Flora's War Read Online Free PDF

‘You’re a girl,’ she said. ‘And you’re smoking ,’ she added accusingly.
    The face lit up with a broad smile. ‘Yes, I am, aren’t I?’ the girl said. ‘Isn’t it utterly shocking?’
    ‘You’re Australian, aren’t you?’ I said, noting the sober grey dress. ‘And you’re a nurse?’
    ‘Sssh,’ the girl hissed. ‘Don’t tell the whole world! Why do you think I’m down here in the dark? If I get caught smoking in public I’ll be on the next boat home before I can blink. Look, just stand in front of me, will you, while I finish this?’
    ‘Oh. Oh, of course,’ I said. Gwen and I moved between the girl and the people at the far end of the terrace. She drew deeply on her cigarette and looked up at us again.
    ‘You’re Australian yourself,’ she said to me. ‘But you’re not,’ she said to Gwen. ‘American?’
    ‘Boston,’ confirmed Gwen. She watched, fascinated, as the girl took another puff and blew a cloud of scented smoke. ‘Look, uh, could you – that is –’
    ‘Yes?’ the girl said. ‘What?’
    ‘Could you teach us to do that? Please?’
    The girl threw her head back and laughed. ‘I could,’ she said. ‘But I doubt your parents would be pleased. You are here with your parents, aren’t you? How old are you?’
    ‘We’re sixteen!’ I said indignantly. ‘And we’re very modern girls!’
    The girl laughed again. ‘Oh, well, in that case,’ she said. She glanced down the terrace. No one was watching. No one was near us.
    ‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Quick.’
    We sat down beside her on the settee, our backs to the terrace, and watched her breathlessly. The girl pulled a small silver case from her pocket. Gwen and I looked at each other. She had a real cigarette case of her own!
    The girl held it out to us. Inside was a row of cigarettes encased in pastel-coloured paper: blue, pink, lemon and lavender. A faint scent of dusky rose came from the case.
    ‘From Paris,’ the girl said. ‘They’re French.’
    How sophisticated! Carefully, Gwen and I took one each.
    The girl demonstrated how to hold the cigarette between our fingers and how to put it to our lips. ‘As I light it, draw in,’ she said. ‘Just a little, mind.’
    I was so tentative I was surprised my cigarette caught alight at all. I held it nonchalantly between my fingers as I’d seen the girl do. ‘Um, now what?’ I asked.
    ‘Just draw on it, not too deeply or you’ll choke the first time. Then blow the smoke out.’
    We followed her instructions and managed to avoid choking and coughing. We blew the smoke out delicately.
    ‘There you go!’ the girl said. ‘You’re smoking!’ Then she frowned at us mockingly. ‘But I must warn you it’s not at all a ladylike habit!’
    ‘Thank you, we’ll remember that,’ I said, triumphantly blowing out a small cloud of rose-scented smoke.
    The girl laughed again. ‘I’m Lydia Herschell from Newcastle,’ she said. ‘I’m here with the Australian Army Nursing Service. And you are?’
    We told her our names, and shook hands.
    ‘And what are you doing in Cairo?’
    We explained about our families and the work our fathers did.
    ‘So you’ve been travelling here for years?’ said Lydia. ‘How marvellous! This is the first time I’ve ever been overseas.’
    ‘What do you think of it?’ I asked.
    Lydia made a face. ‘I joined up because I wanted to nurse wounded Australian soldiers. All I’ve come across are cases of malaria, measles and pneumonia. Oh, and a few thrilling cases of tonsillitis.’
    ‘What did you expect?’ Gwen asked.
    ‘When we left Australia we thought we might be going to France and we knew there’d be plenty for us to do there. We were on the ship and halfway here, though, when we were told we were going to Egypt. We weren’t happy, I can tell you. There’s very little for us to do here.’
    ‘What do you do, then, when you aren’t looking after measles and tonsillitis?’ I took another puff on my cigarette. Smoking