It seemed to Flora that her Aunt Pru had shrunk. Her body was bent over, and her stature was that of a woman in her sixties rather than one approaching her forties. Never an overweight person, Pru had little fat that she could afford to lose, but the pain of her loss had ravished her body and left her almost skeletal.
They clung together on the station. Flora had been surprised to see Pru there, waiting to meet her.
‘I couldn’t go another minute, Flora, without seeing you. Rowena is watching Alice. By, she’s grown, and she’s crawling everywhere and into everything.’
‘I shouldn’t have left – I know that now. I could only see my own pain and wanted to rid myself of it, but I haven’t. I’ve added to it.’
‘I’m glad you went. My Freddy didn’t die alone, like them other poor lads you told me of. That gave me a lot of comfort to know that he was in your arms, lass.’
‘Dear Aunt Pru, I’m so sorry. So very sorry.’
‘Aye. Well, don’t start me blubbing here, lass. Let’s get home. Little Alice needs us, and we need her. She’s kept me going, I can tell you. Without her to care for, I’d have gone mad.’
They linked arms and walked through the usual crowd of young soldiers and older ones, and wives kissing them goodbye. Flora couldn’t think about what they all had to face. She just wanted to get home.
When they reached Rowena’s house, Flora’s heart was in her mouth. ‘Do you think Alice will know me? Will she want to come home with me?’
‘Aye, she’ll know you. I sewed that photo of you onto the tummy of her favourite teddy, and she is always kissing you and saying, “Mama”.’
The tears threatened, but Flora swallowed them down. When the door opened, Rowena stood there, with Alice in her arms. ‘Well, you’re home, love, and welcome – so welcome. We’ve missed you. Look, Alice: Mama.’
Alice held her head down shyly. Her eyes looked up into Flora’s face. Flora wanted to grab her and hold her to her, but she waited. Alice looked from her teddy to Flora and then whispered, ‘Mama?’
‘Yes, darling. Mama’s back.’
Alice put her arms out and stretched towards her. Dropping her bag, Flora took hold of her. ‘I’m sorry, my darling, so sorry I left you. Forgive me.’ As she spoke, she kissed Alice’s face and neck and cuddled her to her. There was no resistance from her daughter. ‘Oh, Alice, I’m home . . . I’m home.’
Two more pairs of arms came around her, and at that moment she felt so loved. What did it matter that her parents had rejected her – what did any of it matter? She had a family; she had the best family she could possibly have.
‘I’m staying at yours, Flora.’ They were in a cab on the way to Flora’s home. ‘I’ve looked after it all for you, and I took me bedding over these last three weeks, to get Alice used to being in her own home again. But I can’t go back to my own place, not yet. I want to stay with you.’
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way, Aunt Pru. We need each other.’
‘I’ll want to hear all about how me Freddy went, but not yet. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.’
Flora didn’t answer; she only hoped that when Pru was ready, she would be, too.
‘There’s a surprise for you on the table, when you get in.’
‘Oh, Aunt Pru, have you been baking?’
‘Naw. I’ve not done owt like that since I heard. Though I’ve fed Alice of course, and taken care of all her needs.’
‘You have to eat, dear Aunt Pru, you have to build your strength up.’
‘I can’t. Me lovely Freddy can’t, so I can’t.’
A tear fell silently down Aunt Pru’s face. All Flora could do was to squeeze her hand, as the sleeping Alice held her arms captive.
The surprise on the table made Flora squeal with joy, like she thought she would never squeal again. There was a pile of letters, tied with a red ribbon.
‘Shush, now, you’ll wake Alice from her nap, and she can be a grumpy thing if she doesn’t have her sleep.’
Flora’s breath caught in her lungs. ‘Tell me that they are what I think they are, Aunt Pru!’
‘Aye. They are. They all came together, about five days ago. They were tied with string, but I found that bit of ribbon. Give Alice to me, and you take the letters to your room. I’ll put her in her cot and make us a pot of tea.’
Sitting on her bed, Flora kissed the bundle before untying it. She checked the postage, but there were no clues as to which one to read first, so she opened them all and spread them out. The first had been written just after Cyrus’s capture and told of his anguish, not for himself, but for her. He said the camp was not fully built and they were to work on building it, but he welcomed that, as he wanted to be busy.
Later letters showed how he was counting the months to the birth of their child, and then that he knew the birth had taken place and longed for news.
The next one told her that he’d received her parcel, and how his heart had swelled to know that he was the father of a baby girl.
None of them told her much about his life, except for the boredom that he suffered, and the agony of not being with her. But they all spoke of his love. And so beautifully expressed that she could almost hear his voice.
