by Mary Wood
‘But – but . . . Oh my God! Will it get out who the boy is? It – it mustn’t . . . A murderess! I can’t be associated with her, and neither can you. I forbid it, Flora!’
‘Then it will all come out. How you took one of your servants and then banished her, when you were found out by your wife. And how you left her to fend for herself and tend to her young son – your son! Even . . . Daddy! Oh, Daddy—’
Her father had slumped forward. Acting quickly, Flora opened the collar of his nightshirt and began to massage his heart, as she had seen being done in the hospital in Belgium.
Within minutes he sat up. ‘I’m all right. It wasn’t an attack – I had no pain. I just collapsed with the shock of what you said. Flora, you are my daughter, how could you threaten me with all of this?’
Flora hung her head.
‘Tell me, you didn’t mean it.’
‘I did mean it, Father. Aunt Pru and Freddy mean more to me than you do, because you killed my love for you a long time ago. Oh, it came back to me when I saw you in need, but the way you have just behaved . . . well, I don’t think I can ever love you again.’
He was silent for a long time. Flora remained standing by his side. Her stance was resolute; she had to win this battle, she had to.
‘Very well, I will have the money transferred to your account. But it may take a few days. I will have to send for my bank manager. I cannot let Harold get involved in this. I have an account that no one knows of; it is not linked to my business, and is used to make private payments that I don’t want anyone to know anything about. But I am disappointed in you, Flora. That you should put these people before me – that hurts.’
‘They are not “these people”. Aunt Pru is the mother I never had, and Freddy is my half-brother – your son.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t be so melodramatic! The boy is nothing to me, and Prudence is even less. She knew what she was doing. She had visions of getting above her station. Her actions since prove that. You say that she slept with this man that she killed, for money? Well then, doesn’t that tell you something?’
There could be no argument with this. And to Flora’s chagrin, she knew that the way her father put it was exactly how Pru’s life would be perceived – a son born out of wedlock, and a kept woman who eventually killed her ‘innocent’ lover. Oh, Aunt Pru, how can I save you?
Looking down on her father, she wanted to say that it was all his doing. But she could see that he was shaking in every limb. ‘Father, let me help you to bed.’
‘Don’t touch me. Leave! Leave my house now, and never come back! You have chosen a whore and a bastard boy over your father, who has loved and cared for you. I no longer have a daughter. This payment, to which I will add a further sum, will be your last from me. I will cancel your allowance.’
Pain zinged through Flora’s heart. But she stood tall. She didn’t care about the money, but to lose whatever threads she had of her father, and of her home, broke her heart.
‘Daddy! No! Don’t do this. I – I . . . you’re all I have. I will be an orphan.’
‘Of your own doing. You are heartless. Yesterday I was dying, but that doesn’t matter to you, does it? Oh no, only that precious whore matters to you. All your life you have caused your mother heartache, and now me, when I am at my most vulnerable. Get out of my sight!’
The door opened. ‘What is happening? What have you done, you wicked, evil girl?’
‘Mother, I—’
‘Flora! What the blazes! Mother, send for the doctor – Father doesn’t look at all well.’
‘Just get her out of this house, Harold. She is never to step foot in here again.’
‘Father!’
Harold’s reaction would have been comical, if it wasn’t for the tragedy of Flora’s situation, as his head bobbed on his neck and he looked from one person to the other, completely dumfounded. ‘Flora, why?’
‘I can’t explain, Harold. I have given Father a shock, but I didn’t expect this. Oh, Harold.’
‘I’m appalled, Father. Appalled at Flora’s treatment. Come on, old thing.’ Flora was grateful to take Harold’s arm. An ally that she least expected, but a welcome one. ‘I’ll get my driver to take you back to Pru’s, old thing. But look, give me the address, so I can contact you.’
Flora hesitated, but then decided against doing so. ‘Here, this is my Red Cross address – they accept post for us all.’ She handed Harold a card with the address written on it. ‘Let me know how Daddy is, won’t you?’ She turned and opened the door, as Harold came to the doorstep with her. ‘And, Harold, I had to do what I did to Daddy, for Aunt Pru’s sake. You will read about it in the paper. I can’t tell you any more, but keep in touch and give this address to Francis.’
