Together for Christmas (15 page)

Flora wandered over to the bric-a-brac stall that was now standing where Fritz’s stall had been. A tall, middle-aged woman was serving behind it. She had a long nose, small, shrewd eyes
and hair stuffed under a shabby-looking felt hat. ‘Fancy a nice trinket or two for the holiday, dear?’ she asked, holding up a pretty brooch in the shape of a butterfly. ‘This
would suit you. Real silver and a sturdy clasp.’

‘It’s very nice, but I couldn’t afford it,’ Flora replied politely.

‘What do yer want then?’

‘I’m looking for some Christmas cards,’ Flora replied. ‘Some festive ones, with cheerful greetings.’

‘You won’t get many of those,’ the woman said, dropping the brooch back in the box and pointing to the front of the stall. ‘They’re out of fashion. But I’ve
got some nice ones there. I’ll give you tuppence off if you buy six.’

Flora gave the cards a swift glance. They all had crude drawings of the kaiser, or Kitchener, or soldiers or sailors; the jokes written on them didn’t seem very funny. ‘They’re
not for me, thank you. My friend is a soldier and I’d prefer something happy to remind him of home.’

‘Your sweetheart is he?’ the woman asked, giving Flora a wink.

‘No, a good friend.’

‘Oh, is that what you girls call ’em nowadays!’

Flora hesitated. She wasn’t sure she liked this woman. ‘Do you know what happened to Old Fritz?’

The female trader narrowed her eyes until they almost disappeared under the bags of loose skin. ‘He was kicked out of the market. Good riddance to him, too.’

‘But he’d been here a long while. He was a nice old man.’

‘Friend of his, are you?’ the stallholder said accusingly.

‘I was here the day he was attacked. He was treated very roughly.’

‘That’s because he was a dirty German. A spy, no doubt, for the other side.’

‘What rubbish!’ a deep voice said, causing Flora to look up into the solemn face of a young man wearing a peaked cap. He was tall and slim and dressed in army uniform. ‘I knew
the man,’ he said, looking sternly at the stallholder. ‘Like this young lady, I’m sorry to hear of such foul behaviour towards him.’

The woman’s thin lips curled and twisted. ‘A soldier like you should know better than to fraternize with the enemy. If you don’t want the same treatment, you’d better
keep that sort of opinion to yerself.’ She went off to join another trader.

‘Forgive me,’ the young man said to Flora, his face pinched by anger. ‘When I couldn’t find Fritz, I rather feared something may have happened to him.’

‘Did you know him well?’ Flora asked.

‘My mother is a customer of his. He sold very nice jewellery, not of the expensive kind, but quite charming pieces. I came here today to find a brooch or necklace she might like. A small
gift for Mama as, since coming home on sick leave, she’s looked after me rather well, despite my often miserable mood and complaints. But when I saw the space occupied by another stallholder,
and overheard your conversation, I realized that the poor old man had been singled out along with others of German extraction living in Britain.’

‘Then you know he couldn’t defend himself,’ Flora said passionately. ‘The crowd tore down his stall and spoiled his stock. He had to escape before they turned on
him.’

‘It doesn’t make sense, does it? A man can be good and decent, but his birthplace is against him.’

Flora saw his green eyes flash angrily in his weather-beaten face. The emotion drew in his gaunt features and although he could only have been in his mid-twenties, he looked older. But suddenly
he smiled, and Flora saw that this smile changed everything.

‘Please allow me to introduce myself.’ He swept off his cap, and his teeth flashed under his parted lips. ‘I’m Michael Appleby.’ He seemed, as he spoke, to draw a
halting breath, and an almost imperceptible wince indicated a moment of pain. Quickly returning his concentration to the moment, he laughed lightly. ‘I still can’t get used to this
damned thing.’ He nodded down at his walking cane. ‘The ridiculous article is more likely to trip me up than support me. But sadly I find it necessary to walk even a short
distance.’

Flora gestured to the benches under the canvas roof of the café. ‘Would you like to rest for a moment?’ Accustomed to helping the patients at the surgery, she reached out to
help him.

‘Heavens, there’s a thing!’ he exclaimed in surprise. ‘I must look an old crock, to be given such kind consideration.’

