Then, when the music went more upbeat, several more couples joined the dancing and then more and more untileveryone was swing dancing in variations of the jitterbug, even Gladys and Ronnie, which made Florence smile. The band played the music of Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman, and a female singer joined them to sing the hit songs from the last few years. ‘We’ll Gather Lilacs’, ‘I Dream of You’, ‘The One I Love’, and more. Then the dance music started up again, jazzy and fun, but Florence was roasting and told Jack she needed a breath of fresh air.
‘I’ll come,’ he said.
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll go on my own. Dance with somebody else now. Rosalie maybe.’ But then she saw Rosalie already on the floor with Gerry. ‘Élise then.’
Dodging the dancing couples but having to speak to one or two who congratulated her and told her what a fine man Jack was and how much he deserved some happiness, she finally made her way through the cigarette smoke and the loud voices to the exit. At last! The moment she was outside she took deep breaths of cool air. In the sweet breeze her lungs expanded, and a feeling of calm washed over her. She closed her eyes and let everything drift. She was married. A day that she had hoped for but had thought might never come, had come. She loved Jack. With all her heart, her soul, her body, she loved him. She patted her tummy, a little rounded now but not too obvious if you didn’t know.And I shall love you too, little one. And that is a promise. When she opened her eyes, she saw birds flying over and heard others singing in the trees. A few clouds drifted by, and she felt something she couldn’t quite name. She spotted a couple walking up the road and forjust a moment she thought the woman might be Hélène. It wasn’t. Her insides twisted with longing. She turned to go back inside but heard her name being called.
‘Baudin,’ a young lad was saying. ‘Telegram for Baudin.’
‘Yes,’ Florence said, seeing the telegram boy, and with a shiver of anxiety she held out her hand for it. ‘That’s me.’
She tore open the telegram, saw the words Post Office at the top with the picture of the crown and read.
So sorry. I won’t be able to make it after all. I wish you both well. Hélène.
‘I tried to deliver it to your house,’ the boy was saying. ‘Meadowbrook, ain’t it? But a neighbour up on the hill said you’d be here getting married like, so I came. Not strictly allowed, mind.’
‘No,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You’re fine. Thank you.’
Duty done, he backed away, gave her a nod, and hurriedly left.
Florence stood on the pavement not a bit aware of the passers-by who’d stopped to stare and were giving her curious looks, a girl in her wedding dress with tears in her eyes.
‘Bad news, love?’ one kind soul asked and patted her hand. ‘Never mind dear. You just get on and enjoy your day.’
Florence nodded then pressed a hand to her mouth. Hélène really wasn’t coming and at that moment Florence understood how deep the rift between them had become.It seemed impossible. How could she be getting married without her eldest sister?
She turned back towards the hall, and stopped in the doorway where Jack and Élise were talking.
‘There was a telegram,’ Florence said, fighting back tears again. ‘Hélène isn’t coming.’
Élise put an arm around her. ‘I’m so sorry. Did she say why?’
Florence shook her head and handed Élise the telegram to read for herself. Jack shot her a worried look.
‘I’m all right,’ she said and took a deep breath. ‘I can’t let this spoil everything. Come on, let’s cut the cake.’
She glanced inside the hall and, seeing the broad smiles on the faces of the people she loved most in the world, apart from Hélène, Florence felt the joy and the sadness at almost at the same.
‘Where’s Vicky?’ she asked.
Élise sighed dramatically. ‘With Rosalie, thank God. Our aunt is a miracle worker because I tell you, much more of this behaviour and that little girl will be the death of me. Are small children always this rebellious?’
Florence laughed. ‘You were, God help you when she’s a teenager.’
Élise frowned for a moment, about to deny it, but then she gave in and laughed too.
‘Come on,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t know where it came from, but my father has unearthed some real champagne to have with the cake.’
As she and Jack walked up to the main table, Florence glanced at all the people gathered there and thought overthe day. She had married the man she loved, surrounded by all the people she cared about, except for one. She vowed she would do everything she could to rectify things with Hélène – her sister would surely have to forgive her one day, wouldn’t she?
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ she said to Jack. ‘All this. Life goes on, doesn’t it?’
He nodded.
In this post-war time, with life still so grim, rationing still happening, and people suffering from the loss of friends and family, it had been a funny make-do kind of wedding, but even more magical because of that. And seeing the radiant smiling faces, her heart danced, and Florence knew she would never forget the generosity of her friends. Jack’s quiet loving presence throughout the day had filled her with such a feeling of intoxication she felt she might simply take off and fly. She laughed at herself. Perhaps she had just drunk too much elderflower champagne.
At the table she closed her eyes briefly, said a prayer for her mother and all her family and then, with her hand on top of Jack’s, they cut the first slice of their wonderfully lopsided home-made wedding cake. Jack grinned at her and her heart seemed to explode with possibility and hope. They had survived the war, in France and England, and their whole lives lay before them. Florence couldn’t wait to see what would come next. The birth of their child of course, which meant more than she could say. But as she looked down the years all she could see was the love – the love that would see them through – whatever might be heading their way.
