The two days passed much quicker than Flora thought they would. Having so much to do helped. Her one fear – that she might have to ask the consent of her father – hadn’t materialized. Having turned twenty-one years of age, she was able to give her own consent to the marriage. She had never made a decision so easily and so readily, and this surprised her. She’d never had a boyfriend to compare the feelings that she had for Cyrus. She just knew he was the right one for her. She knew that her life would be empty without him in it. She knew she was in love.
Rowena had come into her own, on hearing the news. Rummaging through her stack of materials, she had made a gown so beautiful that tears had run down Flora’s cheeks at the sight of it. Its simplicity gave it its beauty, with an Empire line, and the dress flowing to her ankles in the palest pink silk.
Flora already had a perfect, sheer silver-grey over-jacket from another outfit that lifted the gown from simple and elegant to a thing of beauty. Rowena made it even more so, by adorning it with tiny pink flowers that she’d made from the same silk as the gown. The frock had tiny straps over the shoulders, but the jacket had three-quarter sleeves, with layers of frills at the cuffs. The effect was stunning and was enhanced when Aunt Pru, now feeling much better, had dressed Flora’s long hair in a swooped-back style that hung in a bunch of ringlets falling from her crown to her neck.
‘Sommat blue and sommat borrowed is the order, lass. Wear these pearls. I bought them out of me first wage. They were on a market stall, and I knew they were good ’uns, but the market trader hadn’t seen their value; she had a secondhand stall and sold everything for a penny. Me best buy ever!’
‘Oh, Aunt Pru, they were! They’re beautiful.’
‘I had to clean them up. They looked as if a coal miner had worn them on his shift, but one rub of me finger, as they lay there amongst the rubbish she had, and I knew. Someone had thrown the baby out with the bath water – as we up north say about such a find.’
Flora laughed. It was good to see Aunt Pru looking relaxed and happy. ‘I’ll take great care of them.’
‘Eeh, lass, I canna get over it. My Flora – a bride. I’ll say one thing. No grass nor weeds grow under your feet, lass. But I don’t blame you. If I’d seen Cyrus first, I’d have grabbed him.’
‘Oh, Aunt Pru!’
Their laughter died down as Pru’s tears overflowed.
‘It’ll be all right – we’ll get through. I’ll always be here for you and Freddy, Aunt Pru. Always. And you can be nanny and grandmother to our children. We’ll be a happy family. We will.’
Rowena finished fussing over the gown and stood up. ‘My, ain’t you the pretty one, Flora, girl?’
‘That’s down to you, dear Rowena, and Aunt Pru – thank you. You’ve worked so hard for me.’
‘Been a pleasure. Now you all have a lovely day, and don’t forget old Rowena; come and visit often – me door’s always open.’
‘But you’re staying, aren’t you?’
‘No, thank you kindly, but I’m not comfortable in a place like this. Them’s all right with me while they think I’m a serving woman, but they won’t accept me as a guest.’
Flora was shocked at this. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘I’m black. It’s as simple as that. As long as I don’t overstep the mark in this country, then them’s happy, but if I step over the line drawn, them’s not happy. And I don’t want that on your wedding day, darling girl.’
‘But . . .’
‘Leave it, Flora, lass. We can’t change things. We would only make Rowena unhappy by insisting.’
Aunt Pru’s reaction shocked Flora, but deep down she knew that Pru would never say such a thing if she could help it.
Holding Rowena as if she would never let her go, Flora wallowed in her big arms and the soft hug of her body, fighting the tears. ‘I love you, Rowena. You are one of the nicest people I know.’
‘I know that, honey – well, the bit about you loving me. And I love you. Now, have a happy day. I’ll see you at the church, but that’s as far as I can go. You’ll be telling me all about it when I see you. Well, not all . . .’ Rowena’s happy laughter followed her from the room.
‘I’m sorry, lass, I wanted so much to stand by you and insist, but I know there is a strong possibility that the management would refuse to serve Rowena, and I didn’t want that embarrassment for her – or for you. Now, put it out of your mind. Rowena has long since accepted her lot, so you can an’ all.’
