by June Francis
‘Oh, Mam! When are you going to forget?’ he cried unhappily.
‘Probably never.’ But her lips twitched. ‘You must go the park if you’re going to play football. You’re like your dad. I remember him breaking a window and –’
George brushed her recollections aside. ‘I was going to the park and I just sort of dribbled. I’ve got to practise so as I can play for Liverpool one day!’
‘Never mind Liverpool and football – they’re not doing so good at the moment. You’d be better paying attention to your education. You’ve got a brain in that head, if you bothered to use it. So take note – less football and more reading.’
‘Awww, Mam! Don’t go on,’ he muttered. ‘Mike’s waiting for you at the bottom under the lamp post. Why don’t you go out and have a good time? I’ll see to the girls.’
She looked at him and her heart ached. Tom had sometimes thought life a game as well. ‘Never you mind Mike, it’s you we’re talking about. You go gallivanting and I don’t know where you are half the time. I worry about you.’
‘There’s no need. I don’t go far. Not like Aunty Hilda going to America.’
She hushed him quickly. ‘Don’t say that so loud. Viv might come in and hear you.’
‘I wish she was going to America,’ he said moodily. ‘She’s a right whinger. I don’t know why we have to put up with her. Why, when I tied her to the lamp post, she –’
Flora stared at him fixedly. ‘What were you playing at, tying her to the lamp post?’
George stepped back a pace. ‘Playing cowboys and Indians – and our Rosie didn’t cry. Not even when we lit a fire pretending to burn her at the stake.’
Her mouth gaped open. ‘You what?’
‘She was all right, Mam,’ he replied hurriedly, taking several paces in the direction of the door. ‘We put the fire out. The wood was damp and only the paper burnt.’
Flora ran at him, but he was too quick for her and had the door open and was halfway up the lobby before she reached it. She followed him out and stood on the step, gazing after him.
Rosie, who was making a house from bricks taken from a bombed site, looked up at her. ‘Mike’ll catch him, Mam.’ She turned to watch her brother. ‘See.’
Flora saw and her cheeks warmed slightly as Mike waved a hand. Aware of the interest of Mrs Jones from over the road, who had paused in brushing her step, she lowered her eyes and scrutinised her daughter’s bare legs, filthy socks and scuffed pumps instead. ‘George said he lit a fire under you. You mustn’t let him do these things, Rosie. It could have burnt you badly.’
‘It was only a game,’ she said carelessly. ‘He put the fire out with his bare hands.’
‘I don’t care how he put it out.’ Her tone was severe. ‘If he does anything like that again, you must tell me.’
Immediately Rosie looked worried. ‘But he mightn‘t let me play with him if I tell on him.’ There was a forlorn note in her voice.
‘You shouldn’t be playing his games. He’s a boy and you’re a girl.’
Rosie shrugged thin shoulders. ‘I like rough games.’
‘They can be dangerous. You play with Viv.’
The girl sighed and went back to play. Flora watched her a moment then looked up, hiding a smile as Mike waved to Mrs Jones and said, ‘Good day.’ The elderly woman half-smiled, then hurriedly went inside. His face was alight with amusement. ‘You wanted this guy?’
‘Did he tell you what he’s done?’ She tried to sound severe.
Mike nodded. ‘D’you want me to beat the living daylights out of him?’
George looked alarmed. ‘You wouldn’t!’
Mike stared at Flora. ‘I would if your mom asked me to – but I reckon there’s marshmallow beneath that frosty exterior.’
‘Don’t you believe it.’ She seized George by the hair. ‘You, George Cooke, are not to encourage your sister to be a tomboy.’ She moved his head roughly. ‘She is a young lady and you are to treat her as such. D’you hear?’
He nodded, wincing as she tugged his hair hard for a second before releasing him. Slowly he made for the house and went inside, rubbing his head.
Mike stared at Flora. ‘Would you enjoy me tying you to a lamp post and setting fire to you?’
‘Just try it.’ Her lips twitched. ‘Our Rosie didn’t turn a hair though. Now she’s tough beneath that skinny exterior,’ she said proudly.
