‘Okay. I’ll get the bags. I suppose you wouldn’t consider putting the kettle on?’
‘I’ve got something better than tea.’
He raised his brow, clearly intrigued. How could men be so stupid? she thought.
When he came back in, she ordered him to put the bags down.
He did so and now he was grinning.
‘You’ve guessed, haven’t you?’
‘I think so.’
‘Well Jack Jackson, you and I are going to have a baby.’
His eyes widened, shining as a multitude of emotions played across his features. Amazement, joy, disbelief. He picked her up and whirled her around, then thought better of it and put her down excessively gently.
‘I won’t break,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Oh my darling girl, that is the best news. The very best news.’ Eyes brimming with tears, he said, ‘I want to shout it to the world. Have you told anyone?’
‘Of course not, idiot. I was waiting for you. But I’ll be too fat to get married in August. It will have to be April.’
So April it was, and when the morning of the wedding came round, Florence still didn’t know at what time Hélène would be arriving. Victoria, who was to be Florence’s flower girl, had to be fitted for her dress, so she and Élise had arrived a week before the big day with news that Hélène was planning to follow on. But so far there had been no sign of her. Florence had written to Friedrich telling him about the wedding and the baby. But she’d also had to explain how unwise it would be for him and Anton to come to England with so much bad feeling about the Germans still rumbling on.
I am to be a grandfather,he’d written back, sounding thrilled to bits.That will be enough for now.
Now Rosalie entered Florence’s bedroom, her eyes shining.
‘You have such beautiful blonde hair,’ she said. ‘I think we should just pin it with a flower at either temple and let it curl naturally to your shoulders. What do you think?’
‘Sounds lovely. Do you know where Élise is?’
‘Vicky tore her new dress. Élise is mending it while muttering ominously. My, but that little girl is a force of nature.’
Florence laughed. ‘Just like her mum.’
Élise would be her matron of honour as bridesmaid seemed the wrong term for someone who was already a mother. Although strictly speaking a matron of honour was a married woman.
‘Is Élise happy?’ Rosalie asked.
‘I suppose so. Why do you ask?’
‘Vicky’s father’s death.’
Florence shuddered at the memory. ‘When Victor was executed it was dreadful for all of us but obviously so much worse for her. He was such a brave man and she loved him so much.’
‘Love like that and an ending like that doesn’t fade.’ She paused. ‘But we mustn’t dwell on sadness today of all days.’
Florence nodded.
‘So … how are you feeling?’
‘I can hardly breathe for excitement. I swear I didn’t sleep a wink,’ Florence said.
Rosalie smiled. ‘Sit, eyes shut and relax while you have the chance.’
Florence did as she was told and sat there quietly, imagining her mother’s eyes on her, her cheeks flushed with pride and fussing about something that was not quite right. She laughed out loud.
