’

  He squeezed her hand against his side. ‘You know the answer. Make an honest man of me.’

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  ‘There’s always a way round things, Flora,’ he said roughly.

  ‘So you say.’ She frowned. ‘I didn’t want to go straight at this as soon as I saw you. Where’ve you been the last couple of weeks?’

  ‘You’ve missed me?’

  ‘Do you need to ask that?’ He was silent and suddenly she thought, maybe it was better that he doubted her love. The thought was painful. She took a deep breath. ‘Mike, I can’t go on as we are – fornicating. I went to church yesterday and waited for the thunderbolt. I felt terrible. I’ve lost people’s respect and I don’t like it. I’ve always done the proper thing before.’

  ‘So what do we do if you won’t marry me?’ His voice was deep and intense. ‘Keep two feet between us on the sofa and shake hands at the door?’

  ‘We could try,’ she said firmly, avoiding looking at him and taking her hand out of his arm.

  He stopped and stared at her. ‘You mean it!’

  ‘Of course I mean it. You don’t think I say that sort of thing for fun!’

  He swore softly and carried on walking so fast that she had to run to keep up with him. They came to the main road. ‘I know it’s hard on you,’ she said.

  ‘Only on me?’ He laughed. ‘You’re kidding yourself if you think it’ll only be me that’ll suffer.’

  She flushed. ‘I know. But I’ve done without before. There’s more to life than – than –’

  ‘Sex!’ he yelled.

  Several people looked in their direction and Flora wished herself anywhere but where she was. ‘I could kill you,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Here’s the tram and I’m getting on it. You can do what you like.’ At the moment she did not care what he did.

  He followed her on to the tram but instead of sitting next to her, he sat on the seat behind. Three stops later he hissed against her ear, ‘It’s impossible, Flo. The man-woman thing has to be going somewhere. That’s progress. We can’t just have a platonic friendship now.’

  ‘You’d rather we stopped seeing each other?’ Her voice was low. ‘I can’t see any other way out of this, Mike.’

  ‘You refuse to see any other way,’ he whispered. ‘Marry me.’

  ‘Stop saying that! I’ve told you I can’t.’

  ‘Won’t.’

  Flora got up and sat on another seat. A few minutes later Mike moved into the place beside her. ‘How far is this cemetery anyway?’ he said gloomily.

  ‘Not far.’ They sat silently until Stanley Park came into view, and then Flora got up. Mike followed suit, walking a little behind her until she crossed the road. They entered the cemetery and Flora could feel the tension building up inside her. It was an impossible situation. She started when Mike spoke. ‘Sweet Jesus, some of these died young.’

  ‘Yes.’ She read the inscription on the pink and white marble gravestone he was staring at and then walked on. ‘You know what they say – only the good die young.’

  ‘We should live forever then,’ murmured Mike wickedly, before adding quietly, ‘“Father, I have sinned and fallen short –”’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said with a passion that took them both by surprise. ‘The wages of sin are death! Surely you know that one. I’m worked up about it all, Mike. I don’t need reminding I’ve broken the rules.’ Her fingers twisted agitatedly among the flowers in the bouquet.

  He stared at her, a certain rigidity about his mouth. ‘I would have married you from the word go. If you’d agreed then you wouldn’t be torturing yourself like this. It makes me wonder how you ever came to suggest our making love that first time.’

  ‘I thought I would never see you again,’ she whispered, coming to a halt in front of the family plot. Resting on one knee, she removed the fading Christmas wreath. Without speaking she fetched water and placed the flowers in a cont
ainer. She stayed there a while longer, gazing down at the grave, while Mike stood watching her.

  Neither of them spoke till they moved away. ‘If you loved me,’ he said in a strong voice, ‘you’d marry me. I respect your reasons yet I wonder why you aren’t prepared to make sacrifices for me.’

  She glanced at him. ‘If I loved you. What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think I’d have gone to bed with you if I didn’t?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said with great deliberation. ‘Perhaps you only wanted me for one thing.’

  Colour flooded her face. ‘You’re suggesting that I’ve used you for sex,’ she said tight-lipped. ‘Well, I’ll ask you this, Mike – would my behaviour be any worse than yours if I had? I’ve only ever been with Tom and you. How many women have you had?’

  ‘That’s in the past,’ he said harshly. ‘We’re talking about now.’

