Florence

She decided it would mean a conscious effort to try and forget Andrew - it wasn't going to be.

She devoted herself to her work, during the next couple of weeks. She half and half hoped, at the back of her mind, that there would be no message from Dr Stein - she was afraid another blow would send her crashing down.

When eventually Dr Stein called she wished she could hang up and not hear the bad news... But there she was wrong, at least. The test produced conclusive proof that she was related to Joe.

"Congratulations," Dr Stein said. "Can you come over to the surgery? I have a letter from the hospital for you - so you can show your relatives, if you like."

"Oh - that is really good news! Can I come now?" Florence said.

She almost ran all the way there. Dr Stein gave her the envelope, and wished her luck. She carried it home as if it could break any moment.

Once at home, she called aunt Martha. "I have good news," she said.

"Oh Flo, how fantastic! You are a Kingscote alright?"

"I am! Isn't it wonderful? I'll go and call Joe now, ok?"

"He's here, sweetie - I'll get him for you."

Florence heard her aunt move away and shout, "Joe! Joe! Flo on the phone!"

After a little while she heard footsteps approaching the telephone. Joe picked up the receiver and said, "Well?"

"You were right - I am your niece."

"I'm happy you can be certain now, Florence! There was no doubt you could be anything other - but I understand this is of prime importance for you! Congratulations, dear girl! Er, I told the others, and they are all dying to meet you. Is that alright?"

"Oh yes, please! I'd love to meet them. Do they live far apart?"

"Not too far, no. I told them that we could meet at Martha's this weekend - if the tests had come off and it was alright with you. Shall I call them and tell them they're supposed to come?"

"Oh, that would be great. Won't it be too busy for the two of you?"

"Oh, no, no, no it won't. Just leave it to us; we'll see to it, ok! And welcome into the family once more!"

VII Anchored

The party at aunt Martha's had been fantastic. Florence had met all members of her family, and talked extensively with her aunts, uncle Joe, and her cousins. Joe had been right. One of them gave her the uncanny feeling that she was standing in front of a mirror that suddenly got ideas of its own. She had to tell her story quite a couple of times, but her relatives seemed to understand exactly what she was talking about, and didn't ask silly questions.

She'd got a list of addresses and invitations to come and see the members individually, and she left late in the evening, completely satisfied and happy. Here were her relations, here lay her roots, here she felt at home.

She drove back in the happy knowledge that her existence had at last taken a firm root, and she hummed along with the radio on the way. Finally she felt whole. And Andrew - she would try and find him in the summer holidays. Maybe she could get information in the Glasgow city records, if there were any such things... She'd be happy to tell him he'd been right, and that she now had a big family she felt part of - and maybe she'd dare tell him how happy she was when he was there.

She spent her weekends visiting her cousins or having them over. Sandy, the one that resembled her almost completely, visited her. She was a lot like her in other respects, too. The one big difference was in their voices; Sandy's sounded as if she were on whisky and cigarettes all the time.

Florence felt attracted to her ideas and way of talking; she liked her husband, Bob, and they sat talking deep into the night. Sandy remembered her aunt Carrie a little, but she had never felt comfortable or welcome there. The rumours about Florence's parentage and uncle James's death had put an effectual stop to their seeing her. When uncle Joe had called to tell her Florence was her niece after all she'd not believed him at first. He had been adamant, though, and he said that the grown-up Florence looked exactly like her. Well, she did!

Bob sat watching the two women, and smiled. "Yes," he said. "You could pass for identical twins anywhere!"

It gave Florence a warm, wholesome feeling - a sense of truly belonging, of being part - and she beamed at Bob. "That's fantastic, isn't it?" she said.

Bob nodded. "It is. But your voices will give you away at once. I wonder, though, if I could keep you apart if you dressed the same and didn't talk - and I've known Sandy for thirty years. We're school sweethearts. Can I have another drink?"

They went home early the next day, having extracted a promise from Florence to come and visit them in the summer.

Slowly Florence began to get accustomed to the new situation. She became a lot more cheerful, and Joan noticed the change in her. They'd liked each other from the beginning but now it seemed their friendship suddenly blossomed. Florence supposed it was because she felt more at ease with herself; but she wasn't really sure. Not that it mattered...

