He stood up, smiling broadly. ‘Two whole days off. I just dropped by to let you know Mum can’t make it to the WI this evening, so no need to pick her up.’
Gladys turned to Florence. ‘This is my friend Grace’s boy. Bruce, this is my neighbour, Florence.’
He stepped round the table to shake her hand. Florence studied him. Tall and slender with dark curly hair, cut short, he had warm hazel eyes. She liked the look of himandthe way he was so comfortable with Gladys.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Message delivered. Better be making tracks.’
‘On that old boneshaker of yours?’
‘Of course.’ He smiled and pecked her on the cheek. ‘Be seeing you. Cheerio, Florence.’
Gladys had a sparkle in her eyes and, as soon as he hadgone, said, ‘Only twenty-eight and a registrar, you know, at the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital. Known him since he was a nipper.’
‘I’m sure you must be proud. He seems lovely.’
‘You might wonder why he hasn’t been snapped up.’
‘Not really, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’
Gladys gave her a studied look. ‘I wouldn’t want to see him hurt, mind, but you could do worse than our Bruce. He was engaged to an Exeter girl, but when he went away to work, she went off with one of them Americans.’
‘Oh dear.’
Gladys pulled a face. ‘Flibbertigibbet she was.’
Florence hid her smile. ‘Sounds like he’s well out of it, Gladys.’
‘Did you know when the bombs rained down on Devonshire towns during the Blitz, expectant mothers in the maternity ward of Exeter hospital were given enamel bowls and blankets to wear on their heads as protection.’
Florence laughed. ‘Goodness. Not sure that would have helped much.’
‘Well as it turns out the hospital wasn’t hit, so we’ll never know. Bruce will tell you all about it if you ask him. Now, would you like to see yours now or later,’ Gladys said, in an innocent voice.
‘Mine?’
‘The little marmalade kitten I’ve saved for you. I’ve called him Bart and he’s adorable.’
Florence smiled. ‘I know what you’re trying to do.’
‘There is one added benefit,’ Gladys added conspiratorially.
‘Oh?’
‘Belinda is allergic to cat hair.’
Florence burst out laughing. ‘You devious so-and-so, but you know I can’t adopt a cat when I don’t even know where I’ll be living.’
As Florence lay on the bed in Jack’s room resting on one elbow and staring at the map of Malta she’d borrowed from Gladys, she felt completely in limbo. Now that Belinda was still here it had changed everything; her own future was unsettled, and she really didn’t know what to do. There was nothing satisfying about this kind of uncertainty. With nowhere to really call home, if she could go to Malta right this minute, she believed she jolly well might. At least it would give her something useful to do with herself. It would make her mother happy too, and Florence liked making other people happy. She’d already written back to Claudette thanking her and saying she would visit again.
Florence loved Jack’s room. It had a window to the front and another to the back. Not as masculine as she expected but, with pleasing honey-coloured beams, striped blue and white curtains, polished floorboards, and a couple of Persian rugs, it had a cheery air. A wooden filing cabinet took up one corner and shelves stuffed with box files and books lined part of one wall. She couldn’t stop herself peeking in his wardrobe but forced herself not to examine everything on, or in, his large desk beneath the windowat the back. She curled up on his bed and read for a while, but by late afternoon was hungry so made her way down to the kitchen. No sign of Belinda, thank goodness, but she still felt a bit wary.
She went to the larder and saw that the last bottle of sherry was gone and what had been a small block of treasured cheese was lying under its net cover hacked to pieces. Florence frowned. No prizes for guessing what had happened there.
Hearing odd noises coming from the drawing room, she paused. It sounded like Belinda muttering, maybe arguing with somebody, but when Florence listened carefully, she could hear the woman was arguing with herself. With an anxious fluttering in her tummy now, Florence wasn’t hungry any more. She went into the hall.
‘Ah, there you are. Come in,’ Belinda drawled, her eyes glittering. ‘Drink?’
‘I don’t much like sherry.’
