The Promise (52 page)

‘Was that the one where you said don’t ever turn up at my door?’ Vera said as she stepped into the hall.

‘Yes, that was the one,’ Belle replied, but aware that she must tell Vera about Jimmy and Garth before she introduced her to Mog, she put the suitcase down, opened the front door again and drew her back outside.

‘Fair enough. It was nice to see you if only for a second,’ Vera said, but her wide smile faded when she saw Belle’s anxious expression. ‘I’ve come at a bad time?’

‘No, it’s a good time, but I need to tell you what’s happened before we go back in. It was in the letter you didn’t get. Both Garth and Jimmy died of the flu, less than a week apart.’

Vera’s jaw dropped.

‘It was four weeks ago. We’re both over the worst of the shock now, well, at least we’ve come to terms with it.’

‘I can go,’ Vera said in alarm. ‘I am so sorry. I don’t want to intrude at such a time.’

‘You don’t need to do that. Mog was as glad to hear you were coming as I was.’ Belle caught hold of Vera’s arm to stress that she meant it. ‘We could do with a little light relief from one another.’

Vera just looked at her for a moment. ‘I can hardly believe it. I am so very sorry, Belle,’ she said. ‘Oh, my goodness! Could I have arrived at a worse possible time?’

Belle smiled. ‘Your timing is fine. I just wish I’d written straight away so you’d had advance warning. I don’t want you to feel awkward. Now, come on in and meet Mog.’

Vera was hesitant as Mog came forward to greet her. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs Franklin,’ she said. ‘Belle’s just told me.’

‘And Belle told me what a good friend you were to her in France,’ Mog replied, and opening her arms she moved forward to embrace Vera. ‘You are very welcome here, my dear, and do call me Mog.’

Belle felt easier then. Mog liked to have someone to fuss over, and she knew Vera would appreciate a bit of mothering too.

Over in France Belle had often observed that Vera could enchant people. It was partly her cheeky, freckled face, her wide grin and irreverent sense of humour, and partly her keen interest in anything and everything. When she told a story she painted a picture with words, and she was a good listener too, one of those rare people who made whoever she was listening to feel they were the most fascinating person in the world.

After they’d had their dinner Belle lit the fire in the living room upstairs. September had been warm, and now in October it was still mild during the day, but cold in the evening.

It was good to sit round the fire and talk, reminding Belle of Sundays before Jimmy went off to the war. Back then, Sundays had been special because the pub was closed. They would have a huge roast dinner and then go up to the living room to relax and chat. Garth and Mog invariably fell asleep, but later they would play cards and Garth would regale them with some of the gossip he’d heard over the bar during the week.

Mog used to hang on Garth’s every word, laughing at all his jokes, but now it was Vera’s spell she was falling under. Belle felt like hugging her friend for taking Mog out of herself, telling her funny stories about the hospital, or about her family back in New Zealand. Mog loved the fact that they had a bakery, and she and Vera swopped stories about baking cakes or making pastry with almost identical passion. Later Mog talked about Garth’s death, something she perhaps hadn’t felt able to do with Belle, and as Vera had seen so many men with the Spanish flu she was able to convince Mog that she’d done all anyone could do for Garth.

Around eight in the evening Mog went off to bed, but before she went she suggested that the next day they took Vera up to see Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace and the Changing of the Guard. ‘We could go in that new place we read about in the newspaper. Lyons Corner House,’ she said. Then she looked at Belle and smiled. ‘And let’s not wear black. I’m sure Garth and Jimmy wouldn’t want us looking like two old crows.’

‘You’ve really helped her,’ Belle said once Mog had gone and the door was closed. ‘We’ve only just come back from the seaside and she became a lot brighter while we were there, but today she’s been the way she was before I went to France. Thank you for that.’

‘I think she’s a treasure,’ Vera said. ‘She and my mother would get on like a house on fire. They are remarkably similar in many ways. But tell me about you, Belle. The whole thing. I know all about Garth but nothing about you and Jimmy.’

Belle had told Vera a few things in her letters, but she’d made light of the difficulties she’d had with Jimmy. However, as she started to open up, Vera picked her up on various points until she was finally able to spill it all out: the anger, hurt, loneliness and disappointment she felt, plus her guilt because of Etienne. Vera was shocked to hear he was dead too.

