by June Francis
‘It’s a free country,’ she responded flatly.
Carmel looked at them both and hurried on after the children.
‘How have you been?’ said Mike, falling into step beside Flora.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘How are things with you?’
‘They’ve eased up a bit. You’ve probably seen the headlines in the paper. The Russians lifted the blockade months ago but we’re still airlifting supplies to Berlin.’
‘I didn’t know you were still airlifting,’ she said quickly. She dropped her eyes. ‘l’d convinced myself that you’d already gone home.’
‘It’ll be coming to an end soon, and everything will wind down.’
‘So you’ll be going home then?’ She lifted her head and stared at him, still barely able to believe he was there.
‘It looks like it.’ He buried his hands in his pockets. ‘I didn’t want to go, though, without seeing you.’ His gaze searched her face. ‘Without asking if there was any hope of your changing your mind. I still feel the same way about you, Flora.’ His voice had deepened with emotion.
‘Do you?’ Her tone was muted.
‘Yes. I’m sorry about all those things I said to you.’
She looked up at him then. ‘We were both angry – not thinking straight. I must have seemed ungrateful to you. Hard. Unfeeling. But I’m not! Even so I can’t see what good you being here can do, Mike. Nothing’s changed.’
He was silent a moment before saying, ‘Nothing at all?’
‘The same problems are there.’ Regret and longing were overcoming her again, affecting her voice and making it wobble. ‘Why can’t you give up on me?’
His face darkened. ‘Because I won’t! I got to thinking about what you said that night just before Christmas. Remember the fog? Best friends, you said. I didn’t act afterwards like I was your best friend.’
She was choked by tears and for several seconds could not speak. Then, ‘I didn’t act like yours either.’
Mike smiled. ‘Perhaps we can try just being friends before I go back to the States? Have it like it was in the early days, just after the war.’
She was silent. They were walking on grass now with the darkness all around them but ahead the bright lights of the fairground could be seen. ‘I suggested that once before and you said it was impossible.’
‘Perhaps I was wrong.’
She shook her head. ‘I think you were right. But if you want to go the fair – then there it is. Hear the music?’
‘Sure.’
‘Then let’s not think further than tonight.’
In Mike’s company the fair was fun. George greeted him like he had never been away, and Viv ran up to him. The jam jar money remained in George’s pocket because Mike said everything was his treat.
Swinging boats, roundabouts, the ghost train – they went on them all, as well as the waltzer which left Flora’s head spinning. Mike’s arm, which went round her shoulders momentarily when she stepped off it, was a reminder of how it had been once upon a time. It did not stay there as they shied for coconuts, and sent hoops spinning in an attempt to win tawdry prizes.
He walked them back to their street but refused to go further than the lamp post. ‘See you soon,’ was all he said on leaving.
Just like that, thought Flora in a daze. It’s starting all over again and I should stop it. But she couldn’t.
There was a familiar yet subtly different pattern to their relationship. One not lacking in sexual tension and excitement as they deliberately set out not to touch each other. A deed that was made easier if George or Vivien were with them.
Then Stephen came home. Flora perhaps welcomed him more warmly than she would have if she had not been seeing Mike. He talked a lot about his trip to Normandy and his visit to the war graves. She asked if he had seen Tom’s. His reply was brief and he quickly moved on to another subject: marriage. Perhaps just before Christmas? Flora’s reply was non-committal. How could she think of marrying Stephen when Mike was back on the scene?
Mike talked a lot too, but not of weddings. The shops and their goods at the Base, aeroplanes, films, America, sport. Mike had joined the Base soccer team and had played against Manchester All Stars in May.
There was more food on their table when Mike knocked on the back door and came to tea. Flora knew that she was not behaving fairly or sensibly, but the feeling of time running out was still strong within her.
One September evening she fobbed Stephen off with an excuse. Mike had arranged for the two of them to go alone to the theatre. Flora’s father said he would keep his eye on the kids. She did not disillusion him when he assumed that she was seeing Stephen.
