by June Francis
It did to Flora but she said nothing, only watching as two girls dressed as William of Orange and his queen Mary, with their hair in long ringlets, led a procession of men in uniform, and women and children in peach satin dresses. Suddenly they burst into song and so did some of the people on the pavement. ‘Sons of the sea, and we’re all British Boys, Sailing the ocean …’
There was a sudden loud ‘Coo hee!’ a few feet away from Flora and Hilda, and the next moment they saw a woman dance into the road beside the marching men. She had her black skirts high revealing a pair of emerald green knickers.
A giggle burst from Flora, and Hilda’s face lit up. ‘If your mother comes from Ireland,’ they sang.
The woman, who looked about forty, slanted them a roguish look before skipping along in an attempt to keep pace with the men who after hurried glances, acted as if she were not there.
Perhaps its was being ignored by them that drove her to act in a foolhardy fashion because she attempted to weave a dancing step between the men and caused several to stumble.
An angry murmur rippled through the ranks to be echoed in parts of the crowd. The intruder was seized by one of the marching women. A struggle began and both women were soon on the ground. Hair was being pulled, names called. Another peach-dressed woman joined the tussle. The green knickers seemed destined to be dragged in the gutter to hoots of derision. Then a policeman on a horse came charging up. Stones were thrown and the next minute there was a free for all as Orange and Green sides were taken.
‘Let’s get Viv out of here,’ said Flora. Hilda nodded and without any further ado they linked arms and managed to force their way out of the crowd.
The two sisters paused to straighten their hats on the other side of the road. ‘That was fun till it got nasty,’ said Flora.
Hilda nodded. ‘Orange and Green – they’re just opposing sides in a game. Like Everton and Liverpool football teams.’
‘And like football fans they have their heroes,’ muttered Flora moodily. ‘William of Orange! He wasn’t even British. He crossed the Boyne in Ireland and defeated the Catholics. Now we’re enemies because of some battle hundreds of years ago.’
‘What’s up with you?’ said Hilda. ‘We’ve always known that.’
‘Yes, and it’s daft. Christians are supposed to love each other.’
‘Hmmm! Like green knickers and peach frock. It’ll take some doing,’ said Hilda. ‘I wonder if she was drunk.’
‘It took guts.’ Flora suddenly smiled. ‘She was probably tipsy. People do the daftest things when they drink.’
Hilda solemnly agreed. ‘Where are you going now?’
‘Might as well go the park and find Father there.’
Hilda pulled a face. ‘I’ll see you then. I’d better go home and see how his Lordship is. He just might enjoy the joke.’
Flora did not know exactly why but she was certain in that moment that the shadow on her sister’s face was a bruise, and the reason for her wearing so much make-up. ‘Take care of yourself,’ she said, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her sister’s cheek.
Hilda drew back, a slightly disdainful smile tugging at her mouth. ‘What’s up with you, little sister? I can take care of myself, don’t you worry.’ And with those parting words she walked away.
Flora stood a moment, staring after her. Then she took Vivien’s hand and they went towards the park.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Did you like the house?’
‘What?’ Flora summoned her wandering attention and replied to Stephen as they walked home from the pictures.
‘My uncle’s house.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘It would do us for now, Floss.’ His deep blue eyes were warm with confidence. ‘The furniture’s a bit old-fashioned but it’s good stuff. Not like what they’re making these days. Utility! I get sick of hearing that word.’
‘I agree with you about the furniture,’ she murmured. ‘But I haven’t said I’ll marry you yet, Steve.’
‘You will.’ He smiled. ‘You’re a sensible woman, Floss. Look what I can give you. And things’ll get better.’
‘I can’t be bought,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’m fond of you but I don’t love you.’
He frowned. ‘Tom’s been dead five years.’ He fingered the scar near his eye. ‘You can’t still be carrying a torch for him.’
‘I’m not! Forget Tom, Steve. It’s just that I don’t want to be rushed.’
He smiled. ‘All right, I understand that,’ he said playfully. ‘But I’m not giving up. I had a letter from France from a mate of mine. He married a French girl he met in Caen. Suggested I might go over and visit them sometime. It wouldn’t be a bad idea.’ He smiled at her. ‘I thought perhaps we could go there for our honeymoon.’