Although Flora was blissfully happy throughout the proceedings at the church – a cold, huge but beautiful place that seemed to swallow up the four of them – and at the wedding breakfast around the same table that she and Cyrus had first eaten at together, the incident stayed with her. It was one she couldn’t understand, and she would do all she could to change it. But what that could be, she didn’t yet know. There was a war raging, and people were more concerned with that than with social justice. But maybe after the war . . . Maybe then she could try to right the injustice of the way in which black people were treated.
‘Well, Flora, I must say, you look stunning. A prettier bride I couldn’t wish for. I only wish my mother was here to see you. I’ve written to her and hope she understands. I told her that once the war is over, we will have a proper affair, so that she can invite all her friends to it and introduce you to the rest of our family.’
‘That would be lovely, and thank you for the compliment, darling.’
‘Shall we raise our glasses? To my new family, and to us – and to absent friends.’
Flora giggled, and happiness glowed from her as they clinked their glasses.
Aunt Pru spoke next. ‘And me and Freddy raise our glasses to you both, and welcome you, Cyrus. By, lad, you’re a lovely addition to our lot.’
They all laughed.
‘I don’t even know what your mother looks like, Cyrus. Are you sure she won’t be cross, and blame me for us marrying so quickly?’
‘No, Mother’s a bit of a bohemian; anything is acceptable. I have a picture of her.’
Dressed in a flowing, many-layered frock, Olivia – as Cyrus told them his mother was called – looked like someone Flora would like very much. Her pose was impish, and her face held a cheeky smile that spoke of someone who loved a lot of what life had to offer.
Olivia looked so much younger than Flora’s own mother, whose beauty had faded under the pinched-up sourness that had taken root in her. Cyrus’s mother was graceful, like a ballet dancer. Any fear of meeting her, or of how she would accept what had happened, left Flora as she gazed at her new mother-in-law.
‘I’ll send her some photos of today. I know she will love you, darling. All of you.’
For a moment Flora thought of all that was going on and wondered if Olivia would be accepting of her son’s involvement with her and Aunt Pru. But the feel of Cyrus’s hand taking hold of hers, and of him leaning close to her, stopped these thoughts. ‘Won’t be long now, darling.’ These words, whispered into her neck, sent a shiver of anticipation and a little fear through her. But no, she was being silly. Not knowing what to do didn’t mean it would go wrong. Cyrus would guide her, and she was sure it would all come naturally, as she wanted nothing more than to give herself fully to him.
‘Well, it’s time me and Freddy got on our way. Eeh, I’m that excited, going to the theatre. That were thoughtful of you, Cyrus, getting them tickets. It would have been a let-down to us, after such an exciting day, to have nothing to follow it.’
‘I’ve asked for the cab to pick you up at five-thirty, so enjoy it, both of you.’
‘And wrap up warm – it’s freezing out there.’
Aunt Pru’s smile made Flora blush. It came with a knowing nod. She smiled back, and then found herself in Aunt Pru’s arms. ‘Me little lass. I’m that happy for you.’
As Aunt Pru released her, Flora could see that her emotions were about to spill over, but Freddy stepped in. ‘Come on, Ma. I can’t wait to get to the Palace; we don’t want to be late.’ With this, there was a quick peck from Freddy, which she turned into a hug, much to his extreme embarrassment, and they were gone.
‘Just us two now, darling. They’ll have a wonderful time – don’t worry about them. I thought it might have given us all an awkward moment if I didn’t arrange something specific for them.’
‘It was a genius idea, Cyrus. As you say, it would have been uncomfortable, with them just having a bedroom to go to, and none of us knowing how to bring the proceedings to an end. Now they are excited to have a second event to look forward to, and we have each other.’
‘We do, Mrs Harpinham.’ With this, Cyrus stood and, taking Flora’s hand, helped her to rise. It gave her a moment when the enormity of what she had done hit her.