It was a long time since Flora had been to the theatre. She found the experience heady, and was still in a vague, unreal mood when they came out into a dusk that held a cold crispness that set her cheeks tingling.
‘How about a drink?’ suggested Mike.
‘Fine,’ said Flora, not resisting when he pulled her arm through his. They walked along Lime Street together in the direction of Lewis’s.
He stopped in front of the imposing entrance of the Adelphi Hotel. Flora shot him a sidelong glance. ‘You don’t really intend going in there?’ She gripped his arm tightly, nervously.
Mike laughed. ‘What are you scared of? It’s not a cage full of wild animals, Flora.’
‘The rich might as well be,’ she said frankly. ‘I’m as different from them as a tiger is from me.’
The creases about his eyes deepened. ‘It’s only money that makes them different. And my money’s just as good as theirs any day. Even better than some, probably.’
She frowned thoughtfully. ‘It’s not just money, Mike. It’s class.’
‘Sod class, Flora! That’s the trouble with you English. Your class system.’ His mouth set. ‘There’s been a war and I reckon things have changed and are going to carry on changing. I fancied a taste of luxury this morning so I reserved a room for the night – so if you don’t want to be with the sort of people in the bars and restaurant we can have some food and drink sent up.’ She stared at him. ‘That’s if you trust me, of course?’
‘Can I?’ Her voice was pensive. ‘I know you’ve behaved like a perfect gentleman in the last few weeks, but –’
‘It’s your decision.’ He smiled that smile that still made her feel warm inside. ‘You can turn and walk out any time you like.’
‘So you say.’ She adjusted her green hat to a more jaunty angle and squared her shoulder in the rayon dress and jacket. Her expression was doubtful but she knew what she was doing. ‘Right.’ She took his arm and sauntered with him towards the entrance.
By the time they had managed to find their way through the revolving doors into an entrance hall with marble pillars and a polished cork floor, her heartbeat had settled down to a more sedate pace. She left everything to Mike and tried to look as haughty as some of the women in furs and long skirts. Everything was bustle with people coming and going and the porters were in great demand. She was expected to sign the register and saw that Mike had them down as Mr and Mrs O’Neill. For a moment she hesitated, staring at him. Her heart started to race again. He quirked his lips and she signed.
A pageboy took them up in a lift and along marble-lined corridors that seemed to stretch for miles.
Mike had a front-facing room that looked out over the war-damaged Lewis’s store and across the city, hazy with smoke and light-spangled. Flora could hardly believe that view, or the splendours of the attached bathroom. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured. ‘Really lovely.’
‘Why don’t you have a bath?’ suggested Mike. ‘While I order us some champagne.’
She turned quickly and looked at him. ‘I don’t know about the champagne. It might have a funny effect on me.’
He frowned at her. ‘You drank the bottle I bought you?’
She nodded meekly. ‘We wet Brendan’s head with it – Carmel, her sister and me.’
‘I thought you might have
saved it for an extra special occasion – such as when you wave me goodbye. Will you do that, Flora?’ he said, a little tight-lipped. ‘Come down to the Prince’s Landing Stage and send me on my way.’
‘I don’t like goodbyes,’ she murmured, moving away from him to finger the gleaming bath taps.
‘Do any of us?’ he said quietly. ‘Why don’t you have a bath? You don’t have to fill this one with a bucket,’ he murmured. ‘Just twiddle a couple of taps.’
‘I’ve never been in a bathroom like this,’ she said dreamily.‘If you get out, maybe I will have a bath.’
‘Sure.’ He smiled and went out, closing the door behind him.
She stared at the door for several seconds then began to run the water while she peeled off her jacket and undid the buttons on her frock.
Never had she been in a bath with water so hot. She lay partially submerged, realising that she had been right all along to doubt they could be just friends and they both knew it and had been playing a game the last few weeks.
When Mike opened the door and came in, she was not really surprised to see him clad in only a towel, carrying two glasses of champagne. ‘Is it good?’ he said quietly.
