Flora's War by Pamela Rushby Page B

the cache. I had no idea of the best action to take – or whether to take any action at all.
    …

    Easter came in early April. Lady Bellamy had been most insistent that every available volunteer should be on duty at the rest and recreation centre. ‘Many of the men will be on leave,’ she said. ‘We need every hand on deck to help take care of them.’
    Gwen and I were rostered on at the centre on Thursday. Lady Bellamy was sure that many soldiers would be in Cairo to attend church the following day, Good Friday. Gwen and I weren’t as convinced about why they’d want to be in Cairo, but we accepted there’d be lots of men in town.
    The centre was busy with soldiers all day. Trooper Alex Hendy and his group of mates were among them. They were in town for a good time, of course, but they weren’t quite as ready to joke and laugh as they had been. They were quieter, more preoccupied.
    ‘Is something wrong?’ I asked Alex when I was able to speak to him alone briefly.
    He looked startled. ‘Why should anything be wrong?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said. I felt Lady Bellamy’s eye on me and to look busy I started to pour Alex a cup of tea. ‘You just seem different.’ I nodded towards his friends. ‘Ted and Stan aren’t fooling about the way they usually do.’
    Alex took the tea and absentmindedly added four spoonfuls of sugar. ‘Yes. Well. I suppose we’re all doing a bit of thinking, so to speak.’ He glanced around and then lowered his voice. ‘There are rumours going about that there’ll be action soon, big action. It makes a fellow think.’
    ‘Action? Where? Not around here, surely?’
    Alex grinned. ‘Oh, the brass don’t tell us that! We could even be shipped to France. But I don’t think so. Why would we be doing all this desert training if we’re going to France?’
    I looked over at Ted and Stan. They were playing table tennis, but the game was slow and languid. Normally, they’d be leaping around the table like crazed kangaroos, and table tennis balls would be flying dangerously. They’d become very skilled at landing them, quite accidentally of course, in cups of tea.
    Before Alex took a sip of his tea, I said, ‘You’d better give me that. You’ve put four sugars in it.’
    ‘Have I?’ Alex looked at his cup, surprised. ‘Well, there you are. My mind’s on other things.’ He hesitated. ‘Speaking of other things …’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Well, if we’re moving out, going into action, I wondered – well, would you write to me? I know you’re busy,’ he added hastily. ‘But if you had a spare moment, just a line or two …’
    I handed him a fresh cup of tea.
    ‘I’ll understand if you don’t have time,’ he said.
    I put my hand on his arm. Bother Lady Bellamy. ‘Of course I’ll write to you, Alex. I’ll be happy to. I can tell you everything that’s happening in Cairo, and you can tell me what’s happening in – well, wherever you are.’
    Before the end of the day, Ted and Stan had both approached me quietly with the same request.
    ‘I don’t suppose you’d write to me, would you? Just now and then.’ Stan said with a forced smile.
    ‘It’s so good to get mail, you see,’ Ted said.
    Other soldiers I’d come to know asked me to write as well. By the end of the day I had a pocketful of slips of paper with names and addresses, and I was feeling rather overwhelmed.
    When I got a chance to talk to Gwen I noticed that her overall pocket was bulging as well. ‘Not you too?’ I said.
    Gwen looked troubled. ‘I don’t know how I’ll manage,’ she said. ‘But what can you say? I know it sounds silly, but they’re all so young , though they must all be older than I am – they’d have to be.’
    ‘Not all of them,’ I said.
    …

    We worked at the busy rest and recreation centre all through Good Friday. Lydia called in towards the end of the day, on the arm of Matthew Grier, her dance partner at my party. Alex, Ted and Stan came in again.
    ‘We were