Mags and Ella came to her mind, and she wondered what they would think when they received the letters she’d sent to them: You know that man we met on the frontier? Well, I’m marrying him tomorrow! A giggle bubbled up in her as she imagined their faces; they’d be so shocked, and would have a thousand questions for her.
‘Something amusing you, darling?’
‘Just my thoughts about the reaction of Mags and Ella – the two other nurses with me at the frontier – when they hear about us.’
‘We’ve that to face with everyone; some will say we are mad, and I think we are a little, and others will tut and wait for us to fail, which we won’t. But who cares? Fate brought us together, at a moment that left us no time to do things the conventional way, courting for a couple of years. So, here we are.’
These words sent a tremble through her. No time! Please let there be years and years ahead of us.
‘Hey, no glum faces today. I only meant that we are destined to be apart for a time and that we—’
‘Shush! I don’t want to think of that now. We have eight days before you have to report, so let’s enjoy every minute and not talk about the war.’
Without another word, Cyrus guided her through the dining room. Once they were outside his bedroom door and he’d opened it, he bent and lifted her into the air. The shyness that had overcome her vanished with the gesture, as they both burst out laughing. ‘It’s traditional for a man to carry his bride over the threshold.’
‘I know, but through a narrow hotel-room door?’ She scrunched herself up in his arms so that they could get through. Once they were, Cyrus didn’t put her down until they reached the bed. Here, he lowered her gently onto the softest bed she’d ever lain on.
‘Champagne?’
He had thought of everything. A table under the window held two glasses, one on each side of a beautiful arrangement of flowers, and on a stand next to the table stood an ice-bucket holding a bottle of champagne.
The popping of the cork made them giggle once more. But as Cyrus brought the full glasses over to the bed and they linked arms to sip, they became quiet, each looking into the other’s eyes. ‘To our future – a long and happy one.’
As she sipped, these words of Cyrus’s sent a feeling through Flora that turned her heart as heavy as lead, and with it came a premonition that something was going to go wrong. Shaking the feeling from her, she smiled as Cyrus took her glass and lifted her to stand in front of him.
His kiss was gentle at first, but deepened to a passionate one, giving himself to her with every touch of his lips. Moving from her mouth, he kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her hair, then back to her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue, sending thrills through her that had her wanting to beg him to take her.
He gently slid each garment from her body, until she stood naked before him. Nothing of the shyness she thought she would feel visited her. Instead, every part of her felt alive and full of love and need.
Helping him undress was as natural as if she had been doing it all her life.
Looking at him, she found him beautiful. Never before had she thought this of a man’s body as she’d bathed men on their sickbeds, and it had never occurred to her that she ever would, but her Cyrus was beautiful. His skin wasn’t a stark white, as she’d found with many men who never exposed themselves to the sun, but a lovely tanned colour. He had just a small tuft of hair between his contoured chest, and his stomach was flat. As her eyes took in his desire of her, her own need increased to the point where she cried out as he held her and lowered them both to the bed. There Cyrus took in every part of her, with his eyes, his lips and his hands. ‘Oh, my darling. You’re beautiful. I love you.’
With these words, he lifted himself onto her.
The moment was here, and Flora was ready.
The entering of her wasn’t without pain. Cyrus helped this with his gentleness, and his words of love. But the pain didn’t last, and soon she took Cyrus fully into her and felt a joy sweep over her. And now she wanted to give to him. Holding him close, she moved with him, increasing her own feelings of deep pleasure, which grew into an urgency she couldn’t deny. When the urgency reached its peak, she heard herself holler Cyrus’s name over and over, as her very soul fragmented, then came together to make her complete.
Feeling his lips kiss her face, and his tongue lick her neck and breasts, she relaxed. This she knew instinctively was a time he needed – an abandonment to his own pleasure, his own fulfilment. When it came, he called her name in a moan that spoke of his soul releasing itself to her.
They clung together afterwards. Their sweat mingled, their bodies trembled. Life had just begun for them both.
Was it too exquisite to last? This thought trembled through Flora as she held her Cyrus. Don’t let it be . . . Please God, keep my Cyrus safe.