by Fiona Ford
Flo felt a sudden compulsion rise up. More than anything she wanted to tell someone, anyone about Neil’s final letter, but as she looked at Alice’s worn and tired complexion, Flo knew she couldn’t add to her old friend’s burden. She had made her bed; she was going to have to lie in it.
Chapter Six
Later that evening Flo found herself in a Chinese restaurant in the heart of the West End nestled between Henry and Mr Button. The restaurant was full of customers enjoying their Saturday night, and the scent of fried onions and spices filled the air.
Glancing around, she could see that everyone was in a good mood, which only made her feel worse about the fact she really didn’t want to be there. She was exhausted after her first full Saturday back at the store, and all she wanted to do was go back to Bell Street and collapse on her bed.
Yet her friends’ outfits alone told her that wasn’t an option, given they had all arrived dressed in their finery. Flo began to wish she had made more of an effort, instead of leaving on the black woollen midi dress she had worn all day.
Flo had been too busy in the end to talk to Henry and apologise for that afternoon’s outburst, and the conversation so far between the two of them had been stilted at best. She was desperate to bring the subject up and make her apologies but each time she tried one of the girls would ask her something and Henry would talk to someone else.
Now Flo turned her attentions to Mr Button. He was doing his best to be as charming and friendly as ever, but it was clear from his lined face and bags under his copper-coloured eyes that his new role was taking a toll. Instead she let her eyes roam across the table, taking in the sight of her friends and colleagues all enjoying themselves. How on earth was she supposed to sack any one of these girls?
She opened and closed her mouth, desperate for something to say, and thankfully was saved by the arrival of their food. As the waitress placed a plate of fried rice and chicken in front of Flo, she inhaled the rich scent of exotic spices. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was; perhaps this meal wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Picking up her fork, she suddenly felt something sharp against her ribs and realised Dot had leaned across poor Jack to catch her attention, her chest hovering dangerously close to his chicken noodle dish.
‘How about you give us one of your songs after all this, Flo love? Put us all in a celebratory mood.’
Flo looked at her in surprise. ‘I don’t think so, Dot.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport,’ Mary scolded. ‘A song from you would finish the evening off in style.’
‘I said no.’
‘But you could think about it,’ Rose said in a small voice.
Irritation flared and Flo put down her cutlery and glared at the group. ‘I’ve already told you all I don’t want to sing, and I wish you would leave it alone.’
There was a brief silence then before Jack stepped in. ‘I always wanted to know, Flo, how you first got into singing. I mean, I know your aunt sang, but did you ever sing with her or when you were young?’
Flo looked up from her plate and smiled at him in surprise. ‘I always used to sing as a kid. When Aggie first took me in after my mother ran off – Dad dumped me with her and Uncle Ray – if things were tight she would do a turn at the local pub and sometimes she’d be asked to go and sing at one of those posh houses.’
‘What you mean – after dinner in some big old mansion?’ Alice asked.
Flo nodded as Mary leaned forward to speak. ‘It happens all the time. Mummy thought nothing of getting our charlady’s sister to sing after one of her legendary supper parties. She sang like an absolute nightingale – should have been in the Albert Hall.’
‘There you are, Mrs Canning,’ Henry said warmly, spearing a piece of ginger root into his mouth, ‘you’re clearly wasted at Liberty’s. You should be in the Albert Hall.’
Flo turned to the deputy manager in surprise. Catching his eye, she saw he had the faintest of smiles across his face and felt herself relax. She was about to say something when Dot beat her to it.
‘Don’t you go giving her ideas,’ the matriarch warned. ‘She’s too good for us as it is.’
‘Precisely,’ Alice exclaimed. ‘We’d be lost without her. Still, Flo, if times ever get tough you could take a leaf out of your aunt’s book.’
‘What – sing at posh houses for a few bob?’ Flo scoffed, turning away from Henry and glancing back at her friend. ‘I know Aggie was good at it, but I don’t think it’s for me.’
