Roland & Flo
Coming to Terms
Roland sat opposite Frazer. His mind took many turns as he listened to his friend and lawyer drone on about how they could lodge an appeal.
‘I don’t want to appeal, Frazer. I know I was upset when I pleaded guilty, but I can’t go through all that again.’
‘But look at you – and your face. I can’t protect you in here. I’ve tried, but the wardens just say that you fell over. You’re being mistreated, and I can’t bear it.’
‘Don’t worry. I have four months under my belt now and it’s getting easier. I’ve started to hold a class for those who can’t read and write, and some of them are warming to me. Besides, there’s talk of a few of the younger ones, who are the worst aggressors, being released to active service, so that will improve things for me, too.’
‘Roland, you can’t keep punishing yourself for Simon’s death – it wasn’t your fault. You said yourself how careful you were in public. What happened is more than likely down to that person you spoke about who worked for Simon.’
Pain stabbed at Roland’s heart at the mention of Simon’s name. Frazer must have seen it, as he hung his head for a moment.
‘My dear friend, I can’t bear to see you like this. You know how I feel about you, and it breaks me in two to see you here and in this state.’
‘Don’t . . . I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be. Nor will I ever feel safe again. I’d rather stay single and live a bachelor’s life. I can’t even think about another relationship.’
‘I’m sorry. I never meant to mention my feelings. I . . . Don’t shut me out because of them, Roland. They have been there since we were at school together, you know that. I have carried on all these years, and I can shut down and carry on forever, if I have to.’
‘Why don’t you find someone else, Frazer? Don’t wait for me. You may wait forever.’
‘If that’s what it takes. Anyway, a solicitor from down south has been in touch again. Your friend, Florence, is desperate to come and see you. Why don’t you let her?’
‘All right. When I’m next allowed a visitor, I will see her. I think I’m ready to deal with doing so now.’
‘Good. It will do you good to see someone other than me, and will let me off the hook. Seeing you, and not being able to be more to you, is tearing me in half.’
‘Oh, Frazer, I’m sorry. Who knows what will happen in the future?’
‘Is that you offering me the crumbs off your table?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
When Frazer had left, Roland went back to his cell. Life was complicated. Over these last months the only person from outside the prison that he’d see had been Frazer, and he did have some small feeling for him, but he had to be sure that feeling was worth nurturing. Maybe it was just a thread of the lifeline that Frazer offered to him and would snap the moment he tried to grasp it fully. He didn’t know.
‘Here, nancy boy, my shoes want cleaning. But no, you’re not fit to spit on them, so I won’t bother you after all.’ A hideous laughter echoed down the corridor. Something snapped in Roland; he’d had enough. Max Brown, the prison bully, had made the remark and had come out of his cell to bar his way.
‘Move out of my way.’
‘Huh, ponce – are you going to make me, then?’ The huge man stomped towards Roland, fists clenched, aggression and hate making his ugly face uglier.
Roland stood his ground, wishing he’d taken more notice of the martial-arts classes offered at his school. But he had enjoyed boxing and had been rather good at it. He raised his fists. Max stopped in his tracks. His head went back, and his laughter echoed once more off the walls. Sweat rolled down Roland’s back. Heads appeared out of open cell doors. Roland attacked, catching Max off-guard and landing a heavy punch to his stomach. Max leaned forward, staring Roland out, his mouth twisted. The punch had hardly tickled him. Roland hated his own next move, but saw no other way. He lifted his foot and sunk it deep into Max’s groin. Max’s huge body curled and fell onto the floor. Squeals that a woman would be proud of emitted from his slobbering mouth. Roland stepped over him and walked, with as much dignity as he could muster, towards his cell.
A cheer went up that deafened Roland. The sound scared him rather than lifted him. Max would want revenge and there would be reprisals, but whatever they were, he’d have to take them and deal with them as they happened. Though the men showing appreciation would make things worse, for Max had his pride to regain. Roland shivered with fear as to how that would happen.