Flora stared at him. ‘When were you thinking of going?’ Her voice was low and firmly under control despite the fact that her stomach was twisting itself into a reef knot.
‘I think August would be the right time.’
‘It’s too soon!’ The words burst out of her despite the control she thought she had over herself. ‘And the children will be home from school. I couldn’t possibly leave them with Father for a week or more during the school holidays.’
Stephen’s mouth tightened. ‘George is old enough now not to be any trouble to your father. He definitely seems to have more sense than he used to. And I don’t see why your Hilda can’t have the looking after of Viv. She’s a nice kid but she’s Hilda’s after all. It’s a ridiculous situation when your sister’s got a husband of her own, who can afford to keep them both, and you’re keeping her kid!’
Flora was tempted to say, ‘But she’s your brother’s child and your responsibility in a way.’ She did not, partly because she was not completely convinced that Jimmy was Viv’s father. She still half believed that Vivien could be Tom’s child. She also realised that Stephen might use the information as a lever to hurry her into marrying him. Time! She needed more time to get over Mike, ‘I love Viv,’ she said quietly. ‘In a way she’s taken Rosie’s place in the family. I don’t know what I would have done without her in those months after I lost Rosie.’
‘I can understand that.’ Stephen patted her hand. ‘But you spend too much time worrying about others. You let people play on your good nature, Floss. Now you must get your priorities right and think of yourself, and us getting married.’
‘I wasn’t brought up to put myself first,’ she murmured, irritated, feeling he was talking down to her.
‘Of course you weren’t. Your Aunt Beattie did a much better job on you than she did on your Hilda. Selfish, that’s your sister! She always did like her own way. Wayward, Mam called her.’
Flora stared straight ahead, glad that the bottom of her street was in sight. ‘She’s my sister and marriage seems to be quietening her down so if you’ll drop the subject, Steve, I’d be glad. You don’t mind if I don’t ask you in, do you? But I’ve got a splitting headache and want to get to bed as soon as I can.’ She added wickedly, ‘Besides, the neighbours do talk and I have my reputation to think about.’
‘You’re kidding me.’ He shook his head at her. ‘Your father’s in your house. And besides the neighbours know me. Probably guessed that we’ll be getting married.’
‘Probably,’ she said lightly. ‘But let’s keep them guessing, shall we?’ She pulled her hand from his. ‘Goodnight, Steve, see you tomorrow.’ And before he could claim a goodnight kiss she walked swiftly up the street, praying that she was not going to have marriage and a honeymoon in France stuffed down her throat every time she saw him from now on.
Fortunately next day he was out on business. She was relieved, and found herself daydreaming about Mike.
He was still in her thoughts as she lit the fire and put a liver casserole in the oven that evening. On impulse she went over to the sideboard and took out the négligée he had bought her. What would Stephen say if he knew she had received such a gift? She rubbed the silky material against her cheek. Perhaps
she would never get to wear it? It wouldn’t be right to put it on for Stephen. Suddenly depressed she placed it back in its tissue paper and in the cupboard. Her hands felt the hard outline of the bottle of champagne. It seemed a waste not to drink it and she was in need of cheering up, but somehow it did not seem right to drink alone. She toyed with its foiled top, then put it in her shopping bag.
Brendan was sleeping in his pram on the step outside the Murphys’ so Flora knew that Carmel was in. Besides the front door was ajar. She knocked and called up the lobby.
The next moment Carmel popped her head out of the kitchen doorway. ‘Come in, Flo girl. My sister Mary’s here. She was in the Wrens during the war but I think you’ve met, haven’t you?’
‘I don’t want to intrude,’ said Flora, suddenly thinking that her idea was crazy.
Carmel smiled. ‘Don’t be an idjit now. Come on in.’