‘Made her happy though, darlin’,’ Dot chimed sadly. ‘She used to love hobnobbing with those posh types. She told me how she would take you when you were a little ‘un and wouldn’t sleep; the sound of her singing would send you right off.’
‘You might want to try that with Arthur one night.’ Alice laughed. ‘Doris down the road has got him tonight and I just hope he’s not going to send her around the bend.’
‘Is he still keeping you awake all night?’ Mary asked.
‘He’s teething again,’ Alice replied by way of explanation.
Mary grimaced. ‘I suppose I’ll have to cope with that when David and I adopt baby Emma.’
Flo shot her a sympathetic smile. Mary and her fiancé David, who was an army doctor, were planning to adopt his sister Mabel Matravers’ baby as soon as they were married. The former deputy manager was likely to spend several years in prison for masterminding the illegal hooch ring she had set up with her husband Alf.
‘Poor little fella’s really going through the mill,’ Jack added. ‘I remember my Jack Junior going through just the same thing. It’ll pass; we’ll get through it, honey.’
As Flo watched Jack place his right hand over Alice’s left one and give it a squeeze, she found the tender action surprised her. A pang of longing for her husband hit her in the stomach, so sharply she felt as if she had been speared with one of the restaurant’s chopsticks. Would this longing for the man she had adored ever end?
‘I’m just getting some air,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Flo didn’t wait for a reply; instead she left the table and fled down the stairs and out into the dark street beyond. The grief of a future without her husband and aunt by her side, supporting her, loving her, hit her so hard she felt as if she had been physically struck. As she lifted her chin towards the dark skies and seeing nothing but emptiness, Flo heard the sound of footsteps echoing behind her.
‘Bit cold for standing out here all night,’ Bess called.
Flo gave a half-smile. ‘I just needed a break.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘Thanks for letting me come tonight,’ Bess said eventually. ‘We don’t get nothing like this up the factory.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Flo was surprised. Bess wasn’t usually known for pleasantries and it made a nice change. ‘Do you like working at the munitions factory then?’
‘It’s all right. The girls are easy enough to rub along with and the work’s simple.’
‘Don’t you worry about it being …’
‘Dangerous?’ Bess finished. ‘Not really. I mean, it’s risky, but the way I see it is that it’s not as risky as, say, what our boys are doing abroad fighting for our freedom.’
Flo said nothing; her mind was full of Neil. He had lost his life fighting for their freedom. What had she done for him? Lied to him so much he had been disgusted by her.
‘Penny for ‘em,’ Bess said, cutting through her thoughts.
Flo came to and shook her head. ‘Sorry, miles away. I was just thinking about what Dot said. You know, about my aunt singing in the posh houses.’
‘You didn’t know about that then?’
‘No, I knew.’ Flo nodded. ‘I used to go with her as a little girl. Aggie would come alive as she sang. She was like a star the moment she opened her mouth.’
‘Sounds as though you have some very fond memories,’ Bess said, her tone gentler now.
‘I do. She used to say I was her
good-luck charm, that she always sang better when she knew I was there.’
‘What a lovely memory,’ Bess replied. ‘What about your mum?’
‘No idea. She left me with Aunt Aggie when I was a nipper. Aggie was never too clear about why, but I always thought my dad had something to do with it. I imagined that she ran away from him and started a new life.’
‘Well, if that’s true aren’t you angry she didn’t take you with her?’
Pursing her rosebud lips Flo thought for a moment; then she shook her head. ‘I never saw it like that. She did what she had to. My old man was a wrong ‘un and Aunt Aggie was as good a mum to me as I could have hoped for.’
‘What about your uncle?’
‘He was a kind man.’ Flo smiled fondly as memories of Uncle Ray flooded her mind. Flo missed him; he had died when she was only eight.
‘Families, eh?’ Bess sighed. ‘Not all they’re cracked up to be, are they?’