In early April Joan asked Florence over for dinner, and one evening found Florence sitting in Joan's living room. Joan had made her a cup of tea and put a CD in the player, and then gone to see to dinner in the kitchen. Florence had picked up the Times and sat reading when suddenly the chorus of one of the songs caught her ear. It ran:

Love was a slow slide

Love was a deep glide

Love was a sweet surf frothing on a mean tide

Love was a slow slide

Love was a deep glide

Love was a sweet surf frothing on a mean tide

But Lady Luck lied

And all my joy died

And the smooth waves turned into a rough ride­ -

And the smooth waves turned into a rough ride­...

Andrew! Andrew had been writing something like this, she thought. Her efforts at pushing thoughts of him away must have been none too successful, for all the longing she once had felt for him came back straight away.

She walked to the stereo and picked up the CD box. Track 3 was 'Surf's Up.' The credits duly gave A. Nowell as its writer. She picked up the remote and started the track again. It was a love song, a rather sad one about love lost, but still... She'd asked Andrew about the progress he was making but he'd told her that he couldn't finish it under the circumstances. Apparently he'd been too happy at the time. When the track stopped she played it again.

Joan came in just when she pressed 3. "Nice, isn't it?" she said. "Almost nr 1 now. Really good."

Florence looked at her and blushed. "I know the composer," she said.

"Really? Oh wow, that's great! What is he like?"

Florence blushed. "I think he's fantastic. I er - he came into my life and disappeared again because I was too busy finding myself..."

"What do you mean?"

Florence considered her answer for a moment. Then she shook her head. "I'll tell you briefly," she said. "But I don't want others to know, right?"

She told Joan the outline of all that had occurred over the past few years. Joan listened wide-eyed; now and then she asked an appropriate question. When Florence finished she said, "Goodness. You must be happy to have found those relatives, I suppose."

"Yes, I am. But I wish I'd been less focused on finding myself... I really miss Andrew a lot, and I don't expect he'll want to see me ever again, not after having put me on the track and then not hearing from me again. If I hadn't been so busy finding my roots, I would have tried to find out where he lived - he left a letter for me when he went back home, but someone or other must have thrown it or lost it and the people a t the pub couldn't find it. I just didn't have the time or the rest I needed to try and track him."

"Do you think he liked you?"

"I think so... I hope so. But it's too late now."

"You could trace him through the record company, couldn't you?"

"I don't think I'd dare - I have enough of being rejected..."

"Ye-e-es, I can see that. Still..."

Florence looked at Joan.. She didn't see herself trying to contact Andrew - she was too scared he'd just turn polite and refuse any contact.

She shook her head. "No," she said. "At least I've found my relatives and I was made very welcome by them."

She smiled at the thought. She really felt very happy about it indeed. "It's nice to belong, you know," she said. "I never knew the feeling of belonging before."

Joan tried to let that sink in. "Gosh, yes," she said. "But that must have been really awful..."

The she noticed the time and hurried into the kitchen. She stuck her head round the door for a moment to announce, "Just in time!"

About five minutes later she came back to ask Florence to join her in the kitchen for dinner.

They had roast chicken with baked potatoes and vegetables. Joan had made an effort, and the food was good. They emptied a bottle of wine together during dinner and sat talking happily. Joan told Florence that she'd found someone on Facebook who showed a lot of promise to be her boyfriend. "You know," she said, "I'm beginning to feel the urge to have children, and Fred seems very nice. I've dated him four times now." She blushed and looked radiant.

"Congratulations!" Florence said. "I do hope it will work out!"

They had coffee and biscuits after dinner, and Florence took a taxi home at eleven, happy for her friend but with a faint nagging voice at the back of her thoughts. She could have had a friend, too - and she was certain Fred couldn't ever be as great as Andrew. She made a conscious effort to drive the thought from her mind again.

Every chance to do so got killed off a couple of weeks later, when she came into the pub one Thursday evening, four days before she'd turn forty-nine, after the weekend. She would be away for the next few days, to be schooled in team spirit somewhere in the wild, and it had been a very busy day at work, and she felt like a friendly talk and a drink, and she crossed the green in the happy expectation to find both.

