by Carol Rivers
Will nodded, holding back his tears.
The doctor took her arm to lead her away. It was a very sad moment and Flora knew that Dr Tapper was thinking of Wilfred.
‘You must realize,’ said the matron in an authoritative manner, ‘that William’s papers record him as an orphan with no family.’
‘Your information is wrong,’ Flora said firmly. Her cheeks glowed red. ‘Me and Hilda are his nearest and dearest, as I’ve told you. We might not be blood relatives but we are as close as brother and sisters can be.’
‘I can see that you are very eager to have your way, Miss Shine, but rules are rules. Those men with mothers, fathers and wives must have priority in the placements.’
‘I think Will deserves priority,’ argued Flora. ‘He has, after all, lost an arm for his country.’
‘And so have many other men who have fought in this war.’
Flora looked into the woman’s florid, unsympathetic face. ‘If you want Will to recover, he needs me and Hilda to be with him.’
‘We want all of our patients to recover. William is no exception.’
‘Would you send him to Adelphi Hall if someone in a high place ordered it?’ Flora demanded, unable to hide her anger.
‘Quite irrelevant, Miss Shine!’
‘I’m sure you would.’ Flora was thinking of what Sally had said about contacts.
‘I think we have said all there is to be said on the matter. Now, I have other matters to see to. Good day, Miss Shine.’
As the matron walked off, Flora felt very angry. Mostly, with a faceless power that was blind to people’s individual circumstances. She could understand why women became Suffragettes. If voting in parliament gave the female sex more power to have their say about things, then she applauded the suffrage movement.
She found the ambulance waiting with the doctor inside.
‘Not good news?’ he asked as she sat beside him.
‘The matron refuses to help.’
Sally jumped in the driving seat. ‘Any luck with Boadicea?’ she asked over her shoulder, adding with a chuckle, ‘I saw you talking to the matron.’
‘She was very unhelpful.’
Sally pursed her lips. ‘Don’t give up, Flora.’
‘I won’t.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Sally revved up the engine. ‘And remember, things are changing in this modern world. Our movement is making everyone sit up and think. You should come along to one of our meetings. I think you would like what you hear.’ She put on her driving gloves and turned to welcome the two extra passengers as they boarded the ambulance.
Flora was glad she had met Sally. She didn’t think she would go as far as becoming a supporter of the women’s movement. But Sally’s pep talk had made her even more determined to fight on Will’s behalf.
The moment they arrived home, Flora knew what she had to do. She wrote immediately to Hilda, explaining about Will. Then she wrote another letter to Lillian Appleby, asking to meet her as soon as possible.
At the beginning of June, Flora caught the bus to Shire Street. At Lillian’s request, she was going to call on her, as Lillian also had news for Flora. The plan Flora had formed for Will was going round in her head. And she was eager to discuss it with Lillian.
The June breeze caught her hair as she left the bus and made her way to Shire Street. The lane was full of budding trees and pretty, well-tended gardens. When Flora saw Lillian’s house, her heart beat fast. The warm sunshine flowed over its creamy-coloured walls and lit up the tall glass windows. The faded, striped awnings were not yet opened but the troughs beneath were filled with young spring plants. The patch of cropped grass outside Lillian’s studio was green and smooth and an easel and elderly, wrought-iron chairs were pulled up on the porch.
Flora stood still. She wanted to remember Michael’s tall figure. The moment they had stood there and almost kissed.
‘Flora!’ The voice was Lillian’s.
Jack and Ivy ran to greet her. She bent down as they came to sit at her feet, looking up with dark, glossy eyes. As she kissed the tops of their silky heads, she remembered Michael asking her if she liked dogs. He had laughed when she’d replied that she thought she did. Tears were close as she leaned her face into their soft fur.
‘Oh, Flora, how good to see you.’ Lillian embraced her.
‘I hope you don’t me inviting myself?’
‘You know this house is always open to you, Flora. We don’t see enough of each other as it is. Besides, I have some very good news for you.’
‘Is it Michael?’ Flora asked eagerly.
‘Yes. Come along to the conservatory.’
