Together for Christmas

by Carol Rivers

  Flora saw his eyes twinkle. She knew he approved of her friendship with Michael, and that he too had grown very fond of him and enjoyed their long discussions.

  When Flora was at home that evening, she thought about Michael’s offer to drive her to Surrey on Easter Monday. Perhaps she should accept. She was suddenly excited. She and Hilda had so much to discuss.

  But when a letter came from Hilda on Saturday, Flora gave a low moan. ‘I have been off-colour,’ Hilda wrote. ‘The reason being, we have lost more men to the services and I am wrung out with exhaustion. It wouldn’t be any use you coming. When I am more myself, I will let you know. With affection, Hilda.’

  When a knock came on the airey door, Flora was surprised to see Mrs Bell. ‘Happy Easter, Flora. I’ve baked some Easter buns for you.’ She took a brown paper bag from her basket. ‘Thought you and the doctor might like them for Sunday.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You look a bit down, love.’

  ‘I am. I was hoping to go and see Hilda on Monday. But she wrote she’s not well enough to meet me.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘She says she’s had a lot of work to do as more of the men have left.’

  Mrs Bell rolled her eyes. ‘Listen, Reg Miles, the costermonger who delivers to the house, is waiting. He’s giving me a ride to the market. Would you like to come too? An afternoon at the market might cheer you up a bit.’

  Flora smiled. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Go and put the buns away safely. I’ll ask Reg to wait while you get ready. Better bring a coat in case it rains. And Hilda’s letter. We can read it over a cup of Rosie.’

  It took Flora only a few minutes to store the buns, after which she grabbed her coat and pushed Hilda’s letter in her pocket.

  Reg was waiting outside and helped Flora up beside Mrs Bell. ‘Nice day for a bit of shopping,’ he said from under his peaked cap. Flora had seen him at the market before; he was a tall, portly man with a florid complexion, who, even though he was not in his prime, worked very hard at his greengrocery business.

  ‘Yes, even nicer, Reg, now you’re taking us to the market.’ Mrs Bell folded her arms over her plump chest, resting her basket on her stomach. She pushed her hair up under her small brown felt hat. ‘Couldn’t walk that far now. Not with me legs.’

  Reg winked as he glanced at the cook sitting on the wooden seat.

  Flora thought that Reg the costermonger seemed very friendly. She had never seen Mrs Bell like this before, with a blush on her cheeks that wasn’t caused by her cooking.

  ‘I did warn Hilda,’ Mrs Bell said unsympathetically, as they sat together on the bench at the coffee stall, waiting for Reg who was delivering to his customers. As Mrs Bell hadn’t brought her reading glasses, Flora had read Hilda’s letter aloud. ‘Cut-backs are common now. Lady Hailing has had to give up her chauffeur. All the big houses must comply; it’s government regulations.’

  ‘There was no mention of the special someone either,’ said Flora with a frown.

  ‘Don’t dwell on it,’ Mrs Bell advised. ‘When Hilda has something to brag about, she soon lets you know. She’ll be writing again only to tell you she’s engaged to a wealthy prince or has finally become a lady’s maid!’

  They both smiled. ‘Lieutenant Appleby had offered to drive me to Surrey.’ Flora glanced at Mrs Bell.

  ‘Lieutenant Appleby?’ Mrs Bell quickly put down her mug.

  Flora blushed.

  ‘My, my! Are you walking out with this young man?’

  ‘We’re just good friends.’

  ‘I can see that, my dear. And good luck to you, though I’m no judge of affairs of the heart. I never married. Never had the inclination. It’s the Hailings who’s been me family, as you know. But you’re only young once and a drive in the country would do you no harm. Perhaps you should think about enjoying yourself for once. Let our Hilda get over her mood. We both do too much worrying over that girl.’ She touched her elbow against Flora’s arm. ‘London can be very confining at this time of year. The lieutenant might drive you to the seaside, if you thought to suggest it.’

  Flora was so surprised that her mouth fell open. She had expected another warning from Mrs Bell about becoming too fond of a soldier.

  ‘Anyway, I can’t sit here all day gossiping, as much as I’d like to. Lady Hailing and her daughters are visiting the house after Easter. Me and Aggie have all the fires to light and the rooms to air. Now, I’ll go and find Reg.’ She stood up. ‘Do you want a ride back with us, ducks? It’s no trouble at all.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Flora smiled. ‘I’m glad Reg is too old to enlist.’