Flora did as she was told, and smiled at Mary. She was an attractive girl with a heart-shaped, merry face, and short black curly hair. She was wearing the new longer look, having lengthened a shorter frock with a different piece of material. The effect was much more feminine than any frock Flora had seen for a long time. They talked about the weather before moving on to the local gossip. Then there was a lull in the conversation when Brendan woke and Carmel brought him in to put him to the breast. Flora thought it an appropriate time to bring out the bottle of champagne. Carmel’s and Mary’s eyes fixed on it and Flora cleared her throat. ‘I was thinking’, she said, ‘that I never got round to wetting the baby’s head. And I’ve just found this bottle of champagne in my sideboard cupboard.’
Mary, much younger than Carmel, giggled. ‘Just like that. D’you have any leprechauns in your house?’
Flora smiled, and her spirits lightened. ‘Well, I got it from someone who had a touch of Irish in him.’ She tore the foil off the bottle.
‘Mike,’ said Carmel, nudging her sister. ‘I’ve told you about him.’
‘Ah!’ Mary’s brown eyes twinkled. ‘The charmer. I wish I’d met him if he hands out bottles of champagne.’
‘He’d do you more good than that Protestant you’ve got yourself engaged to,’ said Carmel, frowning her down.
Mary wriggled her shoulders uncomfortably. ‘Reggie’s a good man and he’s prepared to go my way. He says I’ll have the rearing of the kids, and it’s up to me how I bring them up. So don’t let’s be having a row in front of Flo.’
‘No, let’s not,’ said Flora, her gaze going from one to the other as she tossed the wire into the hearth and began to ease out the cork as she had seen it done in films. The popping sound the cork made as it shot out and hit the wall sounded loud in the small room and somehow filled her with excitement.
‘Glasses, quick!’ she cried to Carmel.
‘Two beer mugs is all we’ve got,’ said the older woman, panicking slightly as Flora tried to stop the fizzing wine with her thumb.
‘Here!’ said Mary, looping her finger through three cups and thrusting them beneath the bottle. Flora filled them to the brim.
‘What shall we drink to?’ said Mary, raising her cup.
‘To Brendan,’ said Flora. They all drank.
‘Another toast,’ said Carmel. ‘To your wedding, Mary. That it’ll go off without a hitch.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be like all weddings. His and hers and never the twain shall meet.’ The level of the champagne in the cups dropped.
‘The bubbles tickle.’ Mary rubbed her nose, smiling. ‘Another toast – everything should be done in threes. Let’s drink to this Mike.’
‘To be sure,’ said Flora, whose own accent had taken on a definite Irish lilt, ‘we wouldn’t be drinking at all, at all, if it wurn’t fur dear ol’ Mike.’
‘To Mike,’ said Mary. ‘Wherever he may be. Health, wealth and happiness.’
They all drank, but to Flora it suddenly didn’t seem such a good idea after all. Did she really want Mike to be happy without her? Perhaps he’d found himself another girl, an all American girl, just as she had got Stephen. She blinked back unexpected tears and emptied the remains of the champagne into their cups.
The talk turned to weddings and which one of the uncles in the Murphy family could drink the rest under the table. The children came home from school and Flora knew she should be heading home. She got up, only to have Mary insist that she have a cup of tea before she went.
‘Tea and sympathy,’ said Mary, smiling gravely. ‘You looked sad before, Flo. What’s worrying you?’
‘Nothing.’ She peered into her tea cup. ‘I wish I could see into the future.’
Mary stared at her, then smiled and took her cup, gazing down at the tea leaves. ‘Let us see what the future holds,’ she said in a deep voice.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Flora, trying to take the cup back. ‘I was only joking! I don’t believe in such things. And besides you shouldn’t try to find out – it might be something awful.’
Mary snatched the cup out of her reach and moved back. ‘I can’t promise you a tall dark handsome stranger, but there’s definitely going to be changes in your life. There is a man and water. Are you thinking about taking a trip over the water?’
Flora stared at her and laughed shortly. ‘Perhaps I’m going on the ferry across the Mersey.’
Mary shook her dark curls at her. ‘Don’t mock, Flo. There’s definitely a ship in the leaves.’
‘Stranded, is it?’ Then the laughter died in her face. ‘France. Maybe I’ll go there with Stephen after all,’ she said slowly.
‘Who’s Stephen?’ Mary looked at her sister for the information.