‘Oh, Cyrus. My Cyrus.’ With the letters held to her breast, she could feel him in the room with her. Though she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry and cry, she gained strength from them. She had a job to do. She had to help Aunt Pru, and she had to be a mother to Alice – a proper mother, nothing like her own mother – and never going away and leaving her again. A tinge of shame coloured her cheeks. How had she made such a decision, and what would Cyrus think of her?
She’d make it up to Alice, and to Aunt Pru. And she would beg Cyrus to forgive her for abandoning their child.
In the days that followed, getting to know her little girl gave Flora the lift she needed, but her worry for her Aunt Pru increased. More than once she’d heard her vomiting and had rushed to her side.
‘You have to go to the doctor, Aunt Pru, I’m worried out of my mind about you.’
‘It’s me grief, lass. From the moment that envelope came, I’ve felt ill. Before that, I was fine and nothing ailed me.’
‘It could be the shock and, like you say, your grief. I have a sick feeling inside me, and have had since it all happened, but for you it is much worse. And you’re not eating, love. You’re not getting any sustenance. You need to have a check-up. Between us, we can afford to have the doctor call on you.’
They hadn’t discussed money since she’d returned, but there was a worry niggling away at Flora. On her visit to the bank, she had found that her funds were very much depleted. She’d arranged for Aunt Pru to collect a weekly sum to keep her and Alice while she was away, and knew that she had to keep taking care of Aunt Pru for a while, as she couldn’t possibly work to take care of herself.
At least the Red Cross owed her a few months’ salary. And she had her allowance from Cyrus’s army pay to collect, so maybe things wouldn’t be too bad, but she would have to consider getting a job. That couldn’t be nursing. She knew she could never do that again. But if not that, then what else was there for her? Her music maybe? There must be a way to earn a shilling or two playing the piano.
She was jolted out of these thoughts by Aunt Pru’s sobs. ‘Oh, my dear, let me help you.’
With Aunt Pru leaning heavily on her, they made it to the sofa. Alice looked up from where she was playing on the rug in front of the fire and her bottom lip shook, before she let out a wail, then crawled over and tugged at Flora’s skirt. Lifting her onto her knee while keeping Aunt Pru supported wasn’t easy.
‘Aunt Pru is not feeling well, darling, Mummy needs to help her.’
Alice offered her teddy to Aunt Pru, who took it and held it close to her breast, rocking backwards and forwards.
‘Talk to me, dear Aunt Pru. Would you like to hear how Freddy died? Would that help you?’
‘Yes, tell me what happened, lass.’
Missing out the part that haunted her – Freddy saying he didn’t want to die – Flora told of how he was in her arms, and how he said that he loved her. And she added to what she knew he would have said, if he’d had time. ‘His last words were “Tell Ma I love her.”’
‘Oh, my Freddy, my Freddy . . .’
Flora held Aunt Pru with her one free arm.
‘What made me lad die? I – I mean, what was the cause – how was he hurt?’
This Flora had dreaded. But she knew that she would want to know, as knowing as she did gave her peace, thinking that she wouldn’t have wanted Freddy to live, just to suffer all his life. Once more she left out what she thought would be too much for Aunt Pru, and told her how Freddy had died of a massive haemorrhage that had covered her with his blood.
‘H – his legs . . . Oh, Aunt Pru, I’m sorry, but they did all they could. Ella was his nurse, you remember her? My friend, who I met in Belgium and again at Moorfields? She loved Freddy, and Freddy loved her, but she couldn’t save him.’
‘Eeh, Flora, the letter said that he was one of the bravest young men his officer had ever known, and a very nice, willing and pleasant young man. He said me Freddy would be getting a posthumous medal for gallantry, as he took actions that saved his friends, but he didn’t say what, he just said, “Above and beyond the call of duty.” That makes me proud.’
‘I didn’t know that. That’s our Freddy, eh? Always thinking of others. We’re going to miss him.’
‘I’d give owt to hear him play his violin once more. And the music he composed.’
‘Would you like me to play some of it on the piano for you, one day? If you dig it all out, I will try to learn it, though composition for a violin is different from a piano.’
‘That would be grand, lass. And I’d like a service for him – a memorial – to help me, as I wasn’t able to be there for his burial.’
‘Yes, that would be a good idea. We’ll set about arranging it. Now, will you let me call out the doctor to examine you, Aunt Pru?’
