by Fiona Ford
Immediately Flo clamped an arm around Dot and pulled the matriarch in towards her. ‘You’re not going to lose him. It’s you he loves; I can see it in his eyes. And to be honest, it doesn’t matter a jot if Evie Allingham has set her sights on Mr Button because he’s not going anywhere.’
Dot lifted her head from Flo’s shoulder and smiled. ‘When did you get so wise?’
‘I learned it all from you,’ Flo replied coyly.
‘Then take this from someone who knows,’ Dot said sagely. ‘It’s early days and I know the idea of being with someone else couldn’t be further from your mind now, but don’t close yourself off from living your life. You’re still here, and you deserve to find happiness, with whoever, doing whatever. Do you hear me? Don’t run from it, Flo darlin’.’
Flo shuffled uncomfortably in her chair. ‘I’m not running, Dot, I just couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else. I will only ever want Neil.’
‘I know that,’ Dot said quietly. ‘I’m not saying that you should even think about finding someone else. What I am saying is don’t stop living. It took me a long time to understand it myself, but your Neil’s gone now …’
A stabbing pain pushed its way through to Flo’s heart and she felt the loss as sharply as she had when she’d first discovered that Neil had died. ‘I just keep going over and over it,’ she whispered. ‘I keep thinking that if I had been honest with him, if I had just told him the truth about me singing and why it was important to me, then perhaps he wouldn’t have died and we might have been able to sort things out.’
‘Don’t be so silly,’ Dot cried, her mouth falling open in alarm. ‘You can’t think like that. Nothing you did or didn’t do affected what happened to that blessed boat, and I can tell you this for sure: your Neil didn’t hate you, he could never have. He loved you, Flo. He always loved you, no matter what he said.’
‘But that letter …’ Flo’s voice trailed off miserably as she remembered the pain of those words.
‘That letter was him spouting off like all men do,’ Dot insisted. ‘You mustn’t take that to heart, love. How many times have we all said things and regretted them? I bet you told Neil on more than one occasion what a soft sod he was, but I bet he didn’t go around thinking you hated him.’
Flo shook her head as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘Then that’s what you have to think about, that and the fact he wanted you to be happy.’ Dot said patiently. ‘So if you find happiness then don’t turn your back on it just because you think you’re doing a disservice to Neil. Your heart’s big enough to love all sorts of things and people in all sorts of ways.’
‘Like yours, you mean?’ Flo sniffed.
‘Just like mine, darlin’,’ Dot replied, holding Flo’s hand and giving it a squeeze.
‘And does that heart stretch to loving Evie Allingham?’ Flo asked cheekily.
There was a pause then before Dot spoke. ‘I’m human, Flo love, not a bloody saint. I refer you to my earlier comment – over my dead body.’
Chapter Fifteen
As it turned out, Evie Allingham was delighted to be asked to join Liberty’s and she started on the floor the following Thursday. Flo knew that Mr Button had asked the new fabric recruit to work just a couple of afternoons a week. Consequently, it came as something of a surprise when she found a petite woman with dark hair piled high on her head, in a fabulously elaborate style, rifling through the rolls of utility print early that morning.
‘Can I help you?’ Flo asked sharply.
Spinning round, the woman, who Flo could see was easily in her early fifties, gave her a winning smile. ‘You must be Mrs Canning, the fabric manager. I’m Evie Allingham.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Flo said, extending a hand towards the woman as she breathed in great clouds of Bourjois’s popular perfume, Evening in Paris. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘And I you,’ Mrs Allingham replied. ‘Mr Button can’t sing your praises enough.’
‘That’s very kind. And he tells me great things about you, of course.’
‘Oh, all nonsense.’ Mrs Allingham chuckled, waving Flo’s compliments away. ‘I’m a glorified seamstress is all.’
‘I’m sure you’re a lot more than that.’ Flo was warming to the woman. ‘As I understand it you virtually ran the fabric department at Botheringtons – not to mention the store! – and that was well before we women were having to step up and take on these roles.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Mrs Allingham insisted. ‘We had a much smaller operation, though we did of course always want to have Liberty’s customers.’
