Page 37 of The London Girls
It was an image she knew she’d never be able to get out of her head.
When Florence finally walked through the door to the home she shared with her grandmother, battling her memories all the way, she ran straight out to their makeshift shelter to check on her. She threw back the heavy wooden door, squinting as she looked in. Her grandmother wasn’t there. Florence’s heart rate picked upas she ran back into the house, glancing around for any sign of her. She darted upstairs.Please let her be here. Please let her be safe.
‘Flo? Is that you?’
Her grandmother’s voice was as creaky as the stairs Florence ran up, taking them two at a time, rushing into the bedroom and throwing her arms around her. She burst into tears, the emotion she’d so carefully held in check suddenly flowing from her as her grandmother held her, shushing her as she might have when Florence was just a girl, her lips to the top of her head as she curled against her.
‘Let it all out,’ her grandmother murmured. ‘It’s been a long time coming.’
‘I miss them so much,’ she cried. ‘I just, tonight, I ...’
‘Before you ask, I was in the shelter all night. I only crawled into bed at daybreak to get some sleep.’
Florence tried to slow her breathing, still curled against her grandmother, grateful for her arms around her and her fingers gently raking through her hair.
Tonight had been a success, she’d saved people who would have otherwise perished, but opening up to Jack hadn’t been something she’d planned on. Just like she hadn’t planned on her memories being so hard to combat that she sometimes felt as if they were swallowing her whole.
CHAPTER NINE
OLIVIA
Olivia parked her motorcycle and stood for a moment, so tired that she could have curled up right there on the ground beside it and gone to sleep. She’d never experienced fatigue like it, but going out day after day – or this past week, night after night – was starting to take its toll. The night before she’d been so jealous of her flatmates, curled up listening to an old episode ofIt’s That Man Againwith Tommy Handley on the wireless, their hair in rollers as they sipped their tea. The shift work was the only part of her new job that was making her mourn her old one.
‘Tea?’
She turned to find Ava behind her, holding out a steaming-hot mug. She took her gloves off and tucked them into her pocket, reaching for the drink and wrapping her hands around it.
‘How did you know when I’d be back?’
Ava grinned. ‘I didn’t. I made that for myself actually, but you look like you need it more than I do!’
Olivia took a sip. Sometimes Ava seemed to think of no one other than herself, and other times she managed to take Olivia completely by surprise. ‘Thanks. I owe you one.’
‘It’s brutal, isn’t it?’ Ava said. ‘I don’t think I’d ever have believed how hard it would be, even if someone had told me. My old job is seeming rather easy in hindsight.’
‘Brutalis an understatement,’ Olivia said. ‘Thinking of going back to a desk job?’
‘Wash your mouth out! I would never do that!’
Olivia laughed, despite her exhaustion. Ava was nothing if not entertaining, although Olivia wondered if they were doing the job for different reasons. Olivia felt a deep connection to motorcycle riding and wanted to make a difference, whereas she wondered if Ava simply thrived on the adventure aspect of what they were doing.
She suddenly needed to sit, her legs tired as she lowered herself to the ground, leaning against the concrete wall of the garage. Ava did the same, their shoulders touching, heads tipped back as they shut their eyes for a moment.
‘I’d make myself another cup of tea, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get up.’
‘Here, share this with me,’ Olivia said, passing the mug over. ‘I feel bad having it all anyway.’
Ava took it gratefully, sipping before handing it back, and Olivia wrapped her fingers around it again, thankful for the warmth. Despite wearing gloves while she was riding, her hands still turned to ice sometimes when she rode at night.
‘Are you going home to bed?’ Ava asked.
‘Actually, I’m heading back to my parents’ country house as soon as I check over the bike. It’s my mother’s birthday, and I know I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t turn up today.’
‘How are you getting there?’
‘Would you believe that George is letting me take the motorcycle? It’ll take me about forty minutes to get there so long as there’s no damage to the roads between here and there.’ She sighed. ‘Justmy luck there’ll be some obstruction and it’ll end up taking me hours.’
They sat a while longer, eyes shut, too tired to talk.