When she entered the pub and looked around to see who were there she stopped dead in her tracks. Andrew! He was sitting in his corner as though he'd never left. He got up as soon as he saw her come in and walked up to greet her. She felt giddy with excitement, and after he'd bought her a drink they sat down and started talking. He asked her about the outcome of the DNA tests, and she told him all about it. He was a good listener, and she felt glad she could tell her story to him.

"Good," he said when she'd finished. "It must be wonderful to feel you've landed in a welcoming nest!"

She nodded. "I heard 'Surf's Up' at Joan's," she said. "So you finished it after all."

"Yes... Life grew lonely enough again to be in the mood. It sells well... Do you like it?"

She nodded. "I'll buy the CD when I have the time," she said. "What did you do with yourself?"

"I'll give you one. I stopped teaching," Andrew said. "I was given a contract by a publishing firm, so I write a lot of songs nowadays; and my uncle died. He left me his money, and his house... I sold the house, and I'm well-off enough not to need the teaching income any longer. It makes for a very different life, not having to be at school on schedule. I'm organised enough not to need it."

"So what brings you over here?" Florence asked.

"It's who, not what. I'll grant you one guess."

"Oh." She blushed. "Oh damn, I'll be away from tomorrow until Sunday... It's my birthday next Monday - my day off. Would you like to come and celebrate?"

"Yes please. What time shall I come?"

"In the morning? My other guests will be there in the afternoon."

Andrew grinned. "Wonderful," he said. "I'll be there."

They sat talking till closing time, Florence a little shyly, but happily.

Andrew walked her home, and it felt to Florence as though he'd never left. When he said goodbye at the door he took her hands.

"Florence," he said, "I do mean it - it's you I've come to see! See you on Monday!" He kissed her on the mouth and turned around.

Blushing deeply Florence went in. Before turning in she packed a small suitcase as she had to leave early the next morning. She felt quite excited at the prospect of having her birthday with Andrew, and she went to bed wondering if he'd want to kiss her more, and if she'd dare... She lay wondering what he'd look like naked, and began to masturbate, imagining it was Andrew who touched her the way she liked best. She brought herself to a nice climax and fell asleep with a big smile on her face.

They were to start out from the firm and she was at the office a little before time. They would go to the conference centre in the company van, which could sit eight people. The only person missing as yet was Mary, the team leader. It seemed a bit strange - she was usually the first to be there.

When they had been waiting for twenty minutes, Joan called her mobile number. The phone was answered by Mary's husband, who was completely confused. But what Joan managed to unearth was that Mary had had a vast heart attack. She'd been taken to hospital, and she was in intensive care.

The members of team looked at each other stunned. Eventually Carl, the only male on the team, said, "You know, I'll go and call the centre and cancel our stay first. Mary has the programme. It doesn't make sense to go without her."

He did as he said, and Joan went to the manager's office and informed him of the situation. He called Mary's husband, and asked if they could do anything, and the team assembled in the canteen for coffee and to talk about Mary. The manager came down after a while. He informed them that Mary would probably be alright, and he dismissed them for the day. "Business as usual next week," he said.

Florence went home a little dazed. Poor Mary! She did hope Mary would get out of this unscathed... It suddenly dawned on her that she would be able to see Andrew. Yay!

She used the afternoon to finish a couple of letters. When it was dinnertime she crossed the green, and almost dashed into the pub all excited and happy to see Andrew again.

He wasn't there. She asked Jem. No, he'd left early that morning. Did he say when he'd be back? He'd just paid his bill and quit, love - sorry, but there it is.

Florence froze. Gone? The bastard! She turned on her heels and walked home slowly, her feelings awhirl. Well - how could he? Why on earth had he come back - to make fun of her, probably. Nice to tell your friends - good for a laugh...

At home the anger she felt became mixed with a deep disappointment, and she sat down at the kitchen table and cried.

She got up late on Saturday. She bought the necessary things for her birthday - a few bottles of wine, a cake, a big quiche, but it gave her no joy. If she'd not invited various people, she'd just as soon skip her birthday completely. Birthdays. Pah!