Flo laughed at the woman’s honesty. ‘Our customers are fantastic and very loyal. We like to say that once a customer crosses the threshold of Liberty’s they never want to leave.’
‘That’s certainly true,’ Mrs Allingham said, running her hands longingly over the rolls of new utility print. ‘I could never understand how Liberty’s did it, the fabric at Botheringtons was always good, but never quite this good.’
‘Well, you’ve crossed over to the other side now,’ Flo said cheekily, ‘and it’s a pleasure to have you here. Though I must confess I wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon.’
Mrs Allingham looked shame-faced. ‘I wasn’t supposed to be here but darling Edwin let me sneak in a little earlier after I told him how desperate I was to lay my hands on Liberty fabric.’
Flo would have preferred it if Mr Button had spoken to her first about letting in a new staff member unsupervised. She didn’t want to make a fuss but there was something about it that didn’t seem right. However, before she had a chance to comment further on the matter the sound of footsteps behind her caught her attention. Turning around she saw Alice, Rose and Mary walking across the floor towards the department.
‘Right on time, girls,’ she said with a smile. ‘This is Mrs Allingham. She’s here to help us out a couple of afternoons a week.’
‘Four afternoons, dear,’ Mrs Allingham put in. ‘And please, I know all you girls call each other by your first names so do address me as Evie. I so want to fit in with you all.’
Alice extended her hand. ‘I’m Alice Milwood and it’s very nice to meet you, Evie. If you need any help with anything be sure to let us know.’
‘I’m Rose Harper,’ the younger girl said, stepping forward and extending her hand in the direction of Evie. ‘I work upstairs and just popped down here for some paperwork and this is Mary Holmes-Fotherington.’
‘Lovely to meet you.’ Mary smiled. ‘Do let us know if there is anything at all any of us can do to help you.’
Evie clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘And it’s wonderful to meet all three of you. I must say I am so thrilled to be working with you.’
‘And we are as well,’ Flo said evenly as she made her way towards the desk to go through the sales figures for the previous day. ‘Now, may I suggest you spend the morning in the stockroom familiarising yourself with the stock we have – and the guard books of course.’
‘Oh, there’s no need for any of that,’ Evie cried. ‘I’ve been working in fabrics longer than you’ve been alive. The Lord has sent me to help you, my dear, so just hand me my sales book and I’ll get going.’
Flo frowned. She wasn’t sure what God had to do with this particular moment, but Liberty’s had procedures. ‘We do have a strict hierarchy in service, Evie, I’m sure you understand that.’
Evie shrugged. ‘Who are we to get bogged down in such matters? Edwin asked me to help out and I’m good with customers.’
‘And keen on taking our commission,’ Mary muttered, just out of Evie’s earshot.
Flo glared at Mary, before turning to Evie. ‘I really do think that on this occasion it would be better for everyone if you would do as I ask, Evie. Call it humouring me if you prefer.’
A cloud passed across Evie’s features for a second before she gave a small nod of her head. ‘Very well then, but, Flo dear, a word of advice: seniority isn’t alway
s how long you’ve spent at a place, but more the wealth of knowledge you’ve built up. That was the way of it at Botheringtons anyway and it served us rather well.’
Flo felt a small burst of rage pass through her. Evie might seem nice enough but she surely couldn’t expect to come in here and dish out orders. Smiling sweetly, though she felt anything but, Flo rested her gaze on the department’s newest recruit. ‘And while I appreciate that, Evie, and of course have nothing but respect for you coming to work here and all the experience you have gained, I’m afraid I must remind you that at Liberty’s we do things a little differently and it’s perhaps just one of the many reasons our customers return to us time and time again. That’s the Liberty way and it’s served us rather well over the years.’
As she finished speaking Flo was sure she saw sparks fly from the corners of Evie’s thin-lipped mouth and braced herself for retaliation. Yet the woman recovered quickly and instead gave Flo a small smile. ‘You’re quite right, Flo. Do call me when you need me.’
With that Evie turned around and made her way to the stockroom. Once she was out of sight Flo let go of the breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding.
‘Blimey, she’s a handful, ain’t she?’ Alice marvelled.