  Mrs Bell gave a chuckle. ‘I’m glad too.’ She added quickly, ‘But only because he’s fair with his prices.’

  Flora watched her friend as she left. Mrs Bell even seemed to move with a more agile step, despite her bad legs. Her shoulders were pulled back under her coat and her hat sat squarely on her head. It came as a shock to Flora to realize that even Mrs Bell was losing her concerns over Hilda. Time had passed and the elderly lady had begun to take an interest in life. And Reg did seem a nice man, who looked as if he enjoyed his food.

  Flora found herself walking slowly around the market. She was thinking of all that had happened since she, Hilda and Will had met that time in Hyde Park. None of them had realized then that the changes the war would bring would affect them in so many different ways.

  She wanted to see Hilda more than ever now. If Michael offered again to take her to Surrey, she would accept.

  It was the end of May and although she hadn’t heard from Hilda, Flora was certain that her friend must be recovered by now. The spring breeze blew softly around her face as she sat in Michael’s car, excited at the prospect of seeing Hilda.

  Her new summer hat and soft chiffon scarf had been purchased from the market especially for the occasion. Her coat collar was trimmed with soft fur. It was also a second-hand purchase, but of excellent quality, a real treasure amongst the many items on the trader’s stall. Pinned discreetly to her lapel was the brooch, catching the light as she moved.

  She was proud to be sitting next to Michael, who was dressed in his tweed suit, sporty cap and driving gloves. After he had asked her if she would like to travel with the hood down, he had folded a blanket across her knees even though the weather was fine and sunny. She liked sitting in the open air, smelling the scents and being part of the passing world. He had offered her goggles for the journey. But Flora had laughed at this. The goggles, she thought but didn’t say, made people look like fish, with big round eyes magnified by the glass lenses. She wanted to look her best when she arrived at Adelphi Hall.

  ‘Fine weather all day is forecast,’ shouted Michael above the clatter of the engine as they crossed Tower Bridge. He nodded as a motor car passed the other way. She had to hide her amusement when drivers acknowledged one another. This journey was very different to the simple one she and Hilda had made in Albert’s cart.

  Taking a contented breath, Flora looked down at the great River Thames. Though it was Sunday, the waterborne traffic was gliding elegantly on the current as the green-grey hue of the water turned to a silvery gold in the distance. She could see the gulls sweeping and circling, but their cries were lost in the noise of the engine.

  Very soon, they reached the countryside which immediately filled Flora with delight. She recalled with pleasure the little villages that Albert had taken them through. Thatched cottages, winding lanes and fields of sheep and cows spread out on either side of the road as they sped along.

  Flora began to wonder what Hilda would say when they arrived. Would she throw her arms around her and hug her? She was certain that Hilda would be pleased to see her. And what would she say when she saw Michael?

  Their visit would be a surprise for Hilda!

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Hilda Jones?’ The old man frowned, then shook his head in answer to Flora’s enquiry. ‘There’s lots of wenches from the v
illage here now. They all look the same to me. I has to have instructions, to let anyone in.’

  ‘But it’s to be a surprise visit,’ Flora persisted as she looked out from the car.

  ‘I have to be careful. You could be anyone: hawkers or pedlars or thieves even.’

  Flora saw Michael remove his gloves and then his goggles. He took out his wallet and slid a note towards the gatekeeper. ‘I can assure you we are quite trustworthy and have no intention of causing trouble. We simply want to see Miss Jones, who we understand has been out of sorts and could do with a visit to cheer her up.’

  The gatekeeper snatched the money and pocketed it. ‘It’s plain you aren’t rough sorts and so I’ll make an exception this time. Take the road to the left and be sure you’re out of the grounds before dark.’

  Michael nodded and pushed a lever. The car moved forward slowly.

  ‘I didn’t think we’d have to pay to get in,’ Flora said in dismay.

  ‘It’s the way of the world.’ Michael shrugged. ‘And only to be expected. It’s what’s known as the perks of the job. Which, after all, must be very boring for the poor old chap.’

  ‘I’ll pay you back.’

  Michael looked offended as he turned to her. ‘I have no intention of allowing you to do such a thing.’