‘You should have knocked.’ She knew it was pointless trying to cover herself up now.
‘I reckon it’s good.’ He came closer, and handed her a glass. ‘Let’s drink to both our countries, Flora. May they prosper.’
‘I think you’ve already been drinking,’ she said.
‘Only one glass,’ he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bath and gazing at her. ‘You’ve still got a good figure, Flo.’
‘You keep your eyes to yourself,’ she said, but took the glass from him. They made a toast and then he kissed her.
‘You know what’s going to happen next, don’t you Flo?’ His voice was quiet.
Her throat moved. ‘I guess you’re telling me that I can’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself as well as your eyes.’
He said nothing, only filled her glass. She drank the wine quickly. She watched him put bottle and glasses down and drop his towel.
She was not quite prepared for what happened next. He got in the other end of the bath slowly and carefully, and she almost managed to get out. Only his hands slid over her feet and he pulled her towards him, kissing her ankles. Her fingers sought for a hold and she braced herself in the water. Her breathing seemed suspended as his mouth travelled up her legs kissing her so that she was all tingling sensation. She guessed then what he was going to do and was a little shocked. But his tongue’s caressing of her secret places caused her to moan and melt in ecstasy.
He slid inside her and began to move. Desire soared. She wanted him to penetrate deeper and deeper, to possess every part of her, utterly. He kissed her where he could reach, small biting kisses that left marks, until once more pleasure overwhelmed her.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ she whispered, as she lay, with his cheek resting on her breast, her arms holding him close. ‘It’s not right.’
‘What wasn’t right?’ His voice was drowsy.
‘You know! Kissing me where you did.’
‘You didn’t enjoy it?’ He kissed the tip of her nose.
‘Talk sense. But we shouldn’t have done any of it. We said we wouldn’t. And I’m going to be all spongy because I’ve never stayed in a bath so long.’
‘You want us to get out?’
‘We’d better.’ She pushed him away. ‘We’d better get out of here altogether before anything else happens.’
‘You wouldn’t like to spend the night here?’
‘You’re not thinking straight,’ she murmured, dripping water all over the floor as she stepped out.
‘I am.’ He threw her a towel.
Father’s with the children.’
He pulled a face. ‘We’ll go and have a drink in the lounge downstairs.’ He began to rub himself dry, his eyes on her body. ‘You’ll enjoy seeing it, Flora. You could fit the whole of your street in it.’
‘I look a mess.’ She frowned at her reflection in the mirror.
‘You’ve never looked lovelier,’ he whispered, and would have taken her into his arms again but she ducked and went into the bedroom.
At least three-quarters of the street could have fitted into the lounge, she thought. There were marble pillars, carpets and sparkling chandeliers. Mirrors the height of the walls reflected her dubious expression as Mike ordered more champagne. ‘I didn’t know you were so rich.’ She surveyed the sparkling liquid in her glass.’
‘I thought you English thought all us Yanks rich.’
‘I’m not our Hilda,’ she said, taking a cautious sip.
‘No,’ he murmured. ‘We would have been married by now if you were. She would have dumped the kids on your father and thought, what the hell, it’s my life.’
‘Is that what you’d like me to do, Mike?’ she said with a touch of anger, tossing off the rest of the champagne.
‘I respect you for the kind of person you are, and I love you,’ was his reply.
She could think of nothing to say in answer to that. Life was so difficult at times. Her head was definitely light and she felt deeply unhappy and guilty. She was breaking the rules again – and why, why couldn’t she want to do what she’d done with Stephen? Marrying him would be so sensible. Marrying Mike would never be dull. She watched her glass being filled again and did not demur. From somewhere came the sound of music. ‘Cinderella is at the ball.’ A sharp laugh escaped her.
