So she had found a soulmate with whom she could share her dreams and learn a great deal about theatrical rules.
Peggy was looking forward to Florette’s future as such as she could never have for herself, and, with a guilt-free Marian and Mary Grace her usual steady self, fitting in with everyone’s mood, that began as a very happy afternoon.
Terry Travers, the conjurer, had given Florette some cuttings about his show in Blackpool; she had stuck them in her book and brought it along to show us. There was no room for it on the table, so she had left it in the cloakroom.
Halfway through the afternoon the sirens wailed forth their warning. As usual, no one took much notice of this. Then suddenly a shrill whistle was heard throughout the building. It was the “imminent.” That meant that whatever was coming our way was very close indeed.
We stood up, and, as we did so, we saw the object come into view. I had never before seen a Flying Bomb at such close quarters. It was almost on a level with the window and moved in a lopsided way which indicated that it had been damaged.
We stared in horror. It was too late to take cover now. The thing was upon us.
Florette cried: “I’ve left my cuttings book in the cloakroom,” which would have made us laugh because she could think of such a thing at a moment when death was staring us in the face. But this was no laughing matter.
“You, you,” said the thing very loudly. We scrambled under the table. Any moment now it would drop and that would be the end of us and everyone in the building. I was aware of Mary Grace beside me. She gripped my hand. I started to think of the past: the miniatures she had painted of Dorabella and me, the day I had given mine to Dorabella, the time when we had thought my sister was drowned … waiting for news of Jowan after Dunkirk …
Time slowed down. There was no sound in the room except that of the relentless engine which could stop at any second … and that would be the end.
“You, you.” It was slightly fainter. Billy Bunter was standing up.
He cried: “It’s gone past, but keep under cover.”
He himself did not. He went to the window.
Florette said: “I’m going to get my book. I thought I’d lose it. I shall always keep it with me now.”
“Wait!” I said, but she was off.
Then Billy Bunter, who was at the window, called out: “Hey, I do believe … Good God! It’s coming back!”
There was silence.
“You, you, you.” It was louder.
Billy was right. The thing had turned and was limping its way back, which meant it was immediately outside the building.
“Get under cover!” shouted Billy, and we darted once more for the tables. Slowly, deliberately, the sound was increasing; the damaged bomb was coming our way.
Nearer, nearer and then … the dreaded silence.
It was like that time in Richard’s flat—the explosion, the crump, crump, and then the rumbling that continued. Something was falling onto the table under which we were crouching. It must have been part of the ceiling. The tables stayed firm, so it could only have been fragments that fell.
Had the building been hit? It was not exceptionally tall but a long and rather sprawling one. I felt dazed. This was the second time this had happened to me within a few weeks. I felt doomed, that fate was pursuing me.
I heard people shouting. There was Billy Bunter, taking charge, as he had always done. Mary Grace was beside me. I saw that Peggy was trembling. Marian looked shaken. But they were all alive … under the table with me. That strong table had saved us from being hurt by those pieces of falling masonry.
The sound of sirens and fire engines filled the air. It was like a nightmare. I am not sure how long it lasted. These were familiar sounds in our war-torn city. So many times we had heard them. This was different. This was us.
It is difficult to remember exactly what happened. I just know that there was tremendous activity. We were numbed, bemused … and amazed to find that we seemed to be unhurt.
Then I heard Peggy crying: “Where’s Florette? She wasn’t with us. She’d gone to get her cuttings book.”
Billy Bunter started to speak. We would leave the building as soon as possible … just in case it collapsed. The bomb had apparently not hit the building but had fallen close beside it. There was considerable damage and it would be better for us to get out. There was nothing we could do but wait for instructions.
“You’ll be looked after, and as soon as possible. There’ll be a bus to take you home. You’ll have to report to the hospital for a checkup, but the main thing is to attend to the injured. You won’t leave the usual way. You’ll have to be shown. Go quietly, please. That’s the best way you can help.”
We stood huddled together. Peggy was very anxious. She kept saying: “Florette. Where’s Florette? Why did she go off? Why didn’t she stay with us?”
“She’ll be there in the cloakroom,” said Mary Grace.
“I hope she got her cuttings book all right,” said Marian.
It seemed a very long time before we were led out of the building. The bus was there and we filed in.
I looked back at the familiar building as we drove away. It was not the same; it would never be. One end was gone completely and there was a jagged gap. I saw a part of a room with filing cabinets standing in it—open to the sky.
There were people everywhere. I saw the ambulances and a stretcher being carried into one of them.
Then we were off. I was glad. I did not want to look any more at the scene of devastation.
It was two days before we heard the news about Florette. The cloakroom was at that end of the building which had suffered most from the blast of the bomb and Florette had died, clutching the book of cuttings in her hand.
The news shocked us all terribly, but Peggy I think was most affected. She looked shriveled and bewildered.
We all met again afterwards. Mary Grace took us to her house. We could not have met in the Café Royal; that would have been too heart-rending. We should have pictured Florette there all the time. It was sad enough in the Dorrington house.
All the gaiety had gone. We were all so unhappy thinking of bright Florette with her dreams of a future which now would never be. We tried to talk normally but it was impossible.
Marian should have been happy because both she and Peggy were being transferred to another branch of the Ministry. It was very near home for Peggy and not so very far for Marian, and they had both dreaded losing their jobs; but there was no happiness for either of them, particularly Peggy.
I told them that I would be going back to my parents for a while and then I would plan what I should do. Mary Grace would not be returning to the Ministry.
It was no use trying not to talk about Florette. It was almost as though she were there with us.
“If only she hadn’t gone back for that book,” said Peggy. “She’d have been with us under the table. Why did she want to go?”
“None of us knew the thing would turn back,” I said. “Oh, why did she?” wailed Peggy. “If only …” Her poor face looked older and more tired than usual, even more wistful than when she was yearning to be someone’s pet. She would not have lost her friend had Florette not gone back for the book.
“That’s life,” said Marian. “It all works on chance.” And we sat there in silence, thinking of Florette, who had had such dreams and had died so cruelly before she could try to make them come true.
A Hint of Scandal
I HAD VISITED THE hospital. No bones had been broken, but a rest was suggested, particularly as I had recently suffered a similar experience.