‘She’s a nice kid – like her mother.’
Flora blushed. ‘I think you’re trying to get round me?’
He grinned. ‘What if you were tied to the lamp post and I came galloping up on my pinto and rescued you – would you open your arms to me then?’
She lowered her eyes demurely: ‘I’m not looking for a celluloid hero. Just a sensible ordinary guy who could worship me and take care of my kids – and keep me in the style to which I’m not accustomed.’
‘Shucks, m’dear, I’ll do it!’ He slapped his leg. ‘I’m not that sensible, nor that ordinary, but life could be interesting if you’d let me take you away from all this to where the horizons are wide and the horses carry five.’
‘Five! Now that’s boasting!’ There was a challenge in her eyes. ‘You’d run a mile if I said yes.’
‘You could be mistaken,’ he said quietly, and there was a look in his eyes that caused her to fix her gaze on his well-polished shoes.
‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured. ‘Five’s too many.’
‘You could get rid of one if you told that sister of yours where to go. That would make room for one of our own.’ He touched her shoulder and her head lifted.
Her eyes were worried. ‘I thought this was just going to be fun, Mike. We said nothing serious. And if this is some game of yours, I don’t play them very well. Wartime romances – you don’t agree with them, remember?’
He gave a twisted smile and playfully batted at her chin with his fist. ‘So I don’t. How about the movies tonight?’ She hesitated before asking where. ‘The Lido. It’s one of your British films. Stiff upper lip and all that.’
‘What’s wrong with stiff upper lips?’ she asked seriously. ‘It shows fortitude and strength.’
‘Difficult to pucker.’ He blew her a kiss and she could not prevent a smile.
‘You’re daft. But I haven’t got anybody to look after the kids. Hilda’s going out straight from work.’
He scowled. ‘Doesn’t that sister of yours ever think of you?’
‘It’s just one of those things and it won’t last forever. She’ll be getting married and leaving.’
‘What about Viv? I bet she’s still gonna stay quiet about her. It’s not right, Flo, that you have the raising of her. Nor that Tony’s being lied to,’ he said irritably, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets.
‘It’s her decision. Mine too, if I’m honest.’ Flora’s brow creased in thought. ‘I just can’t believe how I’ve managed to go so long without her finding out about you. I mean the kids haven’t said a word to her – but then she doesn’t see much of them, and doesn’t talk much when she does.’
Mike shook his head. ‘Tony wants kids. She’s got a rude awakening coming if they get married.’
‘If?’ She looked at him.
He shrugged. ‘Nothing’s final till it’s done. What about tonight then?’
‘I’ll have to bring the kids, I told you.’
He sighed. ‘What about your father?’
‘It’s too late in the day.’
‘Okay, then. Bring them. I’ll see you outside in half an hour.’ She agreed and he went.
They sat close in the pictures, Mike’s arm about Flora’s shoulders. She had given up removing it half an hour ago. The children sat three rows in front near the screen. She tried to concentrate on the picture but her mind was on Mike and what he had said earlier that evening.
‘Is this stiff upper lip and terribly British type your sorta guy?’ he whispered.
‘He’s what helped us win the war,’ murmured Flora, very con
scious of his nearness.
‘We helped you win the war. But that’s not the answer I’m looking for. Do you go for the kind of guy on the screen?’ There was a note in his voice that pleased her even as it caused trepidation.
She looked at him, thinking that his profile seemed that of a stranger in the flickering half light. ‘I don’t think of them as real people,’ she muttered. ‘It’s our Hilda who goes for the film star look-alikes – rich, conquering hero types. She’s a dreamer for all she’s supposed to be the one who knows all about life.’
‘And you don’t go for rich, conquering heroes?’ He sounded slightly incredulous.
‘I didn’t say that – I’ve nothing against money. But my hero was Tom and I’m not looking for another.’
‘But –’
‘Sshh,’ came a voice from in front. ‘Some of us are trying to watch the film.’