‘But, Flora, what is it all about? Tell me. Don’t let me get another shock, on having to read about it.’
Briefly she told him what had happened to Pru. ‘I needed to get her a lawyer, Harold, she’s innocent.’
‘And you took the risk of harming Father, for that slut? How low have you stooped, Flora? “Aunt Pru” . . . ? For God’s sake, she was your nanny, a lowlife; and she’s gone further into the gutter, by the sound of it. I forbid you to get involved. And I will forbid Father to help her out financially, as I guess that’s what you wanted from him.’
‘You can’t forbid me anything, Harold.’
‘Then I will have to take the same stance as Mother and Father. Here, keep your poxy address – it is nothing to me. I can’t think why I wanted to get on better terms with you. All it has done is show me who you really are. Goodbye, Flora.’
The door slammed shut.
Flora stood there, looking towards the gate. Behind her the closed door signalled the end of any life with her family – no matter how tenuous that thread had been, it cut a deep hurt into her. And in front of her, the only family life she’d gleaned any happiness from had now been fragmented. Inwardly, she folded, unsure what to do. But then a picture of Freddy came to her. Freddy needed her. She would have the money now to pay for help for Pru’s defence, and to set up home for her and Freddy, because neither of them could go back to their old home. They wouldn’t be able to bear it, after what had happened there. No, she’d see to it that it was closed down, once the police let her in; and she would begin to make a new life for Freddy. How long that would be for, she didn’t know. And there were so many other considerations, too. The Red Cross, for one. And Cyrus.
Yes, she’d only met him the once, and for a few minutes at that, but he was a consideration in whatever happened from now on. Tomorrow he would be here. Tomorrow she would have to face him, with all that was going on in her life. More than likely he would turn away and leave her. No man wanted the troubles that she had, put onto his shoulders.
As she closed the gate, a tear plopped onto her cheek. Looking up, she saw her father’s bedroom curtain move. He was watching her, she was sure of that. Watching his only daughter walk out of his life. Well, it was his sins weighing her down as she went.
Something in her wanted to scream at him, but instead she lifted her shoulders and put her head back. She would go forward without them all. She would seek her own happiness. Would that be with Cyrus? Oh, I hope so. For it doesn’t matter that we only met the once. I know our lives are entwined more deeply than they could be if we’d known each other a lifetime. Because, with one look, Cyrus has embedded himself in my heart.
As this thought died, Flora knew that any future happiness would be less than perfect, if she didn’t manage to get Aunt Pru off all the charges. That would be her aim. That and taking care of her lovely half-brother, Freddy.
Chapter Sixteen
Pru stood in the dock the next day. She looked over to the public gallery and saw Flora and Freddy. Freddy waved. He had a look of hope on his face. Eeh, lad, what have I brought you to?
But she wasn’t without hope herself. The lawyer who’d been to see her that morning had brought her a change of clothes, and had insisted that she be allo
wed to wash. When she was ready, he’d talked her through what was happening today. He’d managed to pull in some favours and had got a quick bail hearing for her.
She’d told him all that had happened and how she came to be in Abe’s clutches, and even who Freddy’s father was. He’d listened without comment, scribbling notes on a pad. Then he’d said that she was not to worry, he would sort everything for her. That is sommat to hope on, ain’t it?
‘All stand.’
Pru found herself compelled to look towards the bench. An old man walked in, bedecked in robes and a raggedy-looking wig.
What followed was a lot of talking, some whispering and what seemed like an argument between her lawyer and the judge, but most of it went over Pru’s head, as she found herself cocooned in another world from the proceedings. In this world she was enslaved to Abe. And she had flashes of Flora’s and Freddy’s father jumping in and out of her head, his mouth open in a laugh, his eyes like a mad man’s. Abe appeared as if he was the Devil, taunting Pru and telling her that she would hang for doing him in. Her body shuddered and she opened her mouth to scream, but a muffled sound came out, which was lost to her as she fell into a blackness that held no fear for her.
‘Pru . . . Aunt Pru.’