This house hasn’t changed, Flora thought fondly as she walked through the porch and cluttered entrance hall with its many coats hanging on pegs and boots stacked untidily under a wooden bench. The large painting on the wall of Julian Appleby in his Eastern clothes of crimson and orange still dominated the comfortable home that reminded Flora so keenly of Michael. Time hadn’t changed anything here, and Flora was grateful for it.
‘Jenny, bring in the tea,’ Lillian called as they took their seats in the bright and airy conservatory. Plants of all kinds spilled from the many pots and the cushioned wicker chairs where Michael had sat with them were just as Flora remembered. Lillian, too, hadn’t changed. Her thick, luxurious hair, as before, was pinned up at the back of her head. Her elegant flowing gown made her look even more stately.
Lillian’s eyes went to the ring on Flora’s left finger. ‘When you both came to tell me of your engagement before Michael left,’ she said softly, ‘I couldn’t have been happier. But it’s no easy life, Flora, to be committed to a soldier at war. I was worried about you. Most women would think twice about such a responsibility, especially as Michael was wounded once and could be again.’ Lillian smiled slowly. ‘But you are not most women. I knew that the instant I met you.’
Flora felt she could tell everything to this kind woman. ‘It’s about Will that I’ve come. I went to visit him at the Bristol Infirmary.’ Flora swallowed. ‘He’s lost an arm.’
‘I am so sorry, Flora. Your dear friend Will has been through such terrible experiences at the Front.’
Flora began to tell Lillian of her request to send Will to Adelphi Hall, and how it had fallen on deaf ears. ‘We were driven to Bristol by a young girl who is a Suffragette,’ Flora explained. ‘She advised me to follow the motto of the suffrage movement: “Deeds not words”. So I tried my very best, but the matron refused to help as I’m not family, even though I told her about Hilda and me. So I wondered, if it is at all possible—’
‘I shall help you, Flora,’ Lillian said at once. ‘I owe you so much. You saved my son’s sanity. I do know some people I can ask who might be able to make a difference.’
Flora felt as though she could clap her hands. ‘If you could. I’m sure Will would recover if he was close to Hilda. And I would travel up at weekends.’
Lillian nodded. ‘I shall drive you there myself.’
This wonderful woman reminded Flora so much of Michael. She turned the gold band on her finger that she had worn especially for her visit today. The small diamonds felt like little glass eggs. Pinned on her green bolero was her butterfly brooch. All these, the house and Lillian brought her closer to Michael. ‘And you have news of Michael?’ Flora couldn’t wait to ask.
‘Yes.’ Lillian took out two envelopes from her pocket.
‘I received these last week. As you know, the army is very hush-hush about their movements in wartime. Michael asked a friend of his, an officer taking leave, to deliver these to me.’
‘Does he say where he is?’ Flora asked eagerly.
‘Yes, but this information is for our eyes only. Your letter is of course private, my dear, and so please wait, if you can bear it, until you are alone to open it. Meanwhile let me tell you the news that I gleaned from mine.’
Flora’s fingers trembled as she held the buff-coloured letter. Her name was printed on the front and add
ressed care of Lillian Appleby. She wanted to tear it open and read the precious words inside.
‘As Michael suspected, he was sent to Salonika.’ Jenny came with the tea and Lillian paused. ‘Thank you, Jenny, that will be all for now.’ The young girl nodded, smiling at Flora, as she left a tray of china on the low table. When she had gone, Lillian began again. ‘Do you know anything about the Macedonian Front, Flora?’
‘Only that our soldiers at Salonika are called “forgotten troops”.’ She recalled the patients talking about the confusion in Greece.
‘In 1915, the Allies tried to help Serbia. But Germany, Austria-Hungary and Bulgaria won. However, their victory was complicated by the reluctance of Greece to join the war on either side.’
‘Have they decided now?’ Flora asked, butterflies in her tummy as she thought of Michael and the part he would have to play in a war that seemed so far away.
‘King Constantine favours the Central Powers, but others in government side with the Allies.’ Lillian took a breath. ‘But almost as we speak, there is movement to exile the king and reunify the country under the guidance of Prime Minister Venizélos.’
