She shook the images away as she realised Jack had been asking her something and wished she didn’t keep going over these dark thoughts. But no one else could understand, no one else had been with them on those wild mountains with the constant risk of death. Just her and Jack. And then Hélène came into her mind again and a feeling of shame inflamed her cheeks as her sister’s face danced in the firelight.
CHAPTER 3
Two weeks later Florence was sitting at the kitchen table reading her mother’s letter for a second time. She needn’t have worried about how things would be after Jack had gone, becauseshewas going to be the first one to leave, after all. Though he was being extremely mysterious about when he would be leaving and where he would be going. Both Florence and Claudette had been thrilled with the news that after the success of D-Day, Germany had surrendered Paris on 25 August. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She smoothed down her hair and opened up to find a pint-sized woman wearing a faded grey jumper, baggy green corduroy trousers, and black wellington boots. She had dark, raisin-like eyes that crinkled as she smiled and her white hair hung in a thick plait down her back.
‘Oh, you must be Gladys,’ Florence said, ‘from the farm.’
The woman bent down to pick up a basket, its contents covered by a tea towel displaying a Union Jack, the red and blue faded with age and the white rather grey. ‘I am indeed, and this here … is Gregory,’ she said and laughed, her eyes crinkling up.
Florence glanced down at the duck now waddling into the kitchen behind the woman.
‘Comes everywhere with me. Hope you don’t mind.’
‘You are both most welcome. Jack told me you might be popping in.’
‘Out, is he?’
Florence nodded.
Gladys glanced at the letter lying on the table. ‘Don’t want to disturb you if you’re busy.’
‘Oh, I’m not. It’s just a letter from my mother. She’s expecting me the day after tomorrow and she’s sent directions about how to get to her place in the Cotswolds.’
‘She’ll be happy to see you. Jack said you have sisters still living in France.’
‘Yes. Hélène and Élise. I’ve written to let them know I’ve arrived here, but you never know with the post. I haven’t heard back so I just hope they received it.’
‘I’m sure you do, love. It must be hard.’
‘It is. I don’t know how they are or what’s happening over there now. Hélène is a nurse you know, for the local doctor, and Élise is expecting a baby. I worry about them.’
‘And you’ve come all the way over here …’ Gladys glanced at her with a question in her eyes. ‘To be with your mother?’
Florence couldn’t tell her the truth about why she’drisked such a long and hazardous journey to England, so after a moment she simply said, ‘It’s rather a long story, but yes.’
Gladys seemed to catch her reluctance and changed the subject. ‘Here, I’ve brought a couple of bits for Jack.’
She plonked the basket down on the table and whipped off the tea towel with a flourish.
Florence glanced down at a beautiful brown loaf nestling in the middle of the basket along with a bottle of something golden. She sniffed. ‘You’re very kind. The bread smells divine, and I can’t wait to know what’s in the bottle.’
Gladys smiled. ‘Gooseberry wine.’
‘How lovely. I used to make fruit wines in France.’
‘Miss it, do you dear? It must feel strange for you coming here while we are all still fighting this terrible war and everyone so weary and plain.’
‘It is. But it was worse in France.’
‘Yes, at least we don’t have the Nazis over here. But the fighting’s gone on too long and everyone’s worried for their menfolk over on the Continent or out in the East.’
Florence murmured that she understood.
‘And people are hungry, them that’s in town that is. Us, with the farm, we’re all right. We grow veg to send to the hospitals here, you know.’
Florence nodded, noting the tone of pride in the older woman’s voice.
‘We all do our bit. I wanted to send food to the Red Cross to parcel up for our boys overseas, but they only need tinned food. You know, condensed milk, Spam,corned beef, processed cheese. Stuff that doesn’t go off. The boys mostly want chocolate and tobacco. That sort of thing.’