‘How dreadful for you to hear it that way!’ she exclaimed. ‘No one to confide in, keeping your feelings hidden. I wonder you didn’t go mad.’

‘I deserved it all,’ Belle said sadly. ‘When I think of all the nights I lay awake thinking about Etienne and wanting him so badly, how could I be hurt that Jimmy never wanted to make love to me?’

‘Didn’t he ever?’

Belle shook her head. ‘Not once. I really thought if I could bring that back we’d be all right. But he wouldn’t. He got angry with me for trying to make him. In the end I just gave up. Yet I did love him, Vera; what I felt for him was quite separate from my feelings for Etienne. He said he was sorry when he was dying, and I know he meant for rejecting me.’

‘How odd it was that Etienne rescued him!’ Vera said thoughtfully. ‘He knew who Jimmy was yet he saved him. I’d say that was because he knew he’d never be able to face you again if he didn’t.’

‘Maybe. The irony of it was that Jimmy wished he hadn’t been saved. I often ask myself how I would’ve felt if he’d died then and I’d been free to be with Etienne. Perhaps it’s just as well it didn’t work out that way.’

Vera reached out and wiped a tear from Belle’s cheek. ‘I’m not going to let you wallow in guilt any more. You did the right thing by Jimmy. No one could’ve done more. So what now? The war is going to end very soon. You can start a new chapter in your life and you’ve got to make sure that whatever you do, it’s for you, not for anyone else.’

‘An old friend said more or less the same thing,’ Belle said. ‘Mog’s selling this place as we can’t and don’t want to run it. Mog wants a tea shop.’

‘Here in Blackheath?’ Vera asked.

‘No, we want to move right away, but we don’t know where yet.’

‘Why don’t you come to New Zealand?’

Belle laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. We couldn’t do that.’

‘Why not? A real new start, a beautiful place, lots of space and opportunity. We speak English, in fact most of us are of British stock. You’d love it. I’d get both of you married off in no time.’

‘When you haven’t even got yourself married off?’ Belle raised one eyebrow.

‘I wanted different things then, namely adventure. But after what I’ve seen in France I’d happily settle for everything my mother has – a kind man, children, peace of mind and good friends around me.’

‘New Zealand does sound wonderful,’ Belle admitted. ‘When I came back here I often used to daydream about things you told me, going out on a boat to fish, the sunshine, the turquoise sea. The sea was grey in Brighton, and very cold.’

‘My parents would be glad to put you both up till you got settled,’ Vera said. ‘Mog could have a tea shop in Russell, you could make hats again, or you could take in paying guests. My mother is always saying we need a haberdashery shop. If women want dress material, cotton or buttons they have to order it from Auckland and wait for it to come on the steamer.’

‘Mog wouldn’t want to go to the other side of the world.’

‘I bet she would, she’s got an adventurous soul.’

Belle giggled. ‘The most adventurous Mog gets is trying a new recipe.’

‘I think she’d surprise you. From what I’ve seen today, I’d say she’d be game for almost anything, just as long as you were with her. What have you got in England to keep you here?’

Belle thought for a moment, but nothing sprang to mind. She had a mother, but she wouldn’t lose any sleep about not seeing her again. The only true friends she had were Noah and Lisette, but they had their family and a life of their own. The thought of being somewhere where her past would never come up again was very seductive.

‘You want to come, don’t you?’ Vera crowed.

‘Maybe,’ Belle said cautiously.

They moved on then to talk about the hospital in France. Belle wanted to hear about all the people she had made friends with there.

‘Captain Taylor died of the flu,’ Vera said. ‘David has a sweetheart, a nurse called Charlotte West.’

‘Is that the one in Ward M, with a birthmark on her cheek?’

‘Yes, that’s her. Nothing to look at, but really jolly. David is totally smitten with her. Sally was mean about it, said they’d be perfect for each other as they are both misfits.’

‘If ever there was a misfit, she’s one,’ Belle giggled. ‘I’m glad for him, he’s a good man and he’ll be improved after a bit of passion.’

‘I hope I get some before long,’ Vera said impishly. ‘I want to be wild and reckless like you and Miranda were.’

‘Maybe you’ll get the chance on the voyage home,’ Belle laughed.