‘Reminded me of my old French teacher at school,’ Mary added, tugging her black woollen dress straight. ‘Frightening beast she was. I thought you and her were going to slug it out amongst the rayon, Flo!’
Flo rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mary. Though I’ll admit she’s mildly terrifying.’
‘Mildly?’ Rose echoed. ‘We don’t want another Mrs Matravers.’
At the mention of their old deputy store manager the girls fell quiet.
‘Anyway,’ Flo said, turning brightly to Rose, eager to change the subject. ‘You wanted some paperwork from me?’
To Flo’s surprise Rose shook her head. ‘No, I wanted to talk to you. The fundraising evening is coming up soon and we need to start rehearsing. Can you make Sunday night for a first rehearsal in the sewing room?’
Flo looked doubtful. ‘I told you, Rose, I’m not singing.’
‘I know that,’ Rose said, her tone gentler now. ‘But you can play the piano beautifully and I’m short a pianist after Mr Hannington from carpets let me down. Surely you wouldn’t mind doing that?’
At the request, Flo cocked her head and regarded her friend. Even though she did a good job of disguising the fact she struggled to see, the white stick she carried and the way her eyes roamed were giveaways. Rose had been through so much, yet despite a setback earlier that year had returned stronger than ever. Here she was doing her best to muck in and make an effort, putting all her troubles behind her. Shouldn’t Flo be big enough to do the same?
‘Yes, come on, Flo,’ Alice chimed in. ‘You can’t put it off forever. Besides, it will do you good to at least be around music again. I bet you’ve not been near a piano since …’
Alice’s voice trailed off and Flo felt a pang of grief rise within her. It had been several weeks since Neil’s funeral and though she liked to think she was coping there were still times when the pain would strike her suddenly and severely. She felt the beginnings of that pain edge their way through her body and it was all she could do not to cry out with the agony of it all.
Catching Alice’s gaze, Flo began to shake her head, only for Mary to reach for her arm. ‘We all know something of grief here, Flo,’ she began in a low voice. ‘Each of us has lost something precious and each of us has coped with more than our fair share of dark days. Yet you have your very own magic remedy built right inside you. Not only does that beautiful voice of yours give great joy to others but you also have the power within you to slip somewhere else while you’re singing. To lose yourself and your pain for just a few moments while you’re doing it. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we wish we had a gift like that. If you don’t want to sing out of guilt because you think you’re doing something Neil would have hated then that’s up to you, but at least play the piano. You deserve a break from the torture.’
As Mary brought her speech to a close, Flo stood and thought for a moment. Her friend was right. Music did bring great comfort, it always had, and now just when she needed this salve more than ever she was denying herself it.
‘All right,’ she said shakily. ‘I’ll do it. Rose, what time is rehearsal?’
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday morning dawned bright and clear and for the first time in weeks Flo found herself less burdened by grief than usual. She wasn’t sure if it was because she had finally had a good night’s sleep, or because she was thinking about playing the piano. But whatever it was, Flo was grateful for it all the same.
Getting off the bus in Hayes, Flo stifled a yawn. She and the rest of the Liberty girls, together with baby Arthur, had got up early to visit Bess in hospital, where by all accounts she was doing well. Flo was pleased to hear it, yet despite feeling rested, the earliness of the hour along with the fact they had endured a slow Sunday bus service had left her feeling weary.
As she and the girls got off the bus, which dropped them a few yards from the hospital, Flo realised that what she actually felt was fear. She wasn’t sure if she could cope with the doom and gloom that a visit to Bess’s bedside would no doubt bring. Yet Flo also knew that she had to put her own feelings aside. This wasn’t about her. This was about Bess and Jean and being there for them in the way the Liberty girls had always been there for her in her hour of need.
Together the girls walked across the road and into the main entrance of the cottage hospital. The smell was the first thing Flo noticed. A heady concoction of carbolic soap that assaulted her nostrils. Struggling for breath, Flo spotted Jean sitting by the door on a hard wooden chair. Gesturing to the others, Flo rushed over to greet her.
‘How are you, Jean love?’
Jean smiled as she got to her feet to greet the girls. ‘All right. The doctors are with Bess now. She’s really looking forward to your visit.’