  ‘So we are!’ Her hazel eyes flashed green. ‘So how can you say I want you for your body when I’m suggesting a no strings friendship? And why is it you’ve talked about me making sacrifices?’

  ‘Okay!’ He held up a hand. ‘You’ve made your point about my body. It seems you don’t want it. But the other thing – a woman’s always lived where her man does.’

  ‘Oh yeah!’ She laughed bitterly. ‘What you’re asking me to do is to say to hell with my father – to hell with my son’s ambitions to play football for Liverpool – to hell with my faith – to hell with coming here and tending my daughter’s grave. Who would do that if I wasn’t here?’ she asked in a furious voice.

  ‘Oh, come on, Flora, I’m not saying it like that.’ He kicked up a cloud of gravel. ‘I admire you for wanting to do what’s right but I want you as my wife. There would be gains, Flora, for you. A whole new life. A better life!’

  ‘In America,’ she said grimly.

  ‘In America,’ he reiterated.

  ‘I won’t do it,’ she said, digging her hands deep into the pockets of her mustard and brown coat. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Won’t,’ he retorted harshly. ‘You had it right the first time.’ There was a silence.

  ‘Then it’s goodbye,’ said Mike. ‘We can’t go on the way we are and we can’t just be friends. I can’t anyway. It’s all or nothing, Flora.’

  She felt sick inside. ‘Then it’s nothing,’ she whispered.

  They stared at each other and there seemed a peculiar stillness in the air.

  ‘I’ll see you home,’ he said quietly.

  She tilted her chin. ‘You don’t have to. I know the way.’

  ‘I’ll see you home.’ His voice was a little louder.

  ‘Mike, I’m not a child,’ she snapped. ‘Let’s finish it here and now. It had to come sooner or later.’ She thrust out a hand.

  He took it and held it so long that she had to snatch it back. Then she turned and walked away.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next few days were difficult for Flora and the nights even harder. She did not kid herself that it was going to be any easier getting over Mike this time than it had been three years ago. She kept half-expecting to find him waiting on her doorstep when she arrived home but he was never there.

  Hilda and Kevin came back from their honeymoon and a couple of days later, to Flora’s surprise, her sister announced that she was going to work part time in the shop. ‘It’s Kevin’s idea,’ said Hilda brightly, breathing on her painted nails and polishing them on the overall she had donned. ‘The Brown women, apparently, have always helped in the shop. It’s a real family business.’

  ‘I can understand that,’murmured Flora, wrapping a loaf in tissue paper for a customer. ‘Not that I’ve ever seen any sign of his family in here.’

  ‘You know what I mean, Flo.’ Hilda pulled a face. ‘The only problem is that Kev expects me to get up with him at some ungodly hour and cook his breakfast, and then help him in the back.’

  ‘You can cook, can you?’ said Flora drily. ‘That’s something new. Learned how in Paris, I suppose.’

  ‘Very funny.’ Hilda yawned as delicately as a cat. ‘But making toast isn’t that difficult – as long as you watch it. The trouble is I forgot about it because I was that tired.’ She frowned and lowered her voice. ‘The toast was only a bit black, but you’d think I’d committed all of the seven deadly sins. Anyway I got it right the next time so that was all right.’

  Flora could not help being amused. ‘What are you going to do for tea?’

  Hilda wrinkled her nose. ‘I can open a can – and boil some potatoes. There can’t be anything hard about that.’

  Flora raised her eyebrows. ‘As long as you don’t forget about them.’

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ said Hilda, moving away as Kevin came into the shop. She addressed the next customer cheerfully. ‘What is it you want, mate?’

  The customer responded with a smiling alacrity and Flora was aware that Kevin watched his wife for several minutes before shifting his attention to her. He gave her the briefest of unsmiling nods then went back into the bakeroom. She remembered her former resolution to find another job – but maybe she would give it a few more days. It would be interesting to see how her sister dealt with her husband and being a part-time housewife and shop assistant.

  ‘Flo! How d’you make rice pudding?’ Hilda whispered furtively. It was a couple of days later and Flora and Maggie were already at work when Hilda came into the shop.

  ‘Lucky you, having rice to make a pudding with,’ said Flora, smiling.

