Page 36 of The Little Island Flower Stall
Rory finished a moment later and looked at her. ‘Wow. I don’t even know what to say.’
‘Me neither.’
‘My great-grandmother lived through all this. Your great-aunt too.’
‘And my uncle Roland. And Dolly.’
‘It’s insane. Look at this…’ He pointed to a photo of a young woman. ‘Imagine that. Having your husband dragged away by the soldiers and never seeing him again. All because he had a radio and they were forbidden.’
‘It was no time to be in love, was it?’
‘Not for them, it wasn’t.’
‘It’s so weird to be standing here looking at their photos and reading this like it’s a story. Like they’re both a story. It doesn’t feel like it could possibly be real.’
‘I know. But itisreal. It’s part of our pasts – yours and mine. Not just because we’re alive now with the war behind us, but because we had Violette and your great-aunt and uncle all living here while this was happening.’ Bella watched as his expression became suddenly earnest, intense, so much more alive than it had been at any point that day. ‘To uncover a story just like this…It’s about me, yes, but it’s about this.’ He tapped on the information board. ‘It’s about real, lived history. That’s why it means so much. These stories shouldn’t be forgotten; they shouldn’t be lost to time. They matter.’
Bella stared at him. She couldn’t help it. She’d never seen Sean this passionate about anything. She wasn’t sure she’d seen anyone this passionate about anything. It did something to her, something strange and wonderful. It was infectious. She wanted to feel that passion too. She wanted it to matter to her as much as it did to him. It did, in a different way. To her, it still felt so removed, despite seeing the evidence here in front of her eyes. But Rory seemed to be living the memories of others, right now, as he stood in the tunnels dug by people who’d had no choice, on an enslaved island where nobody had been able to escape. He was full of the real, lived experiences of every one of those people, most nameless and faceless to all but those who’d loved them.
‘I’m sorry…’ He looked away. ‘I get carried away sometimes. It’s stupid?—’
‘It’s not stupid. I thought it was…’ Bella couldn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t know the words she needed to describe what she thought; she only knew how he’d made her feel, and she certainly couldn’t tell him that. She’d never wanted so badly to kiss a man, not even Sean at the height of her infatuation with him.
He cleared his throat and gave her a sheepish smile. It was so adorable it hardly helped. ‘Should we move on?’
‘Yes.’
‘I should have asked: is your great-aunt expecting you back at a certain time? I mean, she wouldn’t worry about you if you were out for a while?’
‘I don’t think so. I could always phone her, but I don’t think it will be too late – the museum closes at five, doesn’t it?’
‘I know, but I wondered if you maybe wanted to get dinner afterwards? I mean, I’d be eating alone so I’d be glad of the company. But if your aunt is expecting you then, of course, I wouldn’t…’
‘I could phone her to let her know I’ll be late. I don’t think she has any particular plans for us to eat together.’
‘I mean, it’s OK, isn’t it? I know you said about your divorce and how you weren’t looking to…It’s not a date. I’m not trying to get to you in that way, not if you don’t want to. It’s just…I really do enjoy your company.’
‘I’d rather not be reminded of my separation, if I’m honest. I don’t want to think about any of that. Dinner as new friends would be lovely. I appreciate you remembering what I said and respecting that.’
‘Why wouldn’t I respect it? You made it clear.’
Bella nodded. ‘Are you…It won’t have any bearing on dinner, but are you…? Do you have?—’
Her question was cut short by him dashing over to the next exhibit and pulling out his notebook.
‘Bella, come and look at this! I read about this woman last night – her story is incredible!’
Bella went to join him at the information board. She began to read by his side, and although the woman’s story was incredible, she had a very different story playing on her mind. What was his story? Who was at home waiting for Rory? He hadn’t mentioned a wife, girlfriend, even an ex, and yet there had to be someone. Did she need to know? Did she even want to? Perhaps it would spoil the fantasy if she did. While her intention was to keep a respectful distance, it didn’t stop her from dreaming of a fling with him. An island romance with a handsome, charismatic and enigmatic man in search of his own hidden past. It was the plot of a book, surely? Maybe she’d write it one day, though she was quite sure she’d be the only person to read it.
The tour ended with a heartwarming display of photographs taken on Liberation Day, the very same day the island was set to celebrate the following week, as it did every year. They emerged from the tunnels into a garden of remembrance where they took a moment to sit in the tranquil surroundings and share their thoughts about what they’d seen.
‘Today’s been brilliant,’ he said. ‘Thanks so much for coming with me.’
‘I’m sure I didn’t do anything.’
‘You say that, but having you here has been so useful. Just hearing someone else’s perspective on everything makes a massive difference. It all makes so much more sense on so many more levels when I have someone else’s thoughts to add to my own.’
‘Hmm. I don’t know what to say about that. I really only tagged along for a day out, but if it’s been useful for you, then I’m glad.’