‘Naw. I think I’ll be reet now, lass. I feel me grief and allus will, but I feel that a peace has settled in me, now that I knaw how Freddy died. You see, I can thank God for taking him, as I wouldn’t want him to suffer for years and years in pain, and not being able to walk; and worrying about him not having someone of his own, as not many lasses would take on a man so badly injured. And to knaw that he were calm and accepting, and able to tell you that he loved us. And to think that you were with him – being me, so to speak – and that the nurse who tended to him loved him an’ all. Aye, it’s all given me a peace, as I were in turmoil, with me imagination showing me horror.’
‘It’s like his doctor said to me: we’re to think of him as lucky that he didn’t die alone. Around us at the time were a dozen or so bodies of young men, and most had died without anyone at their side; and those who did have someone, it was a nurse or a doctor, who they’d never met before.’
‘Aw, their poor mams – what a thought. What a terrible thought. Aye, I’m to think on that, and give thanks. Now, d’yer knaw sommat, lass. I’m hungry. I could eat a scabby cat, I’m that starving.’
Flora laughed. Alice copied her and laughed and clapped her hands.
‘Eeh, me wee one, there’s not a lot to applaud, but there’s sommat, and it’s enough to help me go forward. Shall we have some fish and chips for supper, eh? Our Freddy loved fish and chips for his supper.’
‘Mmm, yes, please. What do you say, Alice?’
‘Mmmm,’ Alice gurgled, and her mimicking of Flora whilst nodding her head had them both laughing.
The queue at Ma Tatley’s house for her fish and chips stretched around the corner of her street, when Flora joined it. Ma Tatley cooked the delicious meal in her front room. She had two huge cast-iron pots full of lard bubbling away, and a bowl of batter on her table. Next to the bowl was a pile of flour, for coating the fish, before she dropped it into the batter and then the hot fat. Her childlike son, Billy, sat next to the table, peeling dozens and dozens of potatoes and cutting them into chips. Sometimes, if there was a child in the queue, he would carve the potato into a face and do a puppet show, mimicking different voices and making everyone laugh.
The air had a nip in it, reminding Flora that winter would soon be upon them. For some unknown reason, she thought of her parents and her brothers. Would they ever know the pleasure of eating fish and chips out of a newspaper wrapping? Would they ever enjoy the delicious smell, or feel the vinegar catch their throat, or chase it down their chin? She doubted it, and she knew in that moment just how much she too would have missed it, if she had been loved by them. Life would have passed her by, too – real life, that is. And she felt glad. Glad to be part of this gossiping queue, and to be accepted by them. Everywhere she went she was welcomed back, and commiserated with; told how much pride they had in her and, yes, asked if she would start up the classes again, as Pru had left them off when the news had come through.
Mrs Larch came towards her. ‘’Ello, love. ’Ow’s Pru?’
‘She’s doing all right, thanks, Mrs Larch. Well, better than all right – she’s hungry, which she hasn’t been for weeks. That’s why I’m here.’
‘’Ere, you lot, let Flora come to the front. Pru’s feeling hungry, and for the first time since . . . well, you all know what ’appened. Shift yourselves.’
‘Oh no, it’s all right, no . . .’
Calls came of ‘Come along, love’ and ‘You’re welcome, you’re our hero’, whilst people moved out of her way and, with their hands on her back, propelled Flora forward.
‘You needn’t, no, really.’ But they were having none of it. Behind her a voice started singing, ‘For she’s a jolly good fellow, for she’s . . .’
Flora blushed, but had a feeling as she smiled at them that all she’d done and all she’d been through had just been made worthwhile.
It was lovely and warm in Ma Tatley’s front room and brightly lit. The woman who had just been served turned. ‘Flora, it’s good to see you.’
‘Hello, Mrs Clark.’
Jostling the bundle of fish and chips in her arms and putting them back on the table, Mrs Clark picked up one of the pieces of newspaper that were ready for wrapping. ‘Look, hold on a minute. I’ve been practising. “The use of tanks at—”’
‘Stop!’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sure.’
‘No. No, I didn’t mean . . . I – I’m very pleased with your progress – you have done me and Pru proud. Well done. It’s just, well, I can’t hear about it, as it brings it back . . . I—’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. Forgive me.’
Impulsively Flora took the woman in her arms. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll heal.’ Mrs Clark was bright red when Flora let her go. Flora was reminded of how she had felt when she’d first met Mags. She laughed. ‘Sorry, we’re not used to showing our affection for each other, are we? We should all move up to the North, they all hug up there.’
A voice said, ‘They ’ave to, they’re all bloody freezing.’
‘Well, I’m freezing now. Give us a hug, Mazie.’
‘Gerroff, Bert Smith, what’s your game?’
