‘You sure are full of surprises, Missy! My, you mean it? Me and my old man can move into this lovely house and stay forever?’
‘I mean it, Rowena. I’m going away. I can’t tell you where, because I don’t know yet, but it is going to be in France. I just haven’t settled on where in France. No one must know. Not a soul. I am only telling my closest friends, of which you are one. I will miss you, Rowena.’
‘I’m going to be missing you, too. But I hope as you’re taking the lovely Cyrus with you. You two are made to be together.’
Thankfully, before she could answer, a knock on the front door interrupted them. ‘I’ll get it, honey, you have work to do. It’ll probably be someone trying to sell something.’
‘Thank you, Rowena. I’ll pop upstairs and make a start. Is Freddy asleep?’
‘He is – he’s been one little monkey today.’
Reaching the landing, Flora stopped in her progress towards her bedroom, as a familiar voice came to her.
‘What are you doing in my sister’s house, black woman?’
Harold?
‘And who are you to ask me that? And, for your information, I know I’m black – you don’t need to tell me that I am, Mister.’
‘Step aside, you filthy negress.’
‘I’m as clean as the day I was born, Mister. And I ain’t stepping aside until I knows who you are and what your business is here.’
‘It’s all right, Rowena, it’s my brother. Let him in.’
‘Oh, one of them as cast you out? Well, that ain’t nothing to be proud of, and none of us black folk would do such a thing.’
‘Rowena, Freddy is crying – please go to him, love. I’ll take my brother through to the kitchen.’
‘The kitchen! Hasn’t this awful place got a withdrawing room?’
‘I have a front room, but I wouldn’t allow you to step inside it, Harold, as it is where my daughter died, and you would taint her memory with your presence.’
‘Charming! I see your pregnancy is showing. Good God, Flora, you should be ashamed of yourself. With your own brother! Disgusting.’
‘You have done all you can to me on that score, Harold, so there is nothing more you can hurt me with. I know you gave the story to the paper, thinking that I would be hounded out. Well, it didn’t happen. My neighbours are good people, and they believed me when I told them the truth of Cyrus and me not knowing. And the masses didn’t take up the story, so it didn’t go further than London. A failed operation, I would say.’
‘Worth a try. I would do anything to bring you and that so-called “brother” of ours to your knees.’
‘We know that.’
‘I know you are still seeing him.’
‘I have to. He is my guardian, so to speak, as Father made him so.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘You are mistaken, and if that is all you have come for, I think you should leave.’
‘It isn’t. We are selling the parents’ house. And there is the question of Francis. His mental state is worsening and, as his sister, you should take responsibility for him. I want to bring him and his things here – you must have room.’
‘That’s not possible, Harold. Did Mother leave a Will?’
‘I told you that she did, and there was nothing for you; you aren’t even mentioned.’
‘I didn’t expect to be. Is Francis joint beneficiary?’
‘Of course, why?’
‘And has he agreed to the sale, knowing that he will be homeless? Won’t he have enough to buy himself a place, or enough to rent somewhere?’
‘He is too ill for that. And I have power of attorney over him, so I can sell the house without his say-so. You don’t know what he has been like, since he came home from war. He has shaking and screaming fits. He runs around naked in the garden. He digs trenches; he wakes the household at night with his nightmares. The staff have coped admirably with it all. But, after the sale, I am going north to live, and then Mags and I will be married. I can’t take Francis with me. You have to have him.’
Flora was shocked to hear just how bad Francis’s condition was, as she hadn’t considered it. But she couldn’t take care of him. She couldn’t give up her plans for him. None of them could ask that of her. ‘I refuse. You will have to find a home for him.’
‘You callous bitch! This is your brother you are talking about.’
‘Neither of you has been a brother to me for a long time, and I owe you nothing. Nothing! Do you hear me? I don’t care if I never see either of you again.’
To her surprise, Harold slumped into the chair next to the fire. ‘How did it come to this, Flora? How did we let our parents divide us in this way?’
‘Because you wanted it all. You are like Father, and you sacrificed our relationship to make up to Mother and Father. But it didn’t happen the way you planned it, and now you are jealous of me, and of Cyrus; and you are plotting all the time to wreak revenge on us. It has all gone sour for you. If I had my way, I wouldn’t give you what Cyrus is planning to.’
‘And you are all Mother said you were. I offer you an olive branch, and you shove it right back in my face. Mags is going to be very upset. She hoped we could be friends, but she just doesn’t know you.’
The realization came to Flora that, from the moment Harold had sat down, he’d decided on different tactics. He’d tried the ‘I’m really a loving brother’ act before and hadn’t meant it, and it wasn’t going to work this time.
‘I doubt that’s true. Mags knows me far better than you do. Anyway, what about Francis – will you put him in a home? There are some good private ones for officers who are impaired, physically or mentally, due to their war service. He can afford to pay for himself, and he will be much better cared for by professionals than by me, here.’
‘I’ve tried that, but he refuses. Would you at least come and talk to him? He may listen to you.’
Flora was afraid to do this. Afraid that she would weaken, if faced with Francis’s plight. Going to France was the only hope she and Cyrus had. She had to resist this emotional blackmail. But her heart ruled her head and, reluctantly, she arranged for Rowena to stay a little longer, and donned her coat and went with Harold.
‘Is Mags still at the house?’
‘No, she has gone home. She is very upset and fragile over what happened, and I am anxious to get to her.’
‘Poor Mags; in some ways she is very strong, but in others she can become almost childlike.’
‘Has this happened before? You seem to know a lot about how she is feeling.’
‘We went through a lot together, that’s all; there were some very bad situations, and we all had breakdowns at times.’
Flora stared out of the window of the car, willing herself to be strong. She had to resist, no matter how much Francis needed her. He had to be persuaded to go into a home, if he was as ill as Harold described; it was the only way.
