But Florrie had grabbed her basket of washing and was hurrying to the bedroom door, head bowed and cheeks on fire. Bobby watched her go, utterly bewildered.
Bobby puzzled over the strange little list as she walked back to Moorside.
She couldn’t make it out. It read like a list of presents that Florrie was intending to give. But they weren’t new things; they were Florrie’s things – all her favourite toys, books and keepsakes. She couldn’t be planning to give away her most precious possessions as Christmas gifts, surely? And why would she want the thing typed, and what had she meant about the law?
Jess – my half of our doll house and tobboggann and Ace. All my clothes when she grows into them, and my ivery hairbrush that she loves
Lilian – pickture of Tyron Powere in the seashell frame I made, and my coral knecklace
Dad – all my most preshush things, and the juwelery what was ma’s, except the pearls that are for Mary
Annie – my best doll Susie, and any of my toys that Jess is too big for
Louis Butcher – my whistle Reg made me, and my bow and arrow
And so on. Every person Florrie was close to in Silverdale was listed, and some from her old life in London.
Bobby looked again at the item next to her own name.Story book with the monkeys’ tea party story she loved– that was the book Florrie had written herself, beavering away to fill it with stories. She prized it above all things. Why would she give something so precious away for a Christmas present? The other things too – her mother’s valuable pearls, and the coral necklace her Uncle Jack had given her before he had been killed in the war?
Suddenly, it hit Bobby what the list really was. Why Florrie had been so concerned the list should be made legal and ‘proper’. Why she had written out this inventory of her possessions alongside the names of the people she loved most.
‘Oh, the poor, poor love,’ Bobby murmured.
This wasn’t a list of Christmas presents. It was Florrie’s will.
Chapter 4
Bobby wasted no time in bearing the sombre document to Mary in the kitchen at Moorside. It was she who had always been the girls’ confidante, and was the closest thing they had to a mother.
‘Her will!’ Mary said as she looked over the document. ‘What on earth can have prompted her to do that?’
‘I was hoping you might know.’
‘Nay, she’s noan said a word to me.’
Bobby was silent while she wrestled with nausea. The kitchen was filled with what under other circumstances would be the delicious fragrance of cinnamon and candied fruits, but right now it wasn’t agreeing with her at all.
‘She must believe she’s ill,’ Bobby said when she had the sick feeling under control. She pulled up a chair next to Mary at the kitchen table.
‘Nonsense,’ Mary said stoutly. ‘I’ve never seen such a healthy specimen of a bairn.’
‘She looked ever so tired today, Mary.’
‘Oh, that’s nobbut her age.’
‘Well she’s obviously worried about something. And Jess seemed so frightened for her.’
Mary smoothed Florrie’s will down in front of her. ‘She’d have left me her mother’s pearls,’ she murmured. ‘The most precious thing she has. My poor lamb.’
‘She can’t really be sickening for something, can she?’
‘It’ll be nowt. The child’s always had too much imagination for her own good. You remember how she was about our Charlie flying, half convinced she could see into the future.’
‘What should we do?’
‘I’ll speak to the girl. Happen she’ll open up to me. And if not… we’ll have to talk to her father about calling the doctor, I suppose.’
They were interrupted by the arrival of Lilian.