Everyone burst into laughter at this. Flora joined in with them and, as she did so, she knew she was one of them, and wanted to be. Forget her posh schooling and having been looked after by maids – that was a cold place to be. Here amongst the cockneys she was loved and welcomed and, yes, needed.
‘I haven’t got all day, yer know. What’s you wanting, Flora?’
‘Two fish and chips, please. Thank you.’
‘And they’re on the house, love. A gift from me. But will you do sommat in return for me?’
‘I will, Mrs Tatley, anything.’
‘Will you teach me son how to play the piano? He loves his grandma’s piano that stands in me back room, and makes a nice sound when he sits at it, but I think he could learn proper notes, and I ’eard as you play.’
‘I would love that.’
‘I’ll pay. I don’t expect you to give your time for nothing.’
Knowing the proud cockney way, and sure that Mrs Tatley could afford it, Flora accepted. ‘We’ll discuss terms when I visit. I’ll pop round tomorrow, when you’re not busy cooking.’
‘Ta, love. And I’ll add all the fish and chips you and Pru want, into the bargain.’
As Flora left, more than one person caught her arm and asked her if she would teach their child, too. Most said they couldn’t afford much, but had a piano in their front room and wanted to hear it played. Flora suspected that the pianos would all need tuning, but she could deal with that later, so she nodded her head and began to feel that maybe she was being taken in the direction that was meant for her – to share her music knowledge with others.
Before she left them, her future seemed set, because other people had asked her to start up the reading lessons again, and many more than had previously attended were saying they too wanted to learn. As she said goodbye, she told them that she would be in touch soon and would put a notice on the church-hall door, as to when lessons would be.
Walking home, holding the warm fish and chips close to her body, Flora felt a little more secure about the future, and her mind returned to her family and the privileges they had. And she knew that she would never want to go back. But she would ask Aunt Pru to find out from Cook how they all were. A part of her needed to know that.
It was a few weeks before she found out. Preparations were well under way for Christmas when Cook paid them a visit. It was good to see her, to find that she’d often thought of Flora and to hear her say, ‘All the staff that knew you are always asking me to get news from Pru about you. It hurt us a lot, how you were treated.’
Flora listened with shock to find out that, only two weeks ago, Harold had been conscripted.
‘But you know him, he got out of it. None of us know how or why.’
This was typical of Harold. ‘And Francis, is he abroad?’
‘Yes, he’s been in France for some time. Your mother has took to her bed and refuses to get up. Your father is weak in his body now, as well as in his mind . . . Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss. I—’
‘No, it’s all right. Don’t worry. My father is a weak man, but tell me more about his health: how does he manage?’
‘He has a man to look after him. Mr Symans. He lost three of his fingers in the Boer War, and since then has been working as a manservant in various houses. He tells us that he was always ridiculed for his affliction, so he looked for a position in a smaller household. He quietly lords it over us all. But he’s not a bad man, and he thinks a lot of your father. He takes him for walks in a bath chair, and goes with him two days a week when your father insists on going into the office.’
All of this made Flora feel sad. She wished she could help her father with his businesses and be of some comfort to her mother, but she wouldn’t dwell on it. She had made up her mind where she belonged and, unless they asked for her help, she would never go back.
Not having heard from Mags for a long time, she asked, ‘Has Harold or Francis taken up with a young lady?’
‘Not that I know of. Mr Harold spends most of his time up in the North, so he may have a girlfriend there, but I don’t know.’
This concerned Flora, because although she knew Harold made frequent visits up north, he hadn’t ever spent most of his time there. He was bound to have been in contact with Mags, as they had got on so well. Flora wondered if she would rue the day that she had introduced them.
As Cook left, she promised to come again. ‘And I’ll tell them all back there how well you are, and how lovely little Alice is. And, Prudence, I know they will all be sorry to hear your sad news.’
‘Aye, well, tell them all thanks, and give them me regards.’
As she closed the door on Cook, Flora turned to Aunt Pru. ‘Ha, we have a spy in the camp. Though it seems a bit underhand, but you know, Pru, something in me still wants to know how they all are.’
‘Blood’s thicker than water, lass. It’s only natural. What ain’t natural is how they don’t seem to want to bother about you. That breaks me heart. But then they don’t knaw what they’re missing. Come here and give me a hug.’
In Aunt Pru’s arms Flora found the comfort she had always found, and a soothing of the pain caused by being rejected by her family. A hurt that she tried to deny, but knew was always there.
With Aunt Pru, and with her little Alice, she was almost complete. If only the war would end and my Cyrus would come home.