Sitting on his bed, he held his head in his hands. His thoughts took on the guise of a flickering film, as events from the past visited him, then left him before he had time to grasp hold of any. Most of them held Simon. And Lucinda and Flo. Now there was only him and Flo left. Seeing her would be so painful. How had she coped? How had Simon’s family coped?
The click of his cell door woke him, when he hadn’t been aware of falling asleep. A strange silence pervaded the usually noisy, echoing prison. Roland saw a pair of knees first. His eyes travelled up the huge body standing close to his bed. Max. Oh God!
‘Think yourself the big man, do yer? Think you can mess with the likes of me, eh?’
Roland thought quickly as he stood up and faced Max. ‘No, I don’t. I’m no match for you and I apologize for using such underhand tactics, which are against the Queensberry Rules, but I hope you will understand that, although weaker than you, I had to fight back. And as that makes us even, maybe we can put all animosity behind us and try to get on together.’
To Roland’s surprise, Max put out his hand. Wary of taking it for a moment, Roland froze. ‘Take me hand, and take me heart, man. Anyone who can fight back like you did deserves some respect. I ain’t liking what you are, but we’ve both got our time to do and we can do it in peace, if you’ll take me hand.’
Nervous to do so, but nervous not to, Roland took Max’s hand and gave it a firm shake.
Then he was surprised as Max said, ‘You teach folk to read, don’t yer?’
‘I do, Max, and I’ll gladly teach you, if you would like me to.’
‘I would. And I’ll offer you protection, as payment for your trouble. I envy them as can get a book out of the library and lose themselves in it for a few hours a day. It must make the time go more quickly.’
‘Sit down, Max.’ Roland indicated the end of his bed. He could do with sitting down himself as his legs were shaking. Taking a seat next to Max, he noticed the big man move further away. He smiled inwardly at this and wanted to say, Don’t worry, I don’t fancy you, mate. But instead he outlined what the lessons entailed and explained that he only had a Friday afternoon free to fit Max in.
After Max had left, the bell rang out for the evening meal. It was a time Roland had dreaded every day of his incarceration. A time when he was prodded with forks, tripped up or had his head shoved into his food. Or, even worse than that, on occasions had his food spat into. However, he had no choice but to attend the dining hall. Such events were compulsory and were supervised by more than one bully of a warden.
As he entered the hall, a hush descended. Keeping his head down – to make eye contact was considered the worst of the bad sins you could commit in this place – Roland made it to the counter. A good-sized portion of mashed potato was slapped onto his tin plate, followed by a good helping of hot stew, more food than he’d ever been given before. As he walked down the aisle between the long wooden tables, no one stopped his progress or tried to hurt him, and when he sat down in his allotted place, none of those already seated moved away or began making snide remarks. Relief flooded through Roland. So much so that his guard slipped and for a moment he struggled not to cry.
Though no one spoke directly to him, he had the feeling that he could join in with the conversation if he wanted to. He didn’t. The discussion was about the marine engineer, George Johnson Armstrong. It seemed he’d lost his appeal against his sentence to hang, and a date in early July, almost three weeks from now, had been set for his execution. The general opinion was that no one was going to remain silent, as was usual when these events took place, as the convicted man had been in contact with the Germans and had offered them assistance. He’d been found guilty of treachery.
This repulsed Roland, and he felt glad the man was getting his just deserts, though a part of him felt some compassion about how the fellow was feeling tonight, as he pondered on his last weeks on earth. The thought sent a shudder through his body.
Life at the prison settled down and Roland was at last feeling that he could cope. Two weeks had now passed – a time during which, true to his word, Max had given him protection and not a single incident had occurred. Roland was feeling better health-wise, too, as he ate regular meals that hadn’t been interfered with, and he hadn’t endured any painful punishments for being who he was. At last he felt able to see Flo.
The men in the line of prisoners waiting for visitors stood to attention. Though they were quiet, as none wanted to risk being sent back to their cell without having their visit, there was a tangible air of excitement that Roland felt he could almost touch. He was experiencing it himself, and a surge went through him as the line moved forward and through the open door into the visiting hall.