Flames lit the night as if it were day, as they turned into the street where the house stood. ‘Harold, that’s our house. Oh God, it’s on fire!’
‘That bloody idiot! Christ, I didn’t believe he’d do it.’
‘What do you mean – Francis? Did he threaten to do this?’
‘Yes, the stupid bugger. Francis said that rather than sell the only home he had, he would burn it to the ground.’
‘You pig, Harold! You forced him. He was of sound enough mind to refuse to sell. How could you? No wonder his condition has worsened. Well, Francis has had the last laugh.’
‘Only if he isn’t in the house. If he is, then I will laugh all the way to the bank, with Mother’s trust fund and the insurance money – and no more mad Francis to bother me.’
‘You’re vile. Vile! I’m ashamed to be related to you.’
Harold laughed as he pulled up outside the house. ‘Lovely blaze – well done, Francis. Good job.’
As they got out of the car Flora screamed at him, ‘For God’s sake, we have to check if Francis is safe, and get someone to go for the firefighters. And what if the staff are trapped? This isn’t about you and your gains. People could die! Francis could—’
‘Oh God, no . . . I hadn’t thought. Susan! No, not my darling Susan!’
Flora felt as if she would collapse. History was repeating itself. The saying ‘like father, like son’ was coming true. She’d been sure Susan and Harold were continuing their relationship, and now she knew they were. And his mistress meant more to him than the safety of his own brother. A sick feeling took hold of her. She wanted to claw at Harold, to make him realize the path he was taking and how much pain it would cause, but she had no time to deal with that now.
‘Get back into your car and go for the firefighters, Harold. Quickly!’
A distant clanging of bells stopped him. ‘Sounds like someone already did that. I’ll go round the back to see if anyone got out.’
Flora followed him, the heat from the burning inferno scorching her face.
‘Oh, Master Harold and Miss Flora. Oh, thank God!’
‘Cook, is there anyone in the house?’
‘M – Master Francis, he – he . . . Oh God, he smashed things, then he set fire to the furniture, and it all went up so quickly. I – I tried to stop him, but it was no use. I screamed to everyone to get out, but no one has come out this way, and I couldn’t get back in. I sent the gardener’s boy running for the firefighters.’
Flora took hold of Cook and held her shaking body to her. She couldn’t speak to try and comfort her, as her own fear was strangling her.
But Harold’s reaction was what she would expect. ‘Never mind all of that: where is Susan?’
‘I – I don’t know.’
Anger gave Flora her strength back. ‘There’s more than just Susan to worry about, Harold. Cook, how many staff were there in—’
Screams of ‘Help me. Help, I’m up here!’ stopped Flora from saying any more. Susan appeared at an upstairs window. ‘Help me, Harold. Help me!’
Her desperate plea spurred Flora into action. ‘Get the ladder from the garage, Harold – hurry.’
‘What? No . . . no, wait, the bells are louder now; the firefighters will be here any moment. Leave it to them.’
‘That may be too late. Look at the flames around Susan. Please, Harold, I’m not asking you to go up to her. I’ll do that – just fetch the ladder!’
To Flora’s despair, her cowardly brother stared back at her, and she realized that his fear had frozen him and she’d have to take charge. ‘Cook, come with me. Come on! We can carry the ladder between us.’
Thankfully, Harold had left the garage door open. And as it was a separate building from the house, it wasn’t in danger of catching fire. The inside of the garage was lit by the flames, helping them to locate the ladder quickly.
‘You grab that end, Cook, and I’ll get the other.’
When they reached the house, Susan could no longer be seen.
‘Oh no. Help us, Harold, help us.’ Still Harold didn’t move. ‘We’ll have to do it ourselves, Cook. Put the ladder on the ground, then we’ll get hold of the middle section and lift it into place. That’s it; now, hold it steady while I go up.’
‘No. Please don’t, Miss Flora. Harold should do it. You may harm yourself, or your baby.’
Flora didn’t have time to try to persuade Harold, but lifted her skirt, thanking God for the new fashion of shorter clothes, and headed up the ladder. The heat was unbearable. Smoke stung her eyes and made her cough, but she wouldn’t give up. ‘Susan? Susan, can you hear me? I have a ladder. Come on, Susan – please make a last effort. Please.’
Susan’s head appeared, her coughs pitiful to hear.
‘Climb out. I’ll steady your footing, then I’ll stay behind you to guide you down. You can do it, Susan. You can!’ Susan sat on the ledge and swung one foot out. ‘Turn around, as you have to come down backwards – that’s right, good girl.’
Praying that Cook could hold the ladder steady, Flora guided Susan’s foot down to a rung.
‘That’s it, Susan. Now the other one; you can put your weight on this foot, as you’re on a rung of the ladder.’ Susan managed to get her other leg out. ‘Now, I’ll lift your foot and put it on the next rung. This foot that I am tapping now.’
Three rungs had been negotiated when the ladder slipped. Flora screamed out, ‘Ha . . . rold, help us!’ The ladder slipped again. Susan screamed. ‘Hold on, Susan, but keep still.’ The clanging of bells now drowned Flora’s words. ‘Oh, thank God!’
The ladder slipped again, this time more than it had done previously. Instinctively, Flora put her hand out and grabbed at the ivy clinging to the wall. It came with her, but then stopped. She clung on, praying to the God she had long thought had forsaken her.
‘Grab the ivy, Susan. It needs the strength of us both to hold the ladder still.’
‘I can’t. I can’t take my hands off or I’ll fall.’
Below them, Flora could see firefighters running towards the ladder. But too late, for the weight of Susan was too much for her to stop the slide. Flora’s grip on the ivy loosened and the ground came hurtling towards her. Her scream merged with the blackness that seized her.