‘Is he on our side?’
‘Michael thinks so. But the situation is delicate. The Ottoman powers are weak, but they are not finished. A wild animal is at its most dangerous when it is wounded.’
‘Will Michael be safe?’ It was the only question Flora wanted to ask.
‘As safe as can be expected in such a volatile situation.’
Flora looked at the letter in her hands. She couldn’t wait to open it.
‘And so, Flora, we know that Michael was safe and well up until the time he gave these letters to his friend.’
There was a note of finality in Lillian’s voice. Flora knew that they both would treasure these letters.
‘Please enjoy a cup of tea and some of Jenny’s pastries.’
Later, they spoke of Will again and Lillian’s hope to call in a favour in order to help Will. She didn’t say who, but Flora trusted Lillian to do exactly as she said.
‘Thank you for helping Will,’ Flora said when it was time to go.
‘You are to be my daughter-in-law, Flora. But at this very minute, you are more like my own daughter. Michael and I love you very much.’
Flora held back a sob. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to be loved. She wondered if her own mother had loved her like this.
On the journey home, Flora held Michael’s letter close. After she had read it that evening in the peace and quiet of the airey, she would place it with her shawl, her ring and the butterfly brooch. Together with these, she would never forget the affection she had been shown by Lillian today.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lillian Appleby sat down to write. She drew out the pure white sheets of notepaper from her drawer and settled herself comfortably at her desk. Collecting her thoughts for a moment, she paused. Not only did she have a loving son, for whom she would do anything, but now a daughter too. Flora was as close to her as any daughter could be.
Lillian felt blessed. Julian had always wanted a large family. Unfortunately, fate hadn’t granted them their wish. But, perhaps, on reflection, that was not a bad thing. Bankruptcy and scandal had not come easily to Lillian. And Julian, an inveterate gambler, had never taken care to provide for such an emergency. She glanced around her comfortable home. Comfortable, yes, luxurious, no. At least not by her late husband’s extravagant standards. But this was hers. Hers and Michael’s. A shelter in the storm after they had fallen from grace.
A few thoughts of regret skimmed through her mind. Regret for her son, who had to bear the sins of his father, and had borne them without complaint. At least Michael’s schooling had been locked in trust by Grandfather Reggie.
‘Ah, you found your way in the world,’ she murmured softly as she thought of her young son. Though Michael had never warmed to following in his esteemed grandfather’s medical footsteps. Instead, he had excelled at military school. How she admired him for his spirit and courage.
Julian would have been proud of his son. Yes, Michael had his father’s courage but this was combined with unselfishness and loyalty.
‘You must watch over him, Julian,’ she whispered to the painting a few feet away. She looked into the smiling face of her late husband and both affection and an ache of his absence filled her. ‘Do what you failed to do in this life.’
Lillian picked up her pen. In elegant, flowing handwriting, she addressed her letter to Lady Bertha Forsythe, Adelphi Hall, Surrey.
‘Dear Bertie, though it is many years since we met, I was happy to hear that you have now generously created a sanctuary at Adelphi for our injured veterans of war. How I admire you!’
The hour passed swiftly. She wrote of her own situation and of Michael, engaged to a young woman of the island. Lillian included everything she knew of Flora, Hilda and Will and of their life at St Boniface’s Orphanage.
Her request was stated clearly. She asked Bertie to exert her influence and bring William Boniface to Adelphi Hall, in order to be near his friend Hilda Jones, who was in service there.
Lillian put down her pen. She considered her choice of words.
‘Bertie, you owe me this,’ she said aloud, frowning at the memory of Julian’s passion for indulgently wild parties. Then, gazing up at the image of her husband, her eyes moistened. ‘I may have forgiven you, Julian. But I haven’t forgotten. Now it’s time for you to do your part.’
Lillian lifted her hand and blew a gentle kiss from her fingers.
And it seemed, just fleetingly, that Julian acknowledged her.