Flo stood looking anxious, scrutinizing each face as the line of men came through. Roland saw her before she saw him. When her eyes alighted on him, her face lit up. By the time they sat down, her eyes were glistening with tears. Roland swallowed hard.
‘Oh, Roland, how are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ he lied. He wanted so much to hold her. To sit by her and lay his head on her chest and weep. He swallowed again.
‘You look well. Better than I expected.’ Stilted, nervous conversation. Oh, where has the easy rapport that we used to have gone?
‘Flo . . .’
‘Roland . . .’
They spoke together. Flo giggled. ‘Eeh, we’re acting like two strangers.’
‘I know. Tell me what you’ve been doing, or is all your life happening within four walls of secrecy?’
‘Naw, I’ve been mixed up with gangsters!’
‘What?’ It was Roland’s turn to be amused. Though that amusement turned to worry as Flo related her story.
‘My God, Flo, can I not leave you for a few months that you don’t get into trouble?’
‘Ha, it doesn’t look like it. But all’s well now. The gang are on remand in Brixton, and we’ve been told that none of them will see the light of day again. Sadly, Molly’s dad is also on remand and looking at ten years at least, but he isn’t well. He did redeem himself a bit, though, as he had already signed over his property to Molly. There wasn’t much money, as that was all seized, but at least she has a home and she’s given one to Ruby, an’ all. They’ve to decide what war work they want to do before they’re directed somewhere. They don’t want to be separated again.’
‘Good, I’m glad your friends are settled. Now what about you? I’ve heard enough about the waifs and strays you’ve been picking up and assisting. What about your life?’
‘Oh, I’ve been doing some amateur dramatics, with me mate. She and I share a flat. She’s lovely. And . . . Well, I – I think I’m in love.’
‘But that’s wonderful. Tell me.’ Roland saw Flo’s face light up. His heart bled the agony of the love he’d lost, but he squashed that feeling and concentrated on being happy for Flo. ‘Well, he sounds nice. I might pinch him from you when I get out of here.’
Flo laughed, a lovely sound that reverberated around the room and had many eyes falling upon them. A silence fell, when she composed herself. Both knew they were skirting around what they so wanted to talk about – Simon – but both knew they daren’t, not here. That had to wait until Roland was released.
A bell rang. Roland’s heart sank. Somehow, now that he’d been with Flo, he didn’t know how he was going to face the next eighteen months. ‘Come again soon, Flo.’
‘I will. I’m off up to Leeds after I leave here. Art is taking me. I haven’t seen Mrs Leary for such a long time. All me time’s been taken up with Molly and Pauline, and Ruby. But they’re all safe now, so I can come on me next leave, if you can arrange it for me.’
‘Thank you, Flo. I’ll talk to my lawyer. You may know him, Frazer Turner, of Turner and Turner, in Leeds?’
‘Naw. I knaw of him, but I don’t mix in them circles. Or at least I didn’t until you introduced me to . . . Oh, I’m sorry, I—’
Roland ignored this. ‘Will you write to me? I’ve been given the privilege of receiving one letter a month. I – I have no one else.’
‘Eeh, I’d love to. I’ve a lot I can tell you.’
‘Don’t talk about – well, you know. I can only deal with it by locking it all away. If I gave way in here, it . . . Let’s just say this is a place where everyone has to be manly to survive.’
‘I won’t. I can’t. I’m the same. I haven’t let all that surface. I know it has to one day. But . . .’
‘I understand. Goodbye, Flo. Please come again soon.’
As she turned from him, Roland wanted to run after her and hold her to him. Instead, he took a deep breath and waited to hear the command to file out.
Flo didn’t speak when she got into the car. Her feelings were jangled, some tied in a knot she thought she would never undo, whilst others were ones of relief to see Roland looking so well. And yet another part of her felt a deep sadness at seeing him in such a place. All of these emotions mixed with an excitement that at last, after months of not going home to Leeds, she was finally going to see her beloved family. Eunice would be there, too. Having now recovered, Eunice had returned to work, but was on leave from the hospital. Ooh, it will be so good to see them all.
