‘Have you always wanted to be a doctor?’ she asked.
‘I was born wanting to be a doctor. When I was young our cats and dogs used to hide when they saw me running towards them wielding strips of newspaper and glue which I claimed was ointment to make them better.’
She laughed. ‘It must be hard though at times, being a hospital doctor.’
‘Not as hard as it is for the soldiers who come backfrom the war. It’s not just broken bones or missing limbs.’
‘Yes, I know. My sister Hélène is a nurse in France.’
‘I’d like to meet her one day. Compare notes.’
Bruce was different from Jack, more direct, with fewer complications and contradictions. He knew what he was doing, had a clear purpose in life. She liked that. On their way back to the car she slipped on the icy ground, so he linked arms with her. She liked that too.
When he dropped her back home, he grasped her mittened hand and squeezed it. ‘I’d love to see you again,’ he said. ‘And maybe when the weather improves we might try another trip on the bike? Perhaps to the coast. Though any beach suitable for amphibious landing is likely to be mined so we’d need to choose carefully.’
At the cottage Florence did her best to behave as normally as possible. Jack didn’t say much about her outing with Bruce but seemed more taciturn than usual and refused to meet her eyes. But then, on Christmas Eve, he cut down a pine tree and dragged it into the house. It was a surprise and she felt as if he’d done it as a kind of peace offering.
‘There are some tree decorations in the attic, I think. My grandmother was always so fond of her tree. I’ll look later.’ And then he went outside and brought back holly, ivy, and a cardboard box. ‘There are pinecones in there,’ he said.
She clapped her hands, pleased. ‘I’ll do the decorating while you look for the tree baubles.’
‘There may be carols on the wireless,’ he said. ‘Would that help?’
‘Nothing like carols to get us in the festive spirit.’
‘Talking of spirits,’ he added. ‘I’ve discovered an old bottle of Armagnac at the back of what remains of the booze store. Should still be good. Thought it would remind you of home.’
She nodded but kept her face turned away.
‘You all right, Florence?’ he asked.
She nodded again but still didn’t look at him, missing home so much but steeling herself not to cry in front of him.
As she sang along to all her favourite carols, she felt better, and draped the ivy over the mantelpiece adding pinecones and holly. It was a great year for the cheery red berries and before long she had the whole room looking festive. She noticed he hadn’t brought in any mistletoe.
Sometime later he came downstairs carrying a wooden box. ‘I think this is it,’ he said.
He placed it on the coffee table, then lifted the lid. She carefully rummaged in the box and saw there were individual packages wrapped in silk. Once he’d sorted out the tree and it was firmly held in place with broken bricks and a layer of pebbles on top, she lifted out one of the packages. She unwrapped it to find a little white woodpecker with green wings and a hole in the top concealed by a metal cap with a little wire loop.
‘These blown ornaments of hers were all handmade and hand-painted,’ he said.
‘It’s so delicate. I’m scared I’ll break it.’
‘You won’t.’
He took out a package from the box, this time revealing a tiny glass gingerbread house, gold and covered in hearts. He held it up for her.
‘I’ll get some thread and scissors. These need to be safely tied onto the tree right away.’
Once she’d returned, they carried on opening the packages and hanging glass ornaments in the shape of hearts, more birds, stars and angels. All high enough up so the kitten couldn’t reach them.
‘There’s an invoice or something here,’ she said. ‘Handwritten from …’ and she peered at it. ‘Ah yes. Lauscha, Germany.’
‘Then some of those baubles probably date from well before the Great War.’
She unwrapped two heavy glass bunches of red grapes.
‘Heavens above,’ he said. ‘I remember those. Haven’t seen them for years. Those are original German kugels … I must have been only five or six years old when my grandmother let me hold one. She had bunches of grapes, but also apples, pears, pinecones, berries. Let’s see if there are more.’