‘The man in Flo’s life now. A war hero, with a business an’ a house with a big garden an’ a bathroom.’ She addressed Flora. ‘Viv told our Kathleen about the house. She’s quite taken with it.’
‘Well, there you are then,’ said Mary, winking at Flora. ‘The leaves never lie.’
‘I don’t know how you can see a ship in the tea leaves,’ said Flora, picking up the empty bottle in a rebellious mood. ‘I think we’re all a bit tipsy, but thanks for telling me about going on a journey. It sounds familiar.’
‘Pleasure,’ said Mary, smiling. ‘Bring us a stick of rock from Paris.’
Flora fluttered her fingers in their direction and left, deep in thought. Men in boats … It was stupid! But again she experienced that trapped feeling, a sense of time running out. She had no wish to go to France and she would tell Stephen so. Why should some tea leaves make her mind up for her?
Still in a decisive mood she told Stephen that she did not ever wish to go to France the next time they went for a walk in Sefton Park with Vivien.
‘What’s brought this on?’ he said in a bewildered voice. ‘I’m willing to postpone going, Floss, till after we get married.’ They were standing by the bronze statue of Peter Pan.
‘You might have to wait a long time,’ she retorted. ‘As long as this fella waited to grow up.’
‘I don’t think you want to marry me at all,’ he said moodily.
‘I haven’t said that,’ she murmured, not wanting to hurt him too much all at once. ‘I don’t feel it’s right to talk marriage so soon after your uncle’s died. And besides, George needs more time to get used to the idea.’
‘George!’ He scowled. ‘You and that son of yours. I’ve a good mind to go to France on my own.’
Her spirits lifted. ‘Do,’ she responded with a smile. ‘You could probably do with the break, and will enjoy being with your mate better without me.’
He muttered agreement, adding, ‘Perhaps you’ll miss me.’
‘I probably will.’ She kissed his cheek.
He went the last two weeks in August and Flora relaxed and caught up on all the jobs that hadn’t been done for a long time, such as washing paintwork, clearing out cupboards and tidying her small garden.
Vivien came in one evening with the news that there was a fair in the park.
George, whom Flora was trying to ease into sitting f
or the thirteen plus, looked up from his book. ‘A fair?’ He smiled. ‘That’d be fun.’
‘The Murphys are going,’ said Vivien, jiggling up and down, as if unable to keep still. ‘I know we have to be careful with money, but we don’t have to go on anything. Just being there in the dark is exciting.’
‘I’ve got some money,’ said George, slamming the book shut. Flora and Vivien stared at him. He raised his thick tawny eyebrows. ‘You don’t have to look at me like I’ve robbed the Bank of England. I collected jam jars through the holidays and took them to the rag yard. I was saving up for something, but –’
‘Say no more.’ Flora forced herself to her feet. ‘If you’re prepared to part with your lolly, I’m prepared to spend some of mine. We could all do with a bit of fun. Get your coats on.’
They met up with the Murphys crossing the road to the park. Kathleen and her sisters were skipping some distance in front of Carmel, who was pushing the enormous old pram with Brendan in it. ‘Haven’t seen much of you lately, Flo. Everything okay? Any sign of that trip overseas?’
‘Stephen’s gone to France. Strange, but I don’t really believe in fortune telling.’ Flora smiled, resting her hand on the handle of the pram as she gazed down at Brendan. She tickled his tummy and he chuckled. ‘He’s a gorgeous lad,’ she said, laughing herself.
Carmel agreed vaguely, before adding, ‘Perhaps you should believe, Flo. Are my eyes playing tricks on me or is that really Mike coming along the road from the tram stop?’
Flora’s head turned quickly. It was Mike. She could hardly believe it. But he halted a foot away from them and seemed substantial enough. ‘Hi!’ He smiled faintly. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you walking along the road. Where are you off to?’
‘There’s a fair in the park,’ said Flora, not looking directly at him after that first scrutiny. How was he still here? It was difficult to take in that they were talking normally as if they had not parted the way they had, and for as long as they had.
‘Mind if I walk along with you?’ His grey eyes looked uncertain. ‘It’s some time since I’ve been to a fair.’