‘I never fancied Cinderella myself,’ said Mike, his eyes serious. ‘Have you ever noticed that she never did anything for herself? The fairy godmother did all the magic. She only obeyed. Even when the prince came round with the slipper, she was waiting at home. I much prefer ‘Beauty and the Beast’ – she was more your caring woman, who had compassion for the Beast and cared for him so much that she took a chance.’
‘I’ve already taken a chance tonight, my love,’ she said, slurring her words slightly. ‘It’s not something that I’d like to make a habit of.’ There was a pleading expression on her flushed face. ‘I should be going home.’
He toyed with the stem of his glass. ‘I’d like you to stay here with me for the night. One night, Flo,’ he said urgently. ‘I’ll be leaving soon. Couldn’t you pretend for once that there’s only us?’
‘You want the impossible!’ She pulled a face. “If you were the only boy in the world and I was the only girl.” Life’s not a song! It’s hard – it’s disappointing! It’s hell saying goodbye all over again. But at least I’m not kidding myself that life could really be like this for me.’ She looked about her and up at the elaborate moulded ceiling and chandeliers.‘Anyway, I don’t think I’d like it.’
‘How d’you know?’
‘Because I do. It’s not real.’
‘It tastes real.’ He held a mouthful of champagne against his tongue before swallowing.
‘You’re drunk, and so am I. I knew what would happen and I shouldn’t have let it. There’s no happy endings in life. Not forever anyway. When I said that about Cinderella – it’s because I feel like her in a way. Maybe she was glad when the clock struck twelve and she could get the hell out of that palace. And maybe she didn’t go looking for the prince because she felt safer where she was in the kitchen. It must take a heck of a lot of know how to run a palace. It takes nerve to begin a whole new life.’ She stared thoughtfully into her empty glass and added, ‘I’d really like to have a go. It’d be an adventure. But perhaps after all I’m a coward because part of me is scared of going to America.’
He hesitated before saying, ‘There’d be nothing to be afraid of, Flo. I’d look after you.’
She stared at him. ‘I know. But who’d look after Father? And Rosie’s grave? What about the religious thing? We’re back to the beginning again.’
His fingers twisted round hers. ‘There’s no easy answer, Flo. It’s a matter of choices.’
She grimaced. ‘Right! I’ll make one
choice, Mike, and be content with that.’
‘What?’ he questioned with a slight smile.
‘Let’s live for now, have some food and then go to bed.’
He was silent. ‘I should say no. It’s not really the answer I want.’
‘No,’ she said sadly. ‘But it’s the best I can give you. So what d’you say?’
He kissed each of her fingers slowly. ‘I never could resist you, Flora.’
The sun had not long risen and their room was still in shadow. Flora, always an early riser, was standing by the window, gazing out over the city. Her city, her home town. She was aware in that moment of how much she really cared for the place. Poor Liverpool – it was going to be a struggle to rebuild over the damage that Hitler’s Luftwaffe inflicted despite its having been scheduled as a development area – despite the scheme to reconstruct the docks – despite its having been chosen as one of the sites for the Festival of Britain planned two years hence. It could never be the same Liverpool – but there would always be Liverpudlians. She would always be a Liverpudlian.
‘What are you thinking?’ Mike’s voice at her shoulder caused her to start. ‘You’ve been staring out of the window for ages.’
‘I was thinking that although I told Father not to wait up for me – that I’d be late in – he’ll be having a fit if he goes looking for me in the bedroom and finds out I didn’t come home.’
‘Cut yourself free, Flo.’ His arm went about her waist and he kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re a big girl now. We could have our own home, rear a family, and be happy in every way.’
‘Don’t,’ she said softly, leaning against him. ‘Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow,’ she whispered as if in a trance.
He sighed. ‘You almost spoilt it by giggling. You kept saying how important it was to keep in step.’
‘That must have been the champagne.’
‘Not just the champagne, I hope.’ He pressed her hard against him. ‘It was more like the Gay Gordons by the time we finished making love.’
A tiny smile lifted her mouth. ‘What a thing to say, Mike. The Gay Gordons is all wild and mad with kilts swinging.’