‘Oh, no!’ Flora drew back her hand sharply. ‘Of course you don’t. It’s just—’

‘I’m only teasing,’ he assured her. ‘And yes, I would very much like to rest. Would you care to join me? Perhaps a cup of tea or coffee would revive us both in this
miserable weather?’

Flora blushed deeply. ‘I hadn’t quite finished my shopping.’

‘How thoughtless of me!’ he exclaimed, looking disappointed. ‘But drinking on one’s own seems rather a sad thing to do.’

The light went out of his eyes and Flora hesitated. This was obviously a young man who had been wounded in battle. Surely she could spare a few minutes to console him! ‘I’m not in a
hurry,’ she decided. ‘Let’s sit at the back of the café where the roof doesn’t leak.’

‘Wonderful!’ The smile was back again and this time she saw what a perfect smile it was. Broad, full lips parted to reveal the whitest of teeth; the corners of his eyes creased into
laughter lines and returned his youthful looks. ‘Allow me to fetch the drinks. Something to warm you or perhaps lemonade?’

‘Lemonade would do very nicely.’

Flora watched him limp towards the tea stall. The sun had made a brief appearance, warming the damp streets, and she hadn’t even noticed.

‘Well, not too much lemonade spilt,’ Michael Appleby said, chuckling, as Flora took the tray from his firm grip. His green eyes were very penetrating, she thought,
and were enhanced by the dark shadows of exhaustion beneath. He removed his cap and ran his hand through his brown hair, cut unflatteringly short, service style. As he lowered his arm, Flora noted
the pattern on the cuffs of his dark-green-grey uniform denoting his rank: lieutenant.

‘Once again, I’m very pleased to meet you,’ he said as he sat beside her on the bench. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

‘It’s Flora,’ she told him softly.

‘Flora? How splendid! Do you come to the market often, Flora?’

‘I usually meet my friend Hilda here.’ Flora found herself wishing she’d taken more trouble with her own appearance before coming to the market. She had hurriedly put on her
old coat and grey cloche hat, with no thought as to whom she might meet. She realized that had never been bought anything by a young man before, except ice cream by Will. Nor given her name to a
total stranger. But for some reason that Flora couldn’t quite fathom, this didn’t really seem to matter.

‘So, Hilda didn’t show up today?’ He seemed interested, watching her intently as she pushed a loose strand of hair under her hat. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the tear in
the hat’s seam.

‘Hilda’s gone away,’ she explained as she sipped her lemonade, ‘to work in service.’ She couldn’t resist adding proudly, ‘For the Earl of
Talbott.’

‘Ah, the Calveys. A well-known military name.’

‘Do you know of them?’ she asked in surprise.

‘The fourth earl fought in both Boer wars,’ he told her, just as Mrs Bell had said. ‘Lord William was a fighting legend. However, the earl’s son showed no interest in his
father’s profession. Adelphi Hall is well known now for its many lavish parties.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Flora thought of what Mrs Bell had said about Hilda being faced with temptation.

The officer sat forward. ‘Have I said something to upset you?’

‘No, but . . .’ Flora felt she couldn’t confide in someone she had known only a short while. ‘It’s just that Surrey is so far from London. Hilda’s only
sixteen, you see. She’s never been away from home before.’

‘Did Hilda live here, in the East End, with her family?’

‘We’re both orphanage girls,’ Flora said, a little hesitantly. ‘Neither of us had been out of London before Hilda’s interview at Adelphi. I went with her as her
companion for the day.’

‘And all was well?’

‘Yes, Hilda had her heart set on Adelphi from the moment she saw it.’

‘Mama once visited there,’ he said with a thoughtful frown. ‘Most impressive, she said. But I would think a very big wrench for two good friends. No doubt you’ve seen
each other through thick and thin?’

Flora looked into his kind face. He seemed most understanding. ‘We look on each other as family. Together with Will, of course.’

‘Might this be the young man you were thinking of?’ he asked, quickly adding, ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t help overhearing what you said to the trader.’

‘Will was a volunteer for Kitchener last August. He was certain he’d be home by Christmas. Instead he’s been fighting ever since.’

Michael Appleby’s face became grim again. ‘Your friend was not alone in thinking the war would be over by Christmas. Indeed, some in the government promised a swift end to the
conflict. But how wrong they have been proved. Both the Western and Eastern Fronts are deplorable. We are gaining no measure against enemy lines.’