They both fell silent, but their attention had wandered from the screen. Flora was thinking about Hilda and Tony, and herself being with Mike, and of his arm round her shoulder.
When they got outside the children ran on ahead, playing tig. Mike dragged Flora’s hand through his arm, linking his fingers through hers. It would have been difficult to free herself short of causing a fuss before the crowds hurrying home. She must end it, she decided. When Mike spoke she jumped.
‘I swore I wouldn’t get carried away by a girl when I was over here, Flora, and I’ve kept to it so far. I told myself that there’s girls at home who understand the kinda things I like doing. Who’d fit into my ordinary civvy life just fine. But now –’
‘Don’t Mike. We’ve been through this earlier. Maybe we should finish right now?’
He stopped in his tracks and turned her to face him. ‘Flo, you can’t mean that. Think again. I like you a lot. You’re kinda vulnerable but gutsy with it. I’m thinking more and more of taking you home with me.’
‘Don’t!’ There was a shadow in her eyes. ‘What about the children? You couldn’t take them on. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides hasn’t it sunk in over all these weeks, Mike? I can’t give you anything. I’d be no rival to those girls at home.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ His expression was gentle as he traced the line of her cheek with a finger. ‘Nice eyes, good thick hair of a lovely colour. No make-up tonight – I’m getting to like that.’ He touched her mouth and it trembled.
‘Stop it,’ she stammered, removing his hand. ‘This can’t go on.’
‘Let’s give it a little longer while we can. Please, Flo. Are you really in such a rush to have me out of your life and be back to where you were again? You’re more relaxed now and I like it when there’s a smile in your eyes.’ He pulled her into his arms and his face was bright. ‘Shall we go dancing next time? I’ve never taken you dancing.’ She gasped as he began to polka with her up the middle of the cobbled road, not seeming to care about the passing cinemagoers who shouted, ‘Go it, Fred and Ginger!’ Or the kids who gaped, or the lads who grabbed their giggling girlfriends and aped them.
Flora began to feel exhilarated and like a star in a musical. Her head was whirling. ‘Stop it, Mike,’ she cried, laughing. ‘People are watching us.’
‘Who cares?’ He swung her off her feet before bringing her down to earth, gasping. ‘Promise that you’ll go dancing with me next time.’
She clung to him, staring into his face, and realised with a sense of shock that she would miss him quite a lot. ‘Just one more time,’ she whispered.
They swayed together and then they were kissing as if they could not get enough of each other. The crowds surged about them and several lads wolf-whistled.
Gradually they drew apart. Mike smiled down at her and linked his fingers through hers.
The next moment the kids had caught up with them, and Rosie was dragging at Mike’s jacket. He turned and seized her hand. ‘Let’s go, kids,’ he cried. Then Vivien grabbed Flora’s other hand and George seized hers, and they all raced like crazy to the bottom of the street. There Mike left them. ‘Till the next time,’ he called. They all waved before slowly weaving their way up the street and into the house.
Flora’s emotions were confused as she hustled the children to bed. On a high she impulsively climbed on to the double bed. Standing on tiptoe, she took an old chocolate box from a high shelf. For a brief second she peered at the picture of a lupin-filled cottage garden on the lid before lifting it off.
She emptied out the letters, cards, photographs, dried flowers and ribbons on the bed. Fingering a dried daisy she remembered the sun glinting on the lake in Stanley Park and Tom rowing her in a boat, showing off his muscles. Picking up a yellow ribbon she recalled his proposal and how she had almost stopped breathing with the shock and the thrill of it coming only two months after them walking out together, although she had long been in love with him.
Almost instinctively her fingers reached for the letter written on a half sheet of old exercise book paper. It had come with the one for her shortly before the telegram arrived, and she had meant to show it to Rosie before now. Slowly she unfolded it to read the words that Tom had written. ‘My darling daughter, I’m sure you’re being a help to your mother, and growing –’ The words blurred and she folded the letter swiftly.
She was in the middle of putting things away when she found the photograph. It was of a group of soldiers. Her fingers traced the lines of Tom’s face; his lips, his nose. There was a lump in her throat as she gazed into his smiling eyes. ‘Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn.’ She tried to come to terms with her loss.
