He came to her immediately, picked her up and carried her to the bed. ‘Light as a feather,’ he said.
‘I am not. Gladys spent months feeding me up and I ate like a pig in Sicily.’
He kissed her on the nose. ‘An adorable little pig.’
Early the next morning, Florence wrote to Hélène. She’d been putting it off but now she forced herself to sit down and do it.
My dear, dear Hélène,’ she wrote and chewed her pen.
I am now finally in Malta with Jack, hoping to find Rosalie. We arrived today. It has been very badly hit – so many beautiful old buildings were destroyed during the war. Did you know there were 3,000 raids on this tiny island? Hard to believe but the damage is everywhere. The people were starving at one point too, as supplies couldn’t get through. No medicines either. It breaks my heart to think of it. It really does.
But on to other things. I hope you, Élise, and my gorgeous niece Victoria are well. I want to see you all so much, but before that happens there’s something I must tell you.
When we were in Sicily before coming here, Jack asked me to marry him, and I accepted. I do hope this news won’t dismay you. I know you and he were once close. We only got together very recently while in Sicily. As you know, when I was living in Devon, he was rarely there. But during that time, I agonised about my growing feelings for him, and I now know he was doing the same about me. I’m so sorry, Hélène. I hope you canunderstand this. Better still I hope you’ve found someone yourself or will do so soon.
He has given me permission to tell you about a couple of things he couldn’t talk about when he was in France. Firstly, he was still married then, although now the divorce is final. It’s terribly sad but he and his ex-wife Belinda had a little boy who died in the war aged four. I think it explains a lot about how he was when you knew him.
He has been grieving for his son all this time but is coming through it now.
So, there it is.
I’m sending you all my love. Please hug the others for me. Oh, I nearly forgot … when I last saw Maman, she looked thin. If the telephone lines are up and running again, could you call her from the surgery and see if you can find out if she is all right? She’s fanatical about me finding Rosalie so I shall do my best. Maybe we can all finally be together again before too long.
With my love always,
Florence xxx
Jack had already gone out, so she dressed and decided to find somewhere to post the letter. Lured by the smell of real coffee and baking, she stopped for breakfast at a small café. After she’d eaten, the café owner came over to ask if she needed anything else and, knowing she’d have to start somewhere, Florence spoke in English.
‘I’m wondering how to find a missing person here.’
The woman sucked in her cheeks. ‘Many missing after the bombing. Most accounted for now. When was this?’
‘I don’t know. She may have been here for years. A French woman. Rosalie Delacroix?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Never heard the name. Sorry. Try the city archives, what’s left of ’em, or the town hall records.’
There was a pause as the woman narrowed her eyes as if thinking. ‘I don’t know if this will help but my cousin’s son, he is a professor at the university. He knows people.’ She scribbled something in her notebook, tore the page out and passed it to Florence.
Back out in the street people were picking their way around heaps of rubble still waiting to be cleared. She asked an old man where she would find the city archives and he pointed in the direction of the town hall.
‘It’s all there,’ he said. ‘What’s left.’
‘Could you tell me where the registry office is too?’
He scratched his head. ‘Not sure now. It was moved during the war.’
When Florence asked to check the records at the town hall, the clerk was unhelpful. Frowning and shaking his head, he sat behind a neat, highly polished mahogany desk, with a painting of Malta looking golden and untouched by war behind him.
She stood her ground and gave him the broadest smile. ‘How beautiful it must have been,’ she said, glancing at the painting.
He muttered something she couldn’t hear.
‘Look, I’ve come all the way from England to find my aunt. I need to know if she survived the bombing. If she was even here that is.’
‘You have authorisation to look at the records?’
‘Where do I get that?’
