Rebirth

'Florence!' a voice called.
​'Huh?' I jolted in surprise and plastered a fake, broad smile on my face as my heart pounded with such ferocity that I had to take a deep gasp of air to compensate.
​'You should know how much I hate a lady using words like that! It's so inelegant and unfeminine. Your papa and I brought you up far better than that, and of course that wonderful finishing school you attended. It's just so common and you, my dear are certainly not that!' My Mother chastised me tapping her fan off my hand in time with each word.
I would've rolled my eyes if I hadn't been sitting in the garden veranda with my Mother and her fellow socialite friends. They were the very top of high society and most were members of Mothers' bridge group as well, and the other half would sell their daughters to belong to that elite yet small group.
I stood slowly and smiled at the group of women, forcing myself to be as polite and happy as I could.  'Please excuse me ladies, I need to use the powder room.' I turned and slowly walked past the maids, trying to stop my legs shaking uncontrollably and back into the house when my Mama's voice stopped me in my tracks.
​'Florence hasn't been the same since she came back home. I believe we should continue with our little arrangement,' my mother spoke while her friends giggled.
My mother could sanction murder and her ladies would swallow every spoonful they were fed.
​'You're right of course, my dear.'
I recognised the voice as belonging to my grandmother, the Duchess, Lady Cecily.
Without being scrutinised under their prying looks anymore, I finally took the opportunity to sigh and roll my eyes.
​'What are those vultures planning next?' I muttered as I walked into the house to retrieve my book and curl up on the window seat in the parlour.
​'I'm home!' my father called.
I glanced up at the clock and leapt up to greet him. I couldn't believe how long I'd spent reading!
​'Hello, Papa!' I beamed at him. 'Can I get you anything?'
He leaned towards me and lightly planted a kiss on my cheek.
​'Hello, Florence, dear, you look lovely today, is that dress new?'
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he winked at me.
​'Really, Papa, now you're just being silly. It's old but I embroidered some flowers on it. We don't have enough rationing coupons for new clothes.'
​'You did a most fantastic job! Where's your Mama?' he asked, linking his arm through mine.
​'Mama and her ladies are in the garden, I came in to read my book.'
​'Oh your Mama and her flock of birds.'
​'Grandmama is here too.'
​'Really? The Duchess herself, to what do we owe the honour?'
​'I don't know, Papa.'
My Father's butler, a chap called Edgar hovered nearby ready to assist.
​'Ah hello, Edgar. Could you get my slippers and pipe for me? Oh and a pot of a tea and the newspaper. I'll take them in my office.'
​'Of course, sir.'
Edgar turned and walked off.
​'I'll see you at dinner later on then, Florrie?'
Papa lifted my hand and lightly kissed it.
​'Yes, I'll see you at dinner.'
I smiled.
​'Oh, my dear daughter, I meant to ask, what are you reading?'
​'Mansfield Park by Jane Austen, Papa.' I lied, while smiling broadly at him.
​'I'm so very glad your Auntie Alice gave those collections of books to you.'
I said nothing but smiled; he leaned towards me, touched my elbow lightly and started to walk away.
​'Oh Florrie, Your Mama said to dress appropriately for dinner tonight; apparently we're receiving guests.'
He winked at me again, his eyes lit up jokingly. My Father and I had always been very close but recently we'd started to drift apart. I think he still thought of me as his little Princess but in my head, I felt like I had crawled my way through hell and back.
I lowered my head in polite acceptance as I turned into the parlour and retrieved my book from where I'd hidden it. I held the solid paper mass in my fingers, and rotated it slowly, my hands were still red raw from all the carbolic soap I'd come into contact with, in situations outside the family, my Mama insisted I wear elbow high gloves to cover my 'unsightly' hands. I stared at the cover of the book; it was a nursing pamphlet that had been mass produced by the Red Cross for the Civil Nursing Reserve.
​'Miss Florence?'
I stuffed the book at the back of the bookcase and stood up.
​'Yes! I'm in the parlour,' I called back.
​'Mistress said it was time to draw you a bath and help you get ready for dinner tonight.'
My maid, Nellie, appeared in the parlour.
​'Alright then, thank you Nellie.'
As we climbed the stairs together, Nellie, who was walking a respectable few steps behind me, started chattering.
​'It's so good to have you home again, Miss Florence, the staff, including myself were all so worried about you, Mrs Browne was lighting candles in every window for you, until the air raid warden gave her a right ticking off. She was so embarrassed!'
I felt so deflated, a few years ago I would've been impressed with that story and teased Mrs Browne at every possible opportunity but now, I simply felt nothing.
            'Thank you, Nellie.' I attempted a smile. 'I can do the rest by myself.'
I closed the door shut before she had chance to protest, I wanted to be by myself, I could fend for myself, I'd demonstrated that, if nothing else, over the past six years.
            Wrapped up in the warm, scratchy and starchy towels after my bath, I headed for my bedroom and closed the door behind me. My wardrobe doors were open; I smiled, Nellie must have laid out something for me to wear. I dried my skin slowly and applied the moisturiser that Mother had got for me to try and fix my hands.
I slowly padded over to the open wardrobe door; and smiled to myself having that bath had almost altered my outlook completely. Maybe I could wear that teal suit that had been Mamas', or that dress that Grandmama gifted me.
My brain was whirring away thinking of potential outfit ideas, shoes, handbags and accessories when my eyes finally focused on what was in the wardrobe in front of me.
I heard a soul shattering scream and stepped away from the closet while my heart hammered with such force it threatened to leap out of my throat. It was then that I realised the scream was emitting from me. 
            'Florence!'
My father shouted as he ran over to grab me forcefully by the arms.
I lifted my arm and pointed at the offending item in my wardrobe. My brown nurses uniform complete with barely visible blood stains, you could barely see them but I remembered exactly where they were, the same as I vividly remembered the men whose blood had left those stains. 
I sank to the floor with my hands in my eyes as the memories started again.
John, Jack, Eric, Tom, Bill. 
I breathed out slowly and shakily as I attempted to recompose myself.
John, Jack, Eric, Tom, Bill. 
            'Get rid of that!' My father screamed at the maids who had gathered at my bedroom door, no doubt summoned by my scream.
            'Come on, Florence, get up. Our guests are downstairs already and no doubt, they've heard your little display.'
Sniffling I stood up slowly and shakily, my eyes downcast as my face burned with shame.
​'Yes, Papa.'
​'Nellie, come and help Miss Florence get dressed and we'll see you in the parlour room in fifteen minutes.'
​'Yes, Mr Edward-Jennings,' said Nellie, bobbing a tiny courtesy.
Nellie stuffed me into my prettiest Elizabeth Arden dress and manhandled my hair into a presentable style.