  Flora hadn’t thought about the gatekeeper when she had made her plans to visit Hilda. She had decided on impulse, hoping that Mrs Burns would allow them to see Hilda as she had been unwell. Now she was wondering if she had acted wisely.

  As they entered the dark shadows of the wood, Flora shivered. She remembered how Hilda didn’t like this lane and had been disappointed she was not allowed to walk up the wide sandy drive. Michael turned the car to the left of the sign that indicated the tradesmen’s entrance. ‘Perhaps we should have brought something to deliver,’ he teased. But when Adelphi Hall came into sight, he stopped the car abruptly, opened-mouthed at the first sight of the house. Its white pillars gleamed in the sunshine, the many windows shone and the gardens either side spread out to the velvet lawns. ‘Quite spectacular!’ Michael exclaimed.

  ‘It is very beautiful.’

  ‘And look there, by the entrance! A magnificent example of the latest Rolls-Royce limousine.’

  Flora watched as a tall man wearing a hat climbed out of the shiny black vehicle and went up the steps to the house.

  ‘One chauffeured passenger,’ Michael mused. ‘Perhaps it’s the earl himself.’

  ‘Mrs Bell told me that he went a little strange after his wife died,’ Flora remarked as they watched the car drive away.

  Michael raised his eyebrows. ‘Stories abound of this great place. Whatever is true, I couldn’t say.’

  They stopped a few minutes longer to admire the scene, then Michael drove on. But as they neared the archway that led to the stable, Flora felt anxious. Was it sensible to visit without invitation?

  But as they reached the stables and outhouses, Flora’s excitement soon replaced her doubts. Hilda was part of this magnificent estate and was living the life that she had always dreamed of.

  Flora couldn’t wait to tell Hilda how proud she was of her.

  ‘Oh, lor’! It’s you, miss.’

  Flora smiled at the scullery maid, who had been hurrying back from the greenhouse with a basket of sweet-smelling herbs over her arm. ‘Hello, Gracie. How are you?’

  ‘Thank you, miss, I’m all right.’

  ‘This is my friend, Lieutenant Michael Appleby.’

  Gracie did a small bob, her white face going pink as she looked at Michael.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Gracie.’

  ‘Likewise, sir.’

  Flora glanced at the house. ‘We’ve come to visit Hilda.’

  Gracie’s skin soon returned to a pasty white. She looked almost frightened as she peered out from her washed-out eyes hidden by straggly wisps of thin hair which escaped from beneath her cap. ‘Is Mrs Burns expecting yer, miss?’

  Flora shook her head. ‘I didn’t write, as I wanted to surprise Hilda.’

  ‘You know Mrs Burns don’t like surprises.’

  ‘I was hoping she could make an exception this time. I hear Hilda has been unwell. Or, at least, Hilda wrote that she was not feeling her old self.’

  At this, Gracie’s eyes widened and she swallowed. ‘Did she tell you that? What else did she write?’ Gracie closed her mouth and looked down. ‘I’m sorry, it ain’t my place to ask you that.’

  ‘We don’t plan to stay long, Gracie,’ Michael said in a reassuring tone. ‘Perhaps Hilda could meet us outside in the gardens somewhere? We shouldn’t inconvenience Mrs Burns by coming inside, if that’s the problem.’

  Gracie clutched her basket tighter. Her lips trembled a little and her eyes flashed to the kitchen entrance that Flora recalled from her first visit. It was here that she had first seen Mrs Burns talking to Gracie. ‘Oh, it ain’t up to me, sir. You’ll have to ask Mrs Burns. It’s a blessing you’ve come, see? But, oh, dear, oh, dear, you’ll set the cat among the pigeons and that’s for sure.’

  Flora was about to ask her what she meant when a figure came out of the kitchen door.

  ‘Gracie, come here at once!’ Mrs Burns called.

  Gracie stepped back, almost tripping in her haste to leave. ‘If I was you, I’d write to ’Ilda first and—’

  ‘Gracie!’

  Flora saw the girl jump and, clutching her basket, she ran to the house.

  ‘What do you make of that?’ Michael said as they watched Mrs Burns approach. ‘The poor girl seemed frightened out of her wits.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Flora. ‘I thought so too.’