Flora was thinking about Michael’s letter as she stood in the kitchen of Hailing House. Mrs Bell was nearby shouting at the scullery maids. Flora’s mind often drifted to his words, which had been full of love and of hope, too. Just a few lines, as he had been in a hurry to give the letters to his friend. But they had given her new life through the past few weeks. Whenever she had a moment, she thought of his promise to return. Of his hopes and dreams for the life they would lead together.
‘Hold this steady for me, Flora!’ Mrs Bell was pressing a large china bowl into her hands. ‘You’re all over the place this morning, my girl!’
Flora almost stood to attention. ‘Sorry.’ She grasped the bowl tightly.
Mrs Bell poured the mixture of whipped eggs, flour and salt into the bowl. ‘Are you thinking of your young man, by any chance?’
Flora blushed. ‘He wrote me a letter. It was given to Lillian – Mrs Appleby, Michael’s mother.’
‘And what did he have to say?’ Mrs Bell licked the pancake mixture from her finger.
‘Oh, not much.’
Mrs Bell let out a knowing chuckle. ‘Whatever it was, he’s put a twinkle in your eye.’ She let out a slow breath. ‘Now, what’s this about Will going to Adelphi?’
‘Michael’s mother has received an invitation to visit Lady Bertha.’
‘And you’re going along too?’
‘I hope to see Hilda.’ Although she had written in advance, as usual Hilda had not replied.
Mrs Bell gave the mixture another whisk. ‘Remember what happened last time? Hilda was none too pleased that you turned up.’
‘But how could she not want to see me after all this time?’ Flora insisted.
‘I hope you’re right, ducks. Now slice the bread, will you? And make them generous portions as I’ve baked more than enough to go round.’
Flora did as she was told, enjoying the rich smell of hot dough as she carved the bread. There was to be a Saturday soup kitchen at the house. The demand was so great for charity that Lady Hailing had taken on two more scullery maids besides Aggie to help with the catering.
Just then, the scullery maids burst in with Aggie. They all looked flustered. Aggie was puffing and her cap was tilted on her head. They all wore aprons spattered with the green-grey stains of the vegetable broth Mrs Bell had just cooked.
‘Well, get yourselves trays an
d clear up the mess before you take this lot in!’ Mrs Bell cried, hands on hips, shooing them back to the dining room.
‘Do you want me to take a message to Hilda?’ Flora asked as she got ready to leave.
‘What message would that be?’ The elderly lady was silent, then muttered, ‘But you can take her sewing bag if you like. I put a few pennies inside it.’
Flora looked into Mrs Bell’s plump, wholesome face. For a moment, their eyes met. Flora knew that she still cared deeply for Hilda.
The cook gave a rueful smile. ‘And tell her I send me love.’
Flora felt happy as she leaped up the stairs to Hilda’s old room. Mrs Bell hadn’t forgotten Hilda after all.
The landings and corridors all smelled musty and were freezing cold even in the middle of June. When she opened the door to Hilda’s room, she gave a soft sigh. Memories of the days when Hilda had first started at Hailing House flooded back. They had been happy in their new lives away from the orphanage. Hilda had been given a room of her own, even though it was in the attic. She had made it warm and homely with the help of Mrs Bell. Now the little room felt abandoned. The smell of the cook’s polish had faded and a coat of dust lay over the furniture.
Hilda’s sewing bag was on the bed. Flora held it close. Hilda didn’t appear to be returning to Hailing House. This might be the last time that Flora would come in here.
Early on a warm Friday morning in July, Flora waited eagerly for Lillian to arrive in Michael’s car. When she heard the noise of the rattling engine outside, she hurried up the airey’s steps.
‘All set?’ asked Lillian from the driving seat. The hood was down and she was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and goggles.
Flora climbed into the passenger seat. She was careful to button up her coat and wind her scarf around her head.
‘I’m glad to see you’ve dressed sensibly,’ said Lillian approvingly.
Flora saw that her companion had chosen to wear hardy tweeds, leather driving gloves and long boots.
‘This automobile has a mind of its own,’ Lillian said as they leap-frogged forward. ‘Now hold tight!’
Every so often the car would make a loud bang. When that happened, pedestrians stopped to stare at them. It wasn’t very often that a woman was seen to be in command of a motor vehicle.