‘Ma, Ma, you’re free!’
The words came to her as if from a long distance away and spoken through a tunnel. Echoing. Bouncing off the pain in her head.
‘Aunt Pru, wake up. We love you. Aunt Pru!’
Opening her eyes, it seemed that she was in a world of white. ‘You’re in hospital, Aunt Pru. Don’t be afraid. We’re here. Me and Freddy. You’re all right. You have a fever. But it’s good news. You don’t have to go back to the cells. You can come back to Rowena’s with us, once you’re well, and until I can find us a new home. Oh, I’ve so much to tell you, Aunt Pru.’
‘A new home, lass?’
‘Yes. Just for now. You don’t want to go back to your house – not yet.’
No, she didn’t; not yet, not ever. But what would become of her school and the kids? She was so close to it becoming a recognized school. Pru’s head hurt again. ‘Eeh, me lad, and me Flora, I have to sleep.’
‘I’ll stay with you, Ma, you rest. I’ll be here when you wake. Only Flora has to go. She’s meeting her young man.’
‘Freddy! I told you, I barely know him. He – he’s just a friend.’
Pru couldn’t understand any of this, nor why they both seemed so unconcerned and cheerful. But something of what they’d said swam around in her tired brain. I’m free. Eeh, thank God. But for how long? Dear God, for how long?
As Flora walked towards Aunt Pru’s home, the nerves that she hadn’t had time to feel clenched at her insides now. She wished she could have contacted Cyrus and asked him to meet her elsewhere, but there hadn’t been time. He’d said he would be at the address she had given him between four and five o’clock.
As she approached the house, a figure moved out of the shadows. ‘Flora?’
For a moment she couldn’t answer. Then her voice came out, all squeaky, making her feel silly. ‘Yes, it’s me.’
‘Thank God. I thought you’d had me on a wild goose chase. I didn’t expect you to live in a house like this, and when I found it all closed up, I – I, well, I . . .’
She was close to Cyrus now, swimming once more in his deep, dark eyes. The reflection of the lamplight made them even more beautiful than she had remembered. She swallowed hard. ‘Well, I do live here. Did. Look, I can’t ask you in. I . . . There is such a lot to tell you. So much has happened. I don’t think you will want to know me, once you hear it all.’
‘That won’t happen.’ His low voice caused a reaction in her as if he’d taken a feather and run it along her spine.
‘Cyrus, can we go somewhere we can talk? I don’t know anywhere. I’ve been away from here for most of my life, and only stopped here with my Aunt Pru on odd weeks.’
‘Flora, you look troubled. When you say that a lot has happened, you don’t mean good things, I take it. Are you grieving? Have you lost loved ones? I – I don’t want to intrude. I . . . well, I just knew I had to see you again. Does that sound cheeky?’
‘No, it doesn’t. And no, I’m not grieving the death of a loved one through the war or anything, but I am sad and worried, and my life has taken a turn I never expected it to. It is a lot to unburden onto you, but I – I feel . . . I feel you are a friend, even though we only met the once.’ To her horror, the last word came out on a sob, and tears stung her eyes.
‘Flora, what is it? Look, come on. I have a cab waiting. I hoped you would let me take you to dinner.’
‘I’d love that.’ Secretly she felt glad that she had dressed for such an event. Rowena had been allowed into Aunt Pru’s house to fetch clothes for them all. And Flora had been able to plan her outfit with care. She’d chosen her dark-blue coat, for warmth, and because it covered the outfit that wouldn’t have been appropriate for where she’d been today. But once it was discarded, she hoped Cyrus liked the ankle-length slim-fitting skirt with a matching jacket, which buttoned up to a pretty neckline and was in two layers: one that came to her hip with a slight flare, and a short, bolero-type top layer. The fabric was wool, but very finely woven, in a thin blue-and-white stripe.
His eyes told her he approved, once they reached the hotel where Cyrus was staying for his two-week leave and he removed her coat.
As they entered the dining room she felt warmth seep into her for the first time today. It had taken a while to get to the City of Westminster. The streets were crowded with carriages and buses, filling the air with dust. The smell of horse dung had been overpowering. And she’d felt sorry for the poor animals pulling all the vehicles, as they were steered this way and that way by angry, shouting coachmen, trying to avoid collisions.