‘In my experience you make your own family in this life,’ Flo said wisely.
Bess regarded her carefully. ‘So, has your family got something to do with the reason you’re not singing?’
Flo stared at Bess, aware her heart was racing. She had half expected Alice, Mary or even Dot to ask her outright but Bess was almost a stranger. She had no business or right to pry into her private life. Flo opened her mouth, about to unleash her fury, when something stopped her. The look in Bess’s eye told her she wasn’t trying to provoke her, she simply looked concerned.
‘It’s not something I like to talk about.’
‘I gathered that,’ Bess replied, her gaze fixed firmly on Flo. ‘But it might help if you do. And although you barely know me, trust me, I won’t judge.’
Shakily, Flo let out a long breath. To her surprise she found she did want to tell someone; the burden of it all was pressing heavily on her chest and lungs. So much so that at times she struggled to breathe. The thought of what she had done winded her as surely as if she had been punched.
‘I lied to my husband about my singing,’ she admitted. ‘I told him I’d stop, and I didn’t.’
‘Why?’ Bess asked.
‘Because he said it wasn’t proper for a wife to be doing such a thing.’
Bess smirked. ‘Knew it all, did he, your Neil? Tell you what to eat of a morning and what colour knickers to put on ’n’ all?’
Blooms of colour appeared in Flo’s cheeks. ‘Don’t you judge me, or my family, you don’t know the half. I thought you said you wouldn’t judge?’
‘Sorry,’ Bess said, holding her hands up in defence. ‘That was wrong of me, I didn’t mean it, Flo. Please tell me.’
Flo ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘Neil wrote to me after Aggie died and told me he didn’t want me to sing in the pub any more. I was angry but told him I’d think about it. After all, I loved singing; it made me feel better about life. So when you moved in, I wrote to him and told him I’d stopped and that I’d opened a guest house instead to make ends meet.’
‘Blimey! That was a whopper,’ Bess gasped.
Flo couldn’t help smile at the girl’s honesty. ‘Yes, it was. And a whopper that caught me out when Neil paid me a surprise visit in August.’
Bess’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘You mean when Jean and I went away to Bangor to see our friends? You told us Neil had returned home, but you never said it had gone badly.’
‘I didn’t want to tell anyone,’ Flo admitted. ‘A part of me hoped I could salvage things. I never imagined it would be too late and he would die hating me.’
Bess reached out an arm and placed it on Flo’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure he didn’t hate you. But look, I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want.’
Flo said nothing and together the girls went back inside the restaurant. About to follow Bess up the stairs, she pushed her hands into her pockets and her fingertips brushed against the envelope she always carried with her. It was like a perverse talisman, she realised, something she hated to have with her, but something she could never stand to be without. Pulling the envelope out, she ran her finger over the address, enjoying the feel of the pen indentations across the paper. It was time to release the burden she had been carrying around for so long.
‘Here,’ she said, thrusting the paper into Bess’s hands.
Bess frowned. ‘What’s this?’
‘These are Neil’s final words to me,’ Flo said. ‘This was the letter he wrote to me when he got back on board his ship.
16th September 1942
My dearest Flo,
I’m sorry it has taken me so long to reply to you. I could fib and tell you that we’ve been busy, but the truth is I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I left you on the heath. I was so angry with you for lying to me that I just couldn’t see past that. I wanted to get away, to think about things and that’s all I’ve been doing since we set sail.
You have always known how I feel about lies. My mother lied to my father for years, leading us and him a merry dance while she carried on her affair with that singer. She broke his heart and mine when she eventually left us for that man. I saw how lies broke up my family; you saw it too, Flo. I suppose that’s why I can’t understand why you would lie to me.
I do know I perhaps shouldn’t have told you not to do something. You were right, of course: I didn’t want you singing because of my mother. I suppose I thought you might meet some tall, dark and handsome fella and go running off into the night with him. I couldn’t admit it to you that day but I can now. Even though that’s the real reason, I don’t think you should ever have gone behind my back like you did.
