Page 53 of The Little Island Flower Stall
‘This had better be quick,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to find someone named Pippa right now, on pain of death.’
‘God, I wouldn’t want that on my conscience. I just wanted to say good luck.’
‘You’re staying to watch the whole thing?’
‘Of course I am! I wouldn’t miss this! You’re still on for grabbing a drink afterwards?’
Bella nodded. ‘Sounds good. I don’t know what time I’ll be done, though. I think there’s stuff after the parade – music and fireworks and whatever. I suppose we could stay for those? I’m sure there will be drinking somewhere in amongst it. We’d have to stay with Celestine. Is that all right with you? I know we said at the pub…’
‘Sure, it’s no problem. I’ll find you later then.’
‘OK.’
‘By the way,’ he added as she began to hurry away. ‘You look incredible.’
Bella grinned. She was still grinning ten minutes later as she finally located Pippa. She was a surprisingly tall and slender woman with a mop of grey curls.
‘Oh!’ Pippa gave Bella a once-over and then looked faintly confused. ‘I wasn’t expecting…’
‘I’m Bella. Bernard told me to come and find you.’
‘Bernard?’ Pippa let out a sigh. ‘Don’t tell me…he wants me to find you a space on the convoy. Honestly, I wish that man would let me know when he drafts new people in; I’ve barelyany space as it is, and he knows full well I couldn’t make the rehearsal so I wouldn’t?—’
‘I don’t have to…’ Bella suddenly felt awkward and a bit stupid for standing there in her uniform and period make-up. ‘If you don’t have room…’
‘No, no…we’ll find a spot for you. What’s your name?’
‘Bella,’ she repeated.
‘Bella… Celestine’s niece?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah!’ At this Pippa looked less annoyed. She even gave a brief smile. ‘Welcome aboard!’ She looked over at the line of military vehicles parked up, pockets of volunteers milling around them in various 1940s outfits. ‘I think there’s a spare seat in the jeep with Diane…’ She pointed to a car where a tall blue-haired woman was cleaning the wing mirrors. ‘Pop over and tell her I sent you.’
‘Right…’
Bella did as she was asked. Diane gave her a broad smile as she repeated Pippa’s instructions and explained who she was.
‘Plenty of room for a small one,’ she said. ‘And you’re like a little Thumbelina, aren’t you? I’m sure we’d fit two of you in. Celestine’s niece, you say?’
Bella nodded.
‘I had heard she’d got someone in to help run the stall. How’s she doing?’
‘She’s getting on well. I think she’ll be off her crutches soon.’
‘Great stuff. Hop up; I think we’re getting ready to start.’
At first, Bella couldn’t help but feel a bit of a fraud. Here she was, cheering crowds lining the road at either side, people smiling and saluting as she waved from the jeep, and yet she’d done nothing to deserve their attention. She hadn’t lived through the occupation – she hadn’t even been born on the island. Sheshouted as much to Diane over the sound of the engine, who only grinned and told her nobody cared about that. She was from a Jersey family and that was good enough. After all, she reminded her, the history of Bella’s family might have been very different if not for their liberation, and so she had as much right to celebrate as anyone else once that was taken into consideration.
On an open-top Char-A-Banc bus a few vehicles ahead sat the older residents of St Rosa, the few left who’d lived through the war, including Celestine and Dolly. Bella couldn’t see any of them, and she tried to imagine how her aunt might look. There was no doubt Dolly would be enjoying herself – she seemed the sort of woman to make a party out of anything – but given what Bella knew of Celestine and her complicated feelings about those years, how would she be? Would she be sombre, reflective, even a little sad? Or would she make an effort to be positive? It had been hard to read her that morning. She’d seemed cheerful enough, but Bella was beginning to see that Celestine was good at putting a brave face on things that made her less than happy. Bella got the impression she was glad to be a part of the parade, and that every extra year she was still around to do it felt like a gift, but that seemed obvious in a way. Of course she’d be thankful that the island was liberated all those years ago and that she’d lived through the occupation, but she’d lost so many people, either directly or as a later consequence of the war, that it must have been hard to hold on to that gratitude sometimes.
As the morning wore on, Bella lost herself in the atmosphere and forgot she was meant to be feeling awkward about it all. She found herself laughing at Diane’s quips from the driver’s seat, or else grinning like mad at the cheering crowd, a sea of phone cameras above their heads. She could almost picture what this exact route must have looked like on that first Liberation Day, the smiles and laughter of sheer relief and the tears for thosewho’d been lost, and the weight of emotion threatened to reduce her to a confused wreck too.
The strains of rousing victory music followed them down the route, distorted and almost loud enough to drown out their engines. There was a sudden coo of delight from the crowds as the sound of planes came from the direction of the sea and a formation of ancient warplanes roared over them.
‘There’s the old Spitfire,’ Diane said. ‘We have that one every year. Owned by someone in St Helier. Must cost him a fortune to keep it flying.’