‘’Course.’ Dot beamed, laying a comforting hand on Jean’s forearm.
Taking time to drink in the younger girl’s appearance, Flo was relieved to see a brief smile flash across her features. Jean looked pale and drawn, and Flo could see she was putting a brave face on things. She was glad that she and the girls had made the long journey; it would be worth it to try and rally Jean.
‘That’s what we’re here for,’ Alice put in. ‘You’re not alone, Jean, and neither is Bess.’
‘How is she?’ Flo blurted.
‘As you’d expect.’ Jean sighed. ‘Bess is angry. She always gets angry when things don’t go her way and, well, this is something that she says she’ll never get used to.’
‘She will,’ Flo said in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. ‘You can get used to anything with enough time. Look at Rose.’
Jean nodded as Rose gave the girl an encouraging smile. ‘You make it look so easy.’
Rose laughed. ‘Easy was the last thing it was. But some very good friends helped me realise that life went on. Your Bess will get there.’
Turning to Flo, Jean looked hopefully up at her. ‘And you, you’ve been so brave since you lost Neil. I don’t know how you do it.’
‘I don’t know about that. I just keep going through the motions and putting one foot in front of the other, hoping one day it will work out all right,’ Flo said, not wanting to reveal the truth that she also often wondered how she was dragging herself through each day.
‘Perhaps Bess might listen to you both then,’ Jean said, a hint of eagerness to her voice.
‘I take it she won’t listen to you, darlin’?’ Dot asked bluntly.
Jean shook her head, misery etched across her face. ‘She won’t eat, drink or sleep, let alone talk to me, and I’m worried about her.’
With that Jean gestured for them all to follow her down the corridor and Flo realised she was taking them to Bess’s room. Jean pushed open the door and the girls followed her insi
de.
‘Look who I found.’ Jean smiled as she steered Flo to the foot of the bed.
The sight of Bess took Flo’s breath away. She looked like a lost child swaddled in blankets, and her arm wrapped in white bandages, and she was still yellow from the munitions she worked with. Only the crown of her head showed her true hair colour. Yet despite Jean’s protestations she did appear to be making good progress. The burns on Bess’s face had started to heal and there was a little colour in her cheeks.
But she also looked as though she had lost weight. The once well-built girl now looked birdlike.
‘She’s been asleep all morning,’ Jean murmured, perching on the bed next to her sister.
‘Poor mite,’ Alice soothed. ‘She needs her rest.’
‘Not going to help her hand grow back though, is it?’ Rose crudely pointed out.
Mary’s eyes widened. ‘You can’t say things like that.’
‘Why not?’ Rose shrugged, gripping her cane. ‘It’s the truth, and if there’s one thing I would have appreciated, it was someone telling me the truth when I was in hospital.’
‘She’s right,’ a voice croaked.
Glancing down at the bed, Flo saw that Bess was now awake and looking stonily at the girls.
‘How are you, Bess?’ Flo asked.
‘Oh, you know,’ she replied, doing her best to shuffle herself upright. ‘As well as can be expected – that’s the phrase, isn’t it?’
Dot nodded. ‘And what do they expect, darlin’?’
Bess smiled at the bluntness of the question. ‘Finally a bit of straight talking. I could do with that instead of Jean here trying to drown me in a bath of positivity.’
‘It’s important,’ Jean replied. ‘You have to keep your hopes up.’
‘About what?’ Bess protested. ‘As Rose has just rightly pointed out it’s not like I’m going to grow my bloody hand back, is it? What’s positive about that?’
‘Bugger all,’ Rose agreed. ‘And you’ve every right to feel fed up. I always felt as if I had to be brave when I first went blind, but I wish I’d roared and wailed a bit like I wanted to. It’s hard, love. Even though you know there’s a war on, that there’s someone else worse off than yourself, that you’re supposed to be grateful for the fact you’re still alive, it doesn’t change the fact you feel downright rotten. The sooner you realise you’re allowed to feel like that, the sooner you’ll get on with the business of healing and getting used to your new life, because there is a life still waiting for you, Bess, trust me.’