So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that she did not hear the front door open or the footsteps on the stairs.
‘What are you doing sitting like that?’ Hilda’s sibilant whisper caused her to spin around. ‘And what’s all this mess on the bed? How can I get in? I’m tired with being on my feet.’
‘I’ll move it,’ said Flora in a low voice, putting the photograph under her pillow. ‘I was just looking for something.’ She began to pile her memories back into the box. ‘How was your evening?’
‘Fine.’ Hilda yawned. ‘Will you be all right for the wedding in three weeks? It’s all fixed at last.’
‘I should be.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you thought any more about Viv? About telling Tony?’
Hilda paused in the middle of undoing the zip on her skirt. ‘You’re joking!’ She frowned. ‘You aren’t changing your mind now, are you?’
Flora stood on the bed, glad to have her back turned. ‘I just thought you might. America’s a long way and Viv’s going to be upset. When are you going to tell her? I don’t think you should leave it till the last minute.’
‘Why not?’ Hilda’s voice was cool as she pulled the covers back. ‘There’ll be less time for her to go on about it. But if you think she should know – you tell her.’
Flora felt the familiar sense of frustration and anger. ‘You’re her mother! You’re leaving her, so the least you can do is tell her yourself.’
‘All right, all right! Keep your hair on.’ Hilda heaved a long sigh as she lay down and closed her eyes. There was a brief silence before she spoke again. Tony was telling me that Mike’s going out with some woman or other.’
‘Oh!’ Flora tried to make her voice sound disinterested, but her heart felt as if it missed several beats.
‘He thinks he’s quite serious about her.’ She gave a sharp laugh. ‘Who’d have thought old Mike would be so stupid – just when his stint over here is almost through too. It serves him right for playing around.’ She turned over. ‘Tony reckons it started that day we met you in town. I wonder if he’s told her he’s married? Probably not. He didn’t tell me right away.’ She yawned. ‘Perhaps he’ll bring her to the wedding. He’s got that kind of nerve.’
Flora almost told Hilda the truth but she held back, in no mood for a fuss. Besides, it would wake the girls. Her hand reached beneath the pillow to touch the photograph of Tom. Tears pricked her eyes. She owed it to his memory to remain faithful
to him, and that meant saying goodbye to Mike.
Chapter Seven
‘Some of the G.I. brides are on the move,’ Mike informed Flora as he whirled her round the dance floor of the Grafton. ‘They’re joining the Queen Mary in Southampton and sailing to New York.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘Don’t you find that idea exciting, Flo? Sailing off into a whole new life?’
‘It could be,’ she gasped, trying to keep her eyes on his face as he twisted her round again. ‘But I’m not about to be swept off my feet by the thought of a bit of excitement.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that.’ He held her close a moment as he snatched her out of the path of a couple who seemed to believe that they owned the dance floor. Both of them were instantly aware of the effect such nearness had on the other. ‘Honey, think what I could give you,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘I’ve got some money – we could build a house big enough for a family. Your George could do with a man about the place. He needs discipline.
‘I know.’ She rubbed her cheek against his. ‘He’s very like his father. Got plenty of spirit.’
‘Nothing wrong with spirit. All I’m saying is that it’s hard for a woman alone to cope with a boy. I’d like to help. I sure am in love with you, Flo.’ He brought her to a standstill beneath the glittering twisting ball overhead and stared down into her flushed face.
‘Oh, Mike! I wish you hadn’t said that. I’m really flattered, and if I was honest I’d have to admit I don’t think straight about lots of things when I’m with you.’
‘That’s how I like you,’ he muttered, his lips brushing her ear. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ He pulled her hand and she went with him through the gyrating couples.
It was dark outside with only the street lamps casting pools of light here and there. Mike pulled her arm through his and they were both silent as they began to walk. She was thinking of what it had been like a year ago when it was still wartime and the blackout. What a state she had been in over Tom! At least now she knew that she could cope with living, although it had not been, and she supposed it never would be, easy.