Art touched her hand. It was enough. A comfort, but not an intrusion. Turning to him, she smiled. His nod said that he understood, without her having to explain or delve into words to express how the visit had been for her.
The engine was already running. Art must have cranked it ready for the off once she came out of the prison gates. He selected a gear and drove away from the prison. Flo relaxed back in her seat and closed her eyes. They had a long drive north, four hours or more, but had arranged that they might not arrive this evening, depending on how the journey went and how Art coped with it. As though at last the Blitz on London had come to an end, Art and his fellow squadron members were now engaged in flying their new Spitfire aircraft on missions across the Channel to engage in small bombing raids and fighter sweeps – harassing the enemy and increasing morale at home. The RAF were everyone’s heroes and when they reported successes, everyone felt happier, but the toll on the men themselves was plain to see in the deepening lines around Art’s eyes.
By the time they reached the countryside the sun was still dancing off the buttercups in the fields, birds were sweeping down and flying off with a prize worm or two, and trees swayed in the slight breeze. ‘Shall we stop for our picnic, Flo? I’m hungry.’
‘Aye, so am I. Look for a gateway to pull into, then we can climb over and sit on the grass to eat.’
With the cloth laid out and their sandwiches and lemonade ready to tuck into, Art spread a rug for them to sit on. A peace settled around them. War and all of its demands seemed a million miles away, and Flo felt the stress of seeing Roland melt away from her as Art’s body, so close, awakened feelings she’d never thought to experience again. When his hand rested on her thigh, it was as if she’d received an electric shock. Looking up into his hazel eyes, she was met with a raw passion that she couldn’t resist. Her body leaned into his without her bidding it to do so. The solid feel of his chest pressing against hers, as his lips brushed her lips, ignited a deep sensation she could no longer deny.
As Art drew out of the kiss, his breath fanned her cheek with his whispered, ‘My Flo, I love you.’
To Flo, the moment released her from the pain of the past that had held her feelings trapped as if in iron chains, and she knew she loved this man. Loved him with a passion she’d never touched before. It surmounted all she’d felt for Simon. In this moment a crystal-clear certainty came to her. Simon had been a first love, a sweet and yet painful love, an awakening. What she felt for Art was a deep binding of souls. ‘I love you, Art.’ She held his cheeks and looked deep into his eyes, till she felt their souls connect. ‘I love you with all that is me, my heart and my soul. Aye, me heart’s been touched afore, but never me soul, and that’s as deep as you are in me feelings, Art. You’re part of me.’
Her fingers wiped away the glistening teardrops that had formed as she spoke and had now trickled down his cheeks. His words held all he was for her. ‘Oh, Flo, my Flo – my love.’
Their bodies swayed together. The wool rug accepted them as they lay back, still entwined, holding onto each other, because now that Flo had opened to Art’s love and let her own seep from her, she never wanted to let go of him again.
There was no resistance, only complete acceptance of her man as his hands caressed parts of her that no one had touched before, gently teasing sensations that had her moaning the pleasure that her body was being transported into. Shyly at first, but finding such joy in discovering the feel of him, she explored her man. Loved the feeling of his strong body and every curly hair on his chest.
Without permission having to be asked, their clothes were discarded. This was so right. Flo knew the time had come to lie with her man and give herself to him, and accept him in a union that nothing could ever break. Art’s gentle handling of her, his concern and his loving, helped her through as he slowly entered her, easing himself out again if she cried out with pain, until at last he could make her fully his.
Heaven descended around them as she drowned in the ecstasy of becoming Art’s. Truly his, and he truly hers. This was a giving of love, not a taking; this was happiness beyond measure, abandonment of her very spirit as she gave it up and embraced Art’s spirit as her own.
