Page 59 of The London Girls
CHRISTMASEVE, 1940
FLORENCE
‘Do you think she’ll come?’
Florence had been asking herself the same question all morning, and now she couldn’t help but say it out aloud to her grandmother. The past month had been difficult – so difficult that she’d found it almost impossible to go to work or drag herself from bed; what had happened with Leo had taken her right back to the night she’d lost her parents.
‘The girl’s been through a lot,’ her grandmother replied, as she mixed the pudding. ‘As have you. If she doesn’t come today, then all you can do is ask her again another time. You, more than anyone, know what she’s going through, so just be patient.’
She was right, her grandmother was always right, but it didn’t make the waiting any easier. The truth was, she missed Olivia terribly, and she hadn’t seen her since the service held for Leo immediately after his passing. Instead of going to visit, she’d written to ask if she’d like to join them for an early Christmas dinner, and although Olivia had written back and said she’d be there if she felt up to it on the day, Florence hadn’t heard anything since. Part of her had the most horrible feeling that Olivia blamed her for seeingLeo that night and leaving his body there in the street. It was a decision that she’d regretted ever since, even though all she’d done that night was follow the rules.
She opened the oven and checked the mutton and vegetables they had cooking, receiving a flick of a tea towel from her grandmother.
‘Shoo! Stop looking at that food; it’s not going to cook any quicker from looking at it.’
Florence sighed and walked into the dining room, checking the table for the umpteenth time and trailing her hand across the back of the chair.It’s not just Olivia that I’m all in a knot about. As much as she wanted to see her friend, her restlessness was more about the fact she’d asked Jack to join them too, and she’d been criticising her decision ever since she’d invited him.
Things had been different between them since the bombing of the theatre. She closed her eyes a moment, holding the back of the chair as she remembered what it had felt like to be curled on his lap, waking with her head on his shoulder and her arm still looped around his neck. It must have been terribly uncomfortable for him but he’d never moved that night, both of them so tired from what had happened, and in the end it had been her grandmother’s gentle knock on the door that had woken her. Bless her, she’d never said a word about finding Florence asleep with Jack; perhaps she’d sensed that they were as broken as each other and had needed the contact.
The problem was that, since then, although she felt enormously close to him after what they’d shared, she hadn’t been able to return to work. And although he’d told her repeatedly the next day that he understood, and had encouraged her to take some time off, the few times she’d seen him since had been awkward.
She’d gone to see him before his shift once, and had offered to assist with maintenance on the ambulances, but even seeing Petal had brought back so many emotions, and instead of explaining itall to Jack, her words had caught in her throat. Perhaps she was embarrassed, too; he’d seen her at her lowest and opened himself up to her, although he’d been able to find the strength to continue and she hadn’t.
But despite all that, her grandmother had insisted Florence ask him to join them for Christmas since he didn’t have a family, and much to her surprise, he’d immediately said yes.
‘Are you fiddling with the table again?’
Florence laughed when her grandmother called out. She knew her too well. But before she could call back to her, there was a knock on the door.
‘I’ll get it!’
She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, hating how nervous she was.For goodness’ sake, it’s probably just Ava. Stop making such a fuss.But as she pulled the door open and a cold blast of wintry air came rushing towards her, she discovered that it was most definitelynotjust Ava. And, silly her, Ava wouldn’t have knocked in the first place; she was still staying with them and treated their house like her own.
‘Jack,’ she said, staring for a moment at the man standing before her, his breath creating puffs of white in the cold.Gosh, I’ve missed him.
‘Florence, you look ...’ he said, shaking his head slightly before meeting her gaze and smiling at her. ‘You look beautiful.’
She glanced down, her cheeks flushed as she realised he’d never seen her wearing a dress before. For two people who’d been used to seeing one another on a nightly basis, it was ridiculous how awkward they were as civilians.
‘Ah, it’s terribly cold out here, so if we could come in ...’
‘Oh, of course! I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.’ She moved aside, beckoning him in, and saw that he wasn’t alone at the same time she realised he’d saidwe.
‘Flo, there’s something I should have told you,’ Jack said, looking uncomfortable as he reached for the small boy’s hand. ‘This is ...’
She waited expectantly, smiling at the child and wondering from where Jack had managed to pick up a stray child on the way to dinner. Although the child didn’t exactly look hard done by; he was very well dressed.
‘Florence, this is my ... ah, this is my son. William.’
His son?Florence knew her mouth was hanging open, her manners forgotten. ‘I’m sorry, your ... yourson?’
He has a son!
Jack nodded, looking decidedly uncomfortable. The little boy was wearing mittens and holding his father’s hand, blinking up at her and appearing as uncertain as she felt.
‘Jack, you told me ... that night when you opened up to me, you never mentioned ...’ She lost her words. He’d told her he’d lost his entire family! Why would he have kept a secret like this from her?
Jack’s gaze was fixed on hers, and she looked from him to the boy. It took her a moment to regain her composure, to get past the shock, but she knew it was a conversation for another time,notone to have in front of the child.