She spent all weekend being moody and grumpy, and when Monday came along she decided to stay in bed all morning. She'd never felt so utterly miserable before - not even when she read her father had committed suicide. It was bad enough she would have to get up for the afternoon visitors.

At ten the doorbell rang, and she put on a duster and went to see who it was. She opened the door to find Andrew standing there with a bag in his hand, and a bunch of flowers in the other.

She felt the blood drain from her face. "What do you mean, coming here?" she said. "I came to look for you on Friday - the course folded - and you weren't there! I don't want to see you ever again! I don't want to be an object of fun! I -"

Andrew pushed past her into the hall and put his things on a table while Florence kept on telling him he was not wanted.

Then he turned round to face her and took hold of her wrists. He was white with anger.

"Now listen here," he said measuredly. "I think it's time you were told a thing or two, and I'm going to tell you exactly where you get off. Yes, you had an awful time most of your life. Yes, it does rock the ground under you to find out all the things you did. But you aren't the only person in this world to experience that life is hard at times, and I won't allow you to ruin the rest of your life, too - nor mine, for that matter. What the bloody hell do you think a person ought to do? Do you expect me to sit and wait and twiddle my thumbs until you come back? I wasn't there, no. Of course not. The one reason for me to come here again is you. And without you there there's no reason for me to stay. You invited me over here to celebrate your birthday, and I'm damned if that's not what I'm going to do. I want you, but not like this! You behave like a spoilt child, throwing a tantrum like a four-year-old! So pipe down, damn you, and don't let a little disappointment grow into a mountain!"

He looked at her, his eyes blazing. "I've wanted you ever since I heard your voice - and when you sat looking at me with that little smile in church on Christmas Eve I could have picked you up, and rushed you home. You weren't ready then. But now you've got your family and a place in the world, you ought to be. You are too important to waste your life. Pull yourself together!"

Florence felt her legs give way under her as she listened to Andrew. She began to tremble violently, and she felt big tears in her eyes.

Andrew let go of her wrists and took her by the shoulders. He pulled her close to him and kissed her hard on her mouth.

Florence couldn't think straight - but she put her arms around Andrews shoulders and let herself be kissed. It felt good. It seemed right, and exactly what she needed, and she kissed him back. She parted her lips, and she found his tongue, and hung on to him for dear life, enjoying the sensations that washed through her. So he wasn't too angry... and he did want her, too!

"I should have done this a long time ago," Andrew said when he broke their kiss. "You're a great girl - and don't you forget it. Now let's get you dressed so I can give you your present."

Florence nodded, but her legs felt rubbery still. Andrew saw it and took her arm. "I'll come with you," he said. "Come on!"

She smiled at him, a little watery, and let herself be conducted up the stairs. She indicted where her bedroom was, and he opened the door and ushered her in. "Alright," he said. "Go and make yourself presentable! Oh, by the way, if you wonder what to wear, that sweater sits truly beautifully on you!"

It made her beam. So she'd been right - he had noticed, and he liked it. She'd wear it again for him.

"Thank you, Andrew," she said. "I'm so glad you're here..." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him again.

He stroked her cheek. "Good," he said. "I'm not going to let you escape me again, Florence!" and then closed her bedroom door. She heard his footsteps fade down the landing.

She undressed and looked at herself in the mirror. Her breasts were still firm and her belly flat; she'd always taken care to stay in shape. She was very happy about that now. She would do.

She had a quick shower. She went back into the bedroom, and put on some perfume, a little between her breasts and behind her ears, and she carefully applied some make-up. Not too much, just right, she hoped. She looked at her face critically. The traces of her tears were gone, and she looked alright - a little stressed, perhaps, but that would pass, she hoped.

Clothes. Underwear - if they were to make love she wanted to look good for him all the way. She had bought some nice sets lately, and she selected a beautiful black one, with a little embroidery, and diaphanous cups. Then a pair of mauve jeans, a thin, cream top and the sweater Andrew meant. She looked at herself in the mirror contentedly. Yes - this would do very well.

She put up her hair and went downstairs. Andrew wasn't in the living room so she went and looked for him in the kitchen. He'd just finished putting two cups of coffee and two pieces of cake on a tray. Tuttle was rubbing herself against his shins, purring loudly, and he bent down to stroke her.