The shops were a distraction, especially Harrods. It was lit up and glowed like gold in the dark. Flora had never shopped there, but she loved to see the hustle and bustle of those who did as they thronged its doors.
The Brompton Coach House and Inn offered a welcome respite from the busy London streets. ‘I stay here if my mother is away,’ Cyrus told Flora. ‘She often visits her sister in Switzerland. My aunt has a lung condition, so she lives there for the quality of the thin air.’ He pulled out a chair for her at an elegantly laid table in the corner of the room. ‘Elegant’ was a word she’d also use to describe the hotel.
‘What a nice place – I like it.’
‘That’s a good start then. Have you looked up at the ceilings? I find them fascinating and see something different in them every time.’
Flora looked upwards. Her eyes feasted on a collage of scenes from Roman times, depicted in the busy wallpaper that covered the ceiling. Carved cornices formed a border, making it appear as if a large framed picture hung above them. ‘Very interesting, and not what I expected, given the rest of the room. Though the columns in each corner really set it off.’
A waiter hovered around them. ‘Shall I order for you? I know what’s really good.’
Flora nodded her assent. She didn’t feel that she could have done so herself, judging by the huge menu cards and how she was feeling.
A confusion of emotions was attacking her. Was it just yesterday that her family finally got rid of her? And just hours since her darling Aunt Pru had collapsed under the strain of what was happening to her? And yet I feel the warmth of deep happiness drifting me along, as if I was made to be by Cyrus’s side. Had she only known him for an hour? It couldn’t be possible; she knew nothing about him, and yet she knew everything . . .
‘We’re having lamb chops. Ha, I know – such a huge menu, and I choose something we could have every day, but these chops are different. They trim them from the bone and they are cooked in the most delicious sauce. The meat melts in your mouth.’
‘Mmm, I’m convinced. Thank you.’
Cyrus laughed. His face lit up. Picking up the glass that the waiter had filled with a crisp white wine, he rai
sed it to her. ‘Here’s to us.’
It seemed such a natural thing to reciprocate with ‘Us’.
His eyes held hers as they sipped. The churned emotions inside her settled into one – one that gave her a deep love for this man. After a moment she broke the spell. ‘I think getting to know one another might be a good idea.’
‘Me, too. I want to know everything about you. Especially as I’m going to make you my wife.’
Flora’s heart pounded happiness through her body as she asked, ‘Can it really happen like this? Is it possible that one look can seal a lifetime?’
‘I think so. No, I know so, as the moment I looked into your eyes, Flora, I knew.’
‘So did I.’
Cyrus’s hand reached out to her and took hers. The touch tingled through Flora. Nothing in her objected to, or questioned, the way she felt. And that feeling seized her whole being as he lifted her hand to his lips. His eyes were telling her of his love for her.
Smiling, she gently took her hand away. And, trying to lighten the moment, she said, ‘I’ll start by interrogating you.’ His laughter shivered through her as, taking a deep breath, she asked, ‘So, you stay here when your mother isn’t at home, but where is home?’
‘In Bexleyheath.’
From that beginning, Flora was astounded by the coincidences to her life that followed, as she discovered that Cyrus had been to the same school as her brothers and – this almost seemed a coincidence too far – had studied and loved music, only he played the violin, not the piano. ‘My mother couldn’t afford to send me to the school, or for extra music tuition, but my grandfather – my father’s father – left a sum for my schooling and a monthly allowance for me. She told me that his one stipulation was that I was encouraged to learn and to love music. You see, my father was killed in the Boer War when I was five, and his father died within a year. I have a picture of them together with my gran, who died before both of them. I’ll show it to you one day. I would have loved to have known both of them, but will forever be grateful to my grandfather for taking care of me. My mother, though a handsome woman, never married again, but she manages well. She was left a legacy from her own parents. So, you see, I am not much of a catch financially. Though I do hope to take up a career in banking once the war is over – if I don’t get taken on by a well-paying orchestra.’