Suddenly something happened deep inside her. A feeling that threatened to be bigger than her. Part of her denied it happening, but then it overwhelmed her and she heard her own voice hollering as the exquisite sensations took over her body. When it was over, she lay beneath Art, shivering, crying, completely spent. His hand stroked her hair, his lips kissed every part of her face, and his words were of love, forever-love and devotion. ‘You are my woman, Flo. I’ll treasure you all of my life. I give all of me to you.’ Words that tinkled like music. Words that made her his forever.
When his thrusting became more urgent, Flo could only lie beneath him and allow him whatever he needed. When his moment of completion came, she wanted to wrap her legs around him and take all of him into her, but he quickly took himself out of her, gasping and calling her name as he held her close. A feeling of missing something seized Flo for a second, but she realized as a dampness covered her thighs that Art was thinking only of her, of them both. And what he had given her was enough for now. More than enough.
‘I’m sorry, darling, so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Please, never be sorry. I – I . . .’ A shyness came over her, but she had to tell him, had to put his mind at ease. ‘I’ve been to heaven and back. I’ve never experienced such feelings – it was wonderful. I love you. I’m yours, Art, truly yours. If you will have me, I want to marry you, to have your children and to live forever in your arms.’
His already-flushed cheeks deepened a shade, and the sweat trickling from his forehead shone in the sun, but his eyes lit as if a torch shone from them. ‘Are you proposing to me, Flo?’
‘I am.’
‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’ They were rolling together down the bank, laughing and shouting. When they reached the bottom, Art held her to him. Flo could hear his heart beating, and hoped that it would never stop. That nothing would ever happen to him. For she knew she couldn’t live without him.
They giggled as they dressed, and talked silly talk as they ate, before Art became serious. ‘We’re not going to make it to Leeds tonight, do you mind, darling?’
‘Naw, I’d not have it any different.’
‘Mr and Mrs Smith in a hotel, then?’
Flo giggled her consent.
‘Come on then, let’s pack this up. I can’t wait to get you in a big comfy bed, have my wicked way again and curl up around you to go to sleep.’
‘Ha, you’re taking a lot on yourself. I might have my wicked way with you!’
Art laughed out loud. It was a sound that gladdened Flo’s heart. How had it happened that in London – a place that had been alien to her when she was growing up – she’d met a man who’d been brought up on the other side of the world, and yet was the one meant for her?
Though war in all its forms was evil, but for this war happening, she might never have met Art. Eeh, it’s like as is said: good can come from bad.
When the car pulled up outside Mrs Leary’s, Flo felt exhausted, and at the same time elated. After Art’s loving of her for most of the night, they had slept late, curled up together, and had taken breakfast on the run, making a sandwich out of the dried spam and eating it on the way. Their happiness gave them energy.
As the door opened and a squealing Kathy emerged with arms in the air, and behind her Eunice, Mrs Leary and even Mr Leary, the thought came to Flo: I’m home.
Through the noise of the greeting, Art whispered, ‘I hope they like me,’ just before the welcoming committee swept her up.
He needn’t have worried. He received hugs almost as enthusiastic as the ones Flo was given. Mrs Leary took charge. ‘Come on, away with you, let Flo get inside. Will you calm down, the lot of you?’
Flo felt a lump rise to her throat. She swallowed hard. It had been so long, so very long, but she was home.
When all had quietened and they were in what Flo thought of as the beautiful kitchen, Flo said, ‘This is Art, my fiancé.’
The squeals set up again, with everyone asking questions at once. Flo answered as best she could. ‘Naw, we aren’t getting married yet a while. By, we’ve a war to win first.’ And to Kathy, ‘Yes, Art had better be at buying me a ring, or I’ll be calling it all off.’
Mrs Leary’s gaze made Flo blush as her response to this was, ‘So, it is that you’ve sealed your love for one another, but haven’t been at announcing it to the world.’ There was so much meaning in her words, but they were said with a twinkle in her eye.
‘Aye, sommat like that. Now stop all of your nosy parkering and put the kettle on. What kind of a welcome is this?’