I keep going over it. It was such a huge lie and it’s shaken me. I want to forgive you, I want us to move past this, but at the moment I don’t think I can.
That’s why I think it’s best if we keep our distance for a while, and take some time to think about things.
Your husband,
Neil
Chapter Seven
The following morning was Sunday and Flo woke feeling bone tired. She shifted about in the hard single bed and did her best to shake herself awake. It had turned out to be a very late night. After the meal, Dot had insisted everyone return to the little Bell Street terrace for a sing-song. Flo hadn’t sung but she had played the piano.
Once everyone had grown tired of singing, Bess had given her a friendly nudge, and Flo had taken a deep breath and shared the letter with her friends. Unsurprisingly they had all been incredulous, but Flo was too tired to talk it all through then and there. Instead she had promised that they would discuss it the following morning.
Slipping her feet into her threadbare slippers, Flo reached for her dressing gown and padded down the stairs. As she walked into the kitchen, eager to find tea and toast, she saw to her surprise all her friends had beaten her to it and were gathered around the table. Their faces were filled with compassion and for a moment she wondered what they had been discussing. But then it hit her that the truth was out in the open now. Everyone knew her husband had detested her when he died, and there was nothing she could ever do to put that right.
‘I suppose I don’t need to ask what you’re all talking about,’ she said, helping herself to a cup of tea from the pot that stood at the centre of the table and taking a seat next to Mary.
‘We’re only trying to help you, Flo love,’ Alice said in a soothing tone as she bounced Arthur on her knee. ‘We’re not talking out of turn.
‘We’re here for you,’ Mary said kindly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.
‘I feel awful about it. I shouldn’t have lied,’ Flo said with a sigh, running her hand across her face. ‘I keep going over it and thinking about what would have happened if I’d just admitted that I loved singing and I didn’t want to give it up.’
Mary pushed the remnants of her cold tea away. ‘Because you didn’t want to have to deal with the consequences of what he would say. He didn’t hate you, he was just angry; you’ve got to stop thinking
that way.’
‘Do you really think so? Flo asked doubtfully.
‘Yes,’ Alice said firmly. ‘Neil adored you, you know that.’
‘Things are often said in marriage that people don’t mean,’ Dot said, rolling her eyes skywards. ‘Heaven only knows me and my George shared a few cross words and said a fair few things we shouldn’t have. When he died, Flo love, I went over every little word that he said, looking for deeper meanings in everything.’
There was a brief pause then as the girls searched for the right thing to say. Flo felt almost sorry for them. She knew there was nothing that could make it better.
‘You can’t hold on to this, Flo,’ Alice said, breaking the silence. ‘Do you remember when Joy died? I said some terrible things to her before she was killed but I realised I had to look at our relationship as a whole, not just a little part of it.’
‘But Joy did sleep with your Luke,’ Rose pointed out not unreasonably.’
‘Precisely,’ Flo added. ‘What you said wasn’t unreasonable. What I did was unforgivable.’
‘In that moment perhaps,’ Rose reasoned. ‘But haven’t we all behaved badly? My Tommy’s due home for forty-eight hours’ leave at Christmas. I’m worried sick about all the things I said in my letters when I went blind and I’m terrified he’s going to look at me and think I’m not the girl he married. But it’s marriage, Flo, good, bad and ugly.’
Bess reached across the table for the pot to top up the girls’ cups with tea. ‘You were just very unlucky, Flo. Neil never hated you. Look at what he said – he said he wanted to find a way back to you, to just give him some time. Those aren’t the words of a man who really hated his wife, not deep down.’
‘Do you think?’ Flo asked again.
‘Of course,’ Jean insisted.
‘You can’t let this be the reason you never sing again,’ Mary added. ‘You’re too talented to let that go. ’