They took the train into Charing Cross the next day. It was a cold but bright day. Both Belle and Mog had abandoned mourning clothes but chosen outfits that were quietly dignified. Belle wore a pale grey peplum-waisted costume she hadn’t worn since before she went to France, and a grey hat with pink velvet roses on it. Mog chose a deep lilac wool jacket over a paler mauve dress, her beloved fox fur, and a hat trimmed with purple feathers.

Belle had given Vera an emerald-green brocade coat of hers which she felt was too frivolous for a widow but perfect for her red-haired friend. She teamed it with a hat that had been unsold when she closed the shop, a frothy paler green confection of tulle and velvet.

Vera was thrilled by her appearance. All her clothes, and she had very few, were drab and utilitarian, and she said she was sick of the sight of them. She had told Belle when they were in France that women in Russell were not a bit fashion-conscious, mostly because it was so cut off from bigger towns and cities. But being in France, and with influence from Belle and Miranda, her interest in clothes had been awakened. She said she planned to buy a new dress and some more elegant shoes so she could catch the eye of an officer on the long voyage home.

It had been a very long time since Belle and Mog had been into London’s West End and though the buildings hadn’t changed, it seemed everything around them had. The Strand and the area around Trafalgar Square were teeming with automobiles rather than the hundreds of horse-drawn cabs, carriages and carts they remembered. Four years of war had made everything seem tired; it was reflected in people’s faces and the shop windows. There were so many men in uniform, either home on leave or going back to France, and on every corner there seemed to be a man on crutches or blinded, selling anything from matches to shoe laces and newspapers.

Outside Charing Cross Station there was a queue of ambulances collecting wounded men from a hospital train. Belle and Vera paused to watch a couple of women lifting stretchers into them, a poignant reminder of France. They had already seen a tea stall on the station run by a couple of well-dressed ladies which had made Belle think of Miranda and brought a lump to her throat.

‘We must get away from here,’ Mog said firmly, perhaps aware of what Belle was thinking. ‘We want Vera to go home with good memories of London.’

Vera was beside herself with excitement as they went down the Mall and she saw Buckingham Palace ahead of her. ‘I can’t believe I’m really seeing it at last,’ she said. ‘We had a picture of it at school and I used to imagine what it was like inside.’

Belle couldn’t help but remember the day Jimmy had brought her here to see it. She was just fifteen then, only eight years ago, but it seemed more like twenty because so much had happened in the intervening years. The memory of that lovely day with him in the snow had sustained her after she was abducted.

As she and Mog pointed out St James’s Park, Clarence House and other points of interest, accompanied by a potted history, Belle had the sensation Jimmy was close by, urging her to put aside the past and plan a brand-new future.

She put her hand in Mog’s, and smiled at her. ‘Shall we go to Seven Dials later and say a final goodbye?’ she asked.

Mog squeezed her hand and nodded agreement.

It was while they were in the new and very imposing Lyons Corner House that Belle raised the question of New Zealand. All three of them were tired now, they’d walked what seemed miles, and seen so much. Yet it had been the last port of call, Seven Dials, to see the Ram’s Head, Garth’s old public house just along the street from Annie’s brothel where Belle had been born, that had affected them all most deeply.

Vera knew much of the story, the burnt-out brothel and how Garth took Mog and Annie in to live with him and Jimmy. But to see the dirty, narrow streets, the poverty and the deprivation in Seven Dials after the splendour and majesty of palaces, royal parks and Westminster Abbey was quite a shock for her.

For Belle and Mog a thousand and one memories came flooding back, both good and bad, as they stood across the street from the Ram’s Head and remarked on how shabby and small it looked. It was also a jolt to realize how far they had gone and how much they had changed since those days.

They saw prostitutes lurking in doorways, and evidence that there were just as many brothels, if not more, than in their time. The ragged children who called out to them for pennies were just the same too, as were the mangy dogs, the ancient old crones sucking on pipes and the drunks reeling down the street.

They didn’t linger, just paused briefly in front of the Ram’s Head. Mog shed a few tears, and told Vera about the first time Garth had kissed her and said he loved her. As they went down through Covent Garden Belle thought of the seventeen-year-old Jimmy holding her hand as they ran and slid down the icy streets, and how good it had been to find a real friend.