Mr Leary surprised her then. ‘Ha, you be telling her, Flo. It’s a good day, so it is, to have you back in our family. You not being here has been a powerful feeling of loss. And you’re for being more than welcome in our humble home, Art. It’s good to meet you.’
As Mr Leary shook Art’s hand, Flo thought that never before had Mr Leary uttered words of love to her, and these were words of love. She swallowed once more the feeling of wanting to cry. ‘Ta, Mr Leary, I’ve been at missing the pair of you, an’ all. All of you.’ She ruffled the hair of a clinging Kathy. ‘By, lass, let me go. I need to cuddle Eunice. Oh, Eunice, it’s good to see you, an’ all, lass.’
Eunice crossed the room and hugged Flo to her. Flo filled with joy as she clung on to her fleshy body. Eunice truly was well again. As she released Flo, she went into Art’s arms. ‘Lovely to meet you, Art.’ The pair hugged.
Art, who hadn’t spoken till now, said, ‘Well, I’ve heard a lot about you all, and now I find it’s all true. That was a welcome I would only get from my folks back home.’ Flo saw his emotions visible on his face. Eunice left his side, and Flo went into Art’s arms. All of the family cheered. A warm happiness glowed inside Flo.
‘Flo, I think the time is right for what we want to ask.’ This, from Eunice, jelled with how Flo felt.
‘Aye, I think it is an’ all, Eunice.’
‘You say it, Flo.’
‘What? What is it you girls are cooking up now, then?’
Flo stood straight, and her hand found Art’s. ‘Mr and Mrs Leary, Eunice and I, we need to be at thanking you, and want to tell you that you’ve been like a mam and dad to us. Eeh, we couldn’t have had the life we’ve had without you. We want you to let us call you “Mam” and “Dad” from now on.’
Mrs Leary sat on the chair that had been pulled out from under the table, and Mr Leary put his arm around her shoulder. She looked up into his face. Flo saw him nod. Mrs Leary nodded back.
It was Mr Leary who spoke. His voice croaked. ‘Sure, you’ll both be doing us the greatest honour we could be asking for. And I am for thanking you from the bottom of me heart. We’ve always been for looking on you as ours. All three of yous.’
‘Does that mean you’re me mummy and daddy now, forever and ever?’
The seriousness of the way Kathy asked this question had Flo holding her breath.
‘Aye, if it is as you’re ready for us to be, me little lass.’ Mr Leary smiled a gentle smile as he said this to Kathy.
Kathy thought for a moment. ‘Aye, I’m ready. I didn’t think you wanted to be, but I’ve been saying me prayers this good while that you would.’
Eunice acted first. She moved over to Mr and Mrs Leary and put her arms around them. ‘Thanks, Mam and Dad. I feel as though I’ve just been born.’ Her grin had them all laughing.
Flo moved over to them and joined in the hug. ‘Aye, I do, an’ all. And to the best mam and dad in the world.’
If she lived to be a hundred, Flo thought she would never forget this moment. Love flowed between her family, as Kathy clung to her. ‘And do I have two sisters now, Flo? Is Eunice me sister, an’ all?’
‘She is, me little lass. And soon you’ll have a brother-in-law to top it all.’
‘Art can be me brother now, if he wants to be?’
Flo looked over at Art. Her heart filled to bursting as he nodded his head, and Kathy ran and jumped into his arms. Art swung her round, and the action showed his joy. But his joy and that of everyone in the room couldn’t match hers, for Flo was bursting with it. By, I’m the happiest woman in the whole wide world.
The thought came that the world was a dangerous place and all of this could be shattered in an instant, as had happened to her before when she’d lost her darling Simon. But then something very strange happened. An image of Simon floated above the dresser. He was smiling, and a feeling entered Flo that told her he was always by her side, that he was happy for her and that he’d never let anything hurt her again.
She smiled back.
Art squeezed her arm. ‘Are you all right, darling?’
‘Aye, I am. I’ve never been more all right in me life.’ And she meant it. With Simon looking out for them, she and Art were going to come through this war, she was sure of it.