Flying Angels(62)

She rang the doorbell of the imposing home, and no one answered for a long time. She was afraid they were out, but she could hear children shouting and laughing from open windows on the top floor. The blackout shades were already up. Finally, after a ten-minute wait in the cold, while she wondered what to do, a tall young man in uniform opened the door. Emma guessed instantly that it was Pru’s older brother, Max. He looked like Pru. He was surprised to see her and asked Emma what he could do for her. She had worn her uniform too, with the trousers, coat, and cap, so she’d be warm on the train.

   “May I see Lady Pommery?” Emma asked politely, in her least East End voice. She felt self-conscious being there, and she had noticed immediately that the man in the uniform had the same aristocratic diction as Pru. “I have a package for her,” Emma explained. “From her daughter.” He looked startled at that and opened the door wider.

“Please come in,” he said with a smile. “I’m afraid Lord and Lady Pommery are out. They’re dining with friends. What sort of package is it?” He hadn’t noticed the slim silver-wrapped volume in her hand. She’d added a narrow silver ribbon, to make it look more festive. She hesitated, while standing in the front hall, and then extended it to him.

“I am…I was a friend of Pru’s. We trained together. I’m a nurse. We were in the same unit, and we were roommates. I loved her very much. We all did and we miss her terribly,” she said in a rush, fighting back tears. “I found her journal after I packed up her things. It’s wonderful, and there’s so much in it about everyone she loved…I’m afraid I read it. I thought your mother would like to have it, as sort of a Christmas gift from Pru.”

“Are you staying nearby? Perhaps you’d like to come and see my mother tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll be very grateful to you,” he said graciously, looking Emma over carefully, and she wondered if he had noticed the accent and disapproved.

   “No, I’m not staying nearby,” Emma said, embarrassed. “I took the train up to bring it to her. I thought Pru might like that,” she said, and he narrowed his eyes as he noticed the red hair under her cap. “I’m sorry. I’m Emma Jones,” she said, and held out her hand to shake his.

“The firebrand!” he said with a broad grin. “My sister told me all about you last summer, when she was here after…after our brother died. She adored you,” he said, directing her toward the drawing room. “Can I take your coat? Come in and sit down. You must be freezing after the day on the train.” He was stunned that she had brought it herself, and took the gift-wrapped journal from her, while she took off her coat. He led her into the drawing room, where the fire was blazing, and invited her to sit down. He set the journal down on a table, and she hoped he’d remember to give it to his mother. “Would you like something to eat? You must be starving!” She was, but she was too shy to admit it to him. “She called you a firebrand, you know.” They both laughed at that. “She admired you so much. You were really her closest friend in the end.” They both thought about Pru for a quiet minute, and he smiled at Emma. He had the same warm smile as Pru, that started at his eyes. “I insist that you let me give you something to eat. I have some rather sad-looking sausages, and dreadful potato soup. I was about to eat, myself. I’m afraid rationing has made our menus a bit thin. But my mother made scones today, and I’ve got some of her homemade jam.” He made it so inviting that Emma didn’t want to turn it down, and she was hungry. He invited her into the big old-fashioned kitchen, where he put the meal together himself. He reminded her a lot of Pru: practical, down-to-earth, warm and unassuming, with a look of mischief in his eye.

   They sat down at the kitchen table together, and he told her funny stories about Pru from their childhood, while they shared the meal. The time passed quickly, and she told him about the journal and how much she had loved reading it.

“My mother will love it, and I’ll read it myself. I’m down here for five days, on leave. Christmas and all that, although it’s going to be hard this year. Fortunately, we have the children to distract us. I’m sure Pru told you about them.”

“Yes, she did,” Emma said with a smile, as they heard the front door open and then close hard. A moment later, his mother walked into the kitchen. She was an elegant woman with impeccably groomed white hair, wearing a black velvet dress and a fur coat. She smiled as soon as she saw Emma, and then looked embarrassed.

“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t know you invited a friend,” she said to Max. “Oh my God, you’ve given her that awful soup, and Mr. Jarvis’s nasty sausages.”

“The scones were delicious,” Emma said, feeling like an intruder, but Lady Pommery was so warm and welcoming, and Max had been so kind, that she enjoyed being there, even though she was an uninvited guest.

“This is Emma Jones,” Max introduced her to his mother, “a dear friend of Pru’s. They were roommates at the base and flew together. She took the train all the way up here to bring you something very special. I left it in the drawing room for you. It’s Pru’s journal.” They were both bowled over that Emma had brought it herself, and gone to so much trouble to do it.

   “It didn’t seem right to just send it by post,” Emma explained.