  The housekeeper strode towards them and stopped a few feet away. Her small, penetrating eyes and thin lips gave no indication of a smile. Her black dress, trimmed with small black beads and lace at the neck, looked exactly as it had before, starched and ironed to perfection. Her lace cap sat squarely on her head and rested on the tight bun of grey-black hair at the nape of her thin neck. ‘Yes?’ Mrs Burns ignored Michael, fixing her chilly stare on Flora. ‘I have only a few minutes to spare.’

  ‘I’m Flora Shine. Perhaps you remember me?’ Flora declared. ‘I’ve heard from Hilda that she’s not very well.’

  ‘As I warned you before, visits must be settled in advance.’

  ‘Apologies,’ Michael said. ‘But in such circumstances, when one is concerned about a friend, I’m sure an exception can be made.’

  For the first time, Flora thought that Mrs Burns looked unsettled. She stared at Michael, folding her hands tightly in front of her as though preparing to stop them by force if necessary from entering the house. Her mouth opened, her lips parted as if to speak, but Michael spoke again.

  ‘Let me introduce myself,’ he said slowly, with an authority that Flora had never heard before. ‘Lieutenant Michael Appleby, presently recovering from injury and hoping to see our friend before I return to the conflict. I am certain that, in the light of these circumstances, you will do all you can to afford us a short while with Hilda.’

  Flora had to stifle a giggle. The housekeeper’s smooth hair looked as though it might bristle if she wasn’t wearing a cap. Michael’s unswerving gaze refused to leave her face, silently demanding that she comply with their wishes. Flora knew that Mrs Burns was only ever addressed this way by her superiors.

  With a brisk flash of her eyes, Mrs Burns gathered herself, squared her shoulders and looked at Flora. ‘I shall see what I can do.’ This was a snub, Flora realized, and clearly not an invitation to follow her into the house, as she turned on her heel and strode away.

  ‘Well, that seemed to do the trick,’ Michael said with a rueful smile. ‘Though I dislike having to pull rank, as it were.’

  ‘Thank you, again.’ Flora knew that Mrs Burns would have turned her away if she had been on her own.

  ‘I hope you’re not offended when I said Hilda was a friend?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Rather odd, don’t you t
hink, not to comment on Hilda’s state of health?’ A frown pleated his forehead.

  ‘Yes, I thought so too.’ Flora pointed to the garden bench. ‘Perhaps she’ll send Hilda out to speak to us. I sat there last time and it’s very pleasant.’

  ‘Then it’s a good idea to sit there again, don’t you think?’ Michael accompanied her to the wooden seat. ‘Has Hilda ever complained of her treatment here?’ Michael asked as they made themselves comfortable.

  ‘No, she’s always sounded happy enough. She even wrote that someone special was taking an interest in her.’

  ‘Did she say who?’

  ‘No. I thought perhaps it might be Lady Bertha but Mrs Bell said it could be one of the footmen.’

  ‘Ah,’ sighed Michael. ‘Perhaps we’d better not speculate and let’s hope that when you see Hilda your mind will be put at rest.’

  As they sat in the sunshine, Flora saw the gardener working in the greenhouse. He was alone. The big, rambling building looked neglected; some of the large panes of glass had been broken and some were missing. The impressive fountain with its urn and lilies beneath was silent, a mossy green rim and empty pool replacing the sparkling water and dainty flowers. Weeds sprouted, unchecked, across the lawns and pathways, just as they had grown over the cobbles of the deserted stables where they had left the car.

  Hilda had said that more men had been called up. The many duties, she wrote, had to be shouldered by the women. The grounds of Adelphi Hall were not looking their best, Flora decided, as she cast her gaze over the silent, untended gardens. Perhaps the work at Adelphi Hall really was too exhausting for Hilda, even though Mrs Bell had shrugged off the notion. She hoped Hilda would appear soon and put all her worries to rest.

  Half an hour later, Gracie found them again. ‘’Ilda says to tell you she’s sick and in bed and can’t see you. She says ’er fever might be catching and she’ll write soon when she’s better. And not to come again until she’s good and ready to see you.’

  ‘What sort of fever is it?’ asked Flora anxiously.

  ‘The ’ot kind,’ Gracie replied. ‘She caught a cold and was burning up for nights on end. I know as I sleep next to her and could hear her tossing and turning, till one morning she couldn’t get up. Now the doctor says she has to stay in bed till the fever’s gone.’