Page 88 of The London Girls
She turned to take a clean satchel from George with the memo inside, and somehow, as she approached the spare motorcycle that was parked where hers had always been, she felt as though she had a piece of Olivia with her. Ava fixed her hat and settled on to the seat, starting her engine and rolling backwards before putting the bike in gear and heading for the door, which George had opened for her. She wobbled for a second then corrected herself, her fear like a knot inside her stomach that was slowly rising up to her throat and threatening to choke her.
She’d been so worried she might not be able to ride again, that her fear would take over and stop her from doing her job. It was one of the reasons she’d decided to come back and work on the bikes, simply to be around them again, and it was also why she’d been so desperate to get back out there. Her plan had been to ride at the speedway a few times, to ease back into it again, and instead she was going to ride the same route that had almost cost her her life.
And possibly the life of her friend.
You’re going to make it, Liv. Just like I’m going to deliver this message. There’s no you without me, there can’t be.
As she roared down the street, she only hoped she was right on both counts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FLORENCE
Florence sat with Jack’s arm around her. She’d barely moved in hours, the busyness of the hospital passing her by as she waited for news, barely doing more than blinking and breathing.
At one point, Jack had asked her if she wanted anything, a drink, a change of clothes, a blanket so she could curl up and get some sleep. But she’d just squeezed his fingers and stayed firmly at his side, not wanting to move, not wantinghimto move, not wanting anything unless it was a surgeon coming towards them to tell them news.
Until she saw Ava walking towards her, and then she realised there was something else she wanted. She rose, and they stood in one another’s arms for the longest of moments, neither of them attempting to let go of the other.
‘I came straight from delivering the memo,’ Ava said, her voice low. ‘Has there been any news?’
Florence started to shake then, and Ava eased her down into the seat. She held out her hands, feeling the most overwhelming, desperate desire to scrub them clean again, even though she’d already washed them thoroughly.
‘I feel like I still have her blood on me,’ she said, hating how manic she sounded. ‘I’ve washed my hands over and over, but I can still feel it.’
‘You don’t,’ Ava said, her arm still around Florence’s shoulders. ‘I promise you, there’s no blood, your hands are clean.’
Florence dropped her head to Ava’s shoulder then, and Ava tilted her own head so it was resting on Florence’s.
‘Thank you for delivering it,’ Florence said. ‘It would mean, itwillmean, so much to her.’
Ava didn’t say anything, and Florence wished they’d never fought about her going back to work. She couldn’t stop thinking how unkind she’d been, how she hadn’t taken the time to see how much Ava was struggling with being home, worrying that she might not have the same confidence if she wasn’t allowed back sooner rather than later.
‘It’s all my fault,’ Ava suddenly said, as Florence grasped her hand and held it tight. ‘If I hadn’t crashed that night, if that bomb hadn’t hit me, if I’d just gone faster, then it would have been me delivering that message last night.’
Ava sat up and they stared at one another, tears running erratically down Ava’s cheeks.
‘It should have been me.’
‘Shh, don’t say that,’ Florence said, starting to cry as she saw her friend break down. ‘It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, Ava!’
‘It should have been me,’ Ava whispered again as she sat ramrod-straight, staring ahead, a ghost of the confident, vibrant woman Florence was used to.
It wasn’t until Jack cleared his throat that Florence even remembered he was there. He’d sat so quietly, but now he was pulling his chair out a little so that he was closer to Ava.
‘When my family were taken from me, I blamed myself for as long as I can remember,’ Jack said, his eyes downcast, voice gruff. ‘I couldn’t stop wondering, if I’d only got home sooner, if I hadn’t stayed at the hospital talking to a patient so long, if I’d only walked faster.’ He looked up then, and Florence watched the way he stared at Ava, truly seeing how strong he was. ‘There are so manyif onlys, but the truth is, it wasn’t my fault, just like none of this is your fault. But whatismy fault? It’s that I blamed myself so much for what happened that I couldn’t see my son, because I thought he would blame me too. I couldn’t see how much I still had to live for.’
Florence kept holding Ava’s hand, smiling at Jack. He’d told her once that he never shared his story to anyone, that he didn’t like reliving it because it was just too painful, so she knew how hard it must have been for him to open up to Ava now. And the way he spoke about his son, about the guilt he felt, suddenly him keeping William a secret from her for so long made sense.
‘The war is to blame, Ava,’ Jack said. ‘Nothing else. There is nothing you could have done differently, there is nothing you did wrong. The war did this to your friend, and you need to accept that, or this pain, this guilt, will eat you alive.’
Ava nodded and Florence squeezed her hand.
‘War is brutal. It takes everything from us, and it makes us do things and see things we should never have to be witness to.’ Jack rubbed his hands over his forehead, and as she saw the visceral pain in his face, the torture in his eyes from revisiting those memories, she knew that she was in love with him. He was the bravest, strongest, mostbrokenman she’d ever known, and she loved him for what he’d survived, and what he’d become.
‘Jack’s right, none of this is your fault,’ Florence said. ‘If Olivia were here right now, she’d be horrified to hear you say such a thing.’
Jack tapped her knee then and she followed his gaze to a doctor walking towards them. His eyes were fixed on them, and she knew, in that moment, that they were finally going to hear Olivia’s fate.