  ‘Aren’t I just?’ said Hilda impatiently. ‘I don’t know what he wants rice pudding for when we’re surrounded by jam tarts and cakes. But he’s bought a bag of the stuff and I suppose I’ll at least have to have a go.’

  ‘Yer can get sick of cake if yer lookin’ at it all day,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I didn’t ask you,’ snapped Hilda, scowling as she watched Maggie opening the till.

  The older woman reddened. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Brown.’

  Flora nudged Hilda. ‘Don’t be so sharp with her. She’s got a point, you know.’

  Hilda tapped her foot on the floor. ‘I didn’t ask you, Flo, to give me lessons on how to handle the staff. Now are you going to tell me about this rice pudding or not?’

  ‘If you keep a civil tongue in your head,’ said Flora, her mouth tightening slightly.

  ‘Oh, all right!’ Hilda frowned. ‘It’s just this cooking lark. I always thought it was easy.’

  ‘It is, once you get a bit of practice.’ Some of Flora’s irritation evaporated. ‘Come on, Hilda. It’s not that hard. An ovenproof dish – two tablespoons of rice, sugar, a knob of butter, a sprinkling of grated nutmeg, and a pint of milk or water, depending on what you can afford. You just bung them all together and in the oven on a low heat for a couple of hours.’

  ‘It sounds simple enough,’ said Hilda cautiously, nodding her head slowly. ‘Thanks, Flo.’ She breathed out with relief. ‘You will bring Viv on Saturday, won’t you?’ Flora nodded and got on with her work.

  That evening Stephen called. ‘I’ve come to see if you’ve made up your mind about coming back to the firm,’ he said, accepting the cup of tea she offered. ‘Only Molly’s left me high and dry and I have to get somebody in a hurry.’

  Flora was surprised. ‘It’s not like Molly to let people down.’

  ‘We had a tiff,’ he said shortly and pursed his lips. ‘She was always interfering and putting in her tupenny ha’penny worth. You know the way she is.’

  Flora thought it wiser to say nothing and for a moment she hesitated before saying, ‘When would you want me to start? You say you want someone in a hurry but I’d have to serve my notice.’

  ‘I understand that.’ His face brightened. ‘You’ll come then, Floss?’

  ‘Yes. If we can agree that I only work till four everyday and no Saturdays,’ she said decisively, feeling certain that there could be a thousand irritations with her sister if she stayed in the bakery.

  ‘No problem. I need you.’ He paused then a
dded, ‘Are you still seeing that Mike fella?’

  ‘No,’ she said shortly.

  He smiled. ‘That’s all right then.’

  Flora felt sure she knew what he meant and was uneasy. He began to talk about how business had really taken off, Hilda’s wedding, and the latest film he had seen.

  Vivien came in and made a fuss of him. Fortunately he left before George came home and disturbed the harmony of a fairly pleasant evening. All Flora had to do now was break the news of her departure to Kevin and Hilda, something she looked forward to with mixed feelings.

  ‘You’re giving notice! Why?’ demanded Kevin, his face twisted with annoyance. ‘Is it more money you want? Out with it if it is!’

  ‘Money’s only part of it,’ said Flora, standing upright and composed in front of him in the untidy bakeroom. ‘It’s the hours mainly. I don’t like working Saturdays.’

  ‘That could be worked round.’ He took off his cap and threw it on the table and lit a cigarette. ‘Now that Hilda’s working here, she could do Saturdays for you.’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Flora. ‘I’m going back to my old job.’

  ‘In the printing?’ He drew deeply on his cigarette, leaning against the table. ‘For that Stephen Martin your Hilda invited to the wedding?’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a brief silence and he exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘Does he know about your Yank?’

  Flora’s eyelashes flickered. ‘It’s none of your business.’

  ‘He’s packed you in, has he?’ he said with a slight smile.

  ‘Have you finished poking your nose into my affairs, Mr Brown?’ she said, more calmly than she felt. ‘I’ll get on with work if you have.’

  He nodded and shooed her away with both arms.

  Flora went into the shop carrying a tray of tin loaves, only to be brought up short by Hilda stopping in front of her. ‘Why were you so long in the back with Kev?’ Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

  Flora smiled sweetly. ‘I was giving in my notice. So now if you’ll get out of my way? This bread’s heavy.’

  ‘Your notice! Why?’ Hilda sounded bewildered. ‘Is it working with me? I know we don’t always see eye to eye –’