For a few minutes they fell silent. Then Flora asked, ‘And you? Are you recovering well from your wound?’

He gave a tight shrug. ‘I escaped with my life at the Dardanelles. But I have been dragging this dashed leg around with me for the past three months.’

‘We’ve read how bad it is at Gallipoli.’ Flora recalled the many articles the doctor had read aloud from the newspaper. She knew he was always hoping to find something that
would give him a clue to Wilfred’s disappearance.

‘Many of my men were lost,’ Michael Appleby said, dropping his chin. ‘Anzacs, French and British, falling side by side against the Turks. Had a bullet not torn through the
muscle in my leg and put me in the field hospital, I should be lying alongside of them.’

Flora knew that this young man was quite unlike any other she had ever met. He didn’t sound bitter from his experiences, as were some of the veterans she’d nursed. But she understood
the pain he must have suffered and, like Will, the nightmare he’d endured.

‘What is the outlook for your injury?’ she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too bold.

‘I’ve had several operations,’ he replied, ‘and am delaying more. The thought of returning to hospital and its rigours . . .’ He shook his head, turning away.

‘Perhaps you might speak to Dr Tapper,’ she suggested impulsively. ‘He’s a wonderful doctor. In the three years I’ve worked for him, he’s helped so many
people.’

‘You’re a nurse?’ He glanced at her sharply.

‘No, just the doctor’s assistant. He always does his very best for the wounded veterans.’

The lieutenant gave a soft sigh. ‘I’ve seen a number of medical men, only to be disappointed.’

‘You mustn’t give up hope.’

He smiled, tilting his head. ‘What splendid advice. I shall certainly try to take it.’

Was he teasing her? Flora blushed. She knew she had overstepped the mark. After all, they were perfect strangers.

The lieutenant moved his cane. Tapping it on the cobbles, he then stood up. ‘Is this doctor far from here? If you would allow me to drive you home in my car, then perhaps you could point
his surgery out to me. And then I should be able to call to see him at some future date.’

Flora told him where both she and the doctor lived. Holding out his arm for her to take, he invited her once more to be his passenger. ‘I shall take great care of you,’ he promised
as she hesitated. ‘Driving a car is the one thing I can still do quite easily.’

Flora had never travelled by motor car, though she had often admired the new form of motorized vehicles that were beginning to fill the London streets. Though she hadn’t known Michael
Appleby for more than an hour or so, she found herself accepting his offer.

Rising to her feet, she laid her hand lightly on his cuff.

‘The car is just an old jalopy,’ Michael Appleby explained as they left the market and walked to the next street. ‘While I’ve been off sick, the
mechanics have given me something to occupy my time.’ They stopped beside a large dark-red vehicle at the side of the road. It had a black roof and two large brass headlamps. ‘Well,
here she is, let me help you up.’

Flora felt panic. What was she to say to this stranger smiling at her with his intense gaze? She didn’t even know which door opened, or how you climbed into it.

‘Take my hand, place your foot on the running board there and I’ll do the rest.’

Flora did as she was told. Soon she was sitting comfortably in the front seat. Moments later, he had joined her.

‘Fortunately, I can operate the clutch with my good leg,’ he shouted above the racket of the engine. ‘The accelerator needs only a small pressure. You see?’

Flora wanted to say she had no idea what he was showing her. But the noise of the engine was too loud for her to speak above and so she just nodded. He grinned and released the lever beside him.
Flora heard a loud bang. It reminded her of the day that she and Hilda had travelled to Surrey and had heard a car on Tower Bridge make the same noise.

‘Hold tight!’

Before Flora could even blink, they were moving forward, the horn sounding loudly as they joined the flow of horse-drawn traffic.

Flora stood outside Tap House in the darkening light. She listened to the clatter of Michael Appleby’s car as it turned the corner and disappeared.

Would she ever see him again, she wondered? Flora shivered lightly. It was very cold now, though she hadn’t noticed in the motor car. She had been too excited and delighted by the feeling
of being swept along and the power that came from the throbbing engine.

From over the roofs of the houses came the distant sound of a barrel organ playing Christmas carols. Flora looked up at the sky. It was turning dark blue and stars studded the heavens. A very
bright star twinkled above. Reluctantly, she made her way down the airey’s steps. She had enjoyed the young man’s company, and the journey in the noisy, pulsating vehicle had been an
experience she would never forget.