I'll Be Seeing You Read Online Free PDF

ground floor while I lived upstairs with my studio in the attic above, and we both looked after the small front and back gardens. It was a very successful arrangement.
    I had promised to telephone Aunt Primrose about the funeral. She was the last remaining of five sisters, all named after flowers: Violet, Lily, Iris, Primrose and the youngest, Marguerite, my mother, who had been called Daisy all her life. Reggie, Primrose’s husband, was almost stone deaf and she bellowed down the phone at me from sheer habit.
    â€˜I’ll be there, of course. Reggie’s not up to it, I’m afraid, so I’ll leave him behind.’
    I could see her standing four-square to the draughts in the dilapidated drawing room of their ancient house in Wales, Uncle Reggie slumped in an armchair by the fire, the smelly old spaniels – four of them – flopped insensible on the hearthrug at his slippers.
    I said, ‘I’m starting to try and clear out things here a bit. Is there anything of Ma’s you’d like to have?’
    â€˜Sweet of you to ask, dear. Nothing I can think of at the moment. We’ve got far too much here, as it is. But if you happen to come across any old family photos, I’d love to see them. From before the Flood, when she and I were young. Don’t throw them out.’
    I promised not to. ‘If I find any, I’ll keep them safe for you. By the way, did Ma ever talk to you about what she got up to in the WAAF during the war?’
    â€˜Well, she always told me she had a jolly good time. We all did, you know. Lily and Vi in the WRNS, Iris a Land Girl and me a FANY driving ambulances all over the place. We’d none of us have missed it for the world. Not the done thing to say so these days, I know, but who cares?’
    â€˜Did she ever talk about having a love affair?’
    There was a chuckle and the faint clink of ice against glass – an early evening pick-me-up to hand.
    â€˜We
all
had those. Especially Iris. All those haystacks, and the Italian POWs working on the farms. She was very keen on
them
.’
    â€˜But was there somebody special with Ma? Someone she told you about?’
    â€˜Well, I seem to remember that there was an American . . . she was mad about him, but I think he was killed in action. She never mentioned him after the war, and, of course, it would have been before she married your father. Dear Vernon, he was always there, you know – waiting hopefully in the wings. Always dotty about Daisy, ever since we were children. Very sweet.’
    â€˜Did you ever meet the American?’
    â€˜Oh, no. Daisy and I hardly saw each other during the war. Too busy doing our own thing. Our leaves hardly ever coincided, and you couldn’t get around like now. Journeys took for ever. But we wrote to each other and she mentioned him in her letters.’
    â€˜Do you still have any of them, by any chance?’
    â€˜Lord knows . . . I doubt it, but I’ll have a search, if you’re interested. I can’t promise anything, though.’
    â€˜Did she happen to tell you his name?’
    Another soft clink. ‘Can’t remember, I’m afraid. It’s too long ago.’
    â€˜Where she was stationed?’
    â€˜Somewhere in Suffolk. A bomber station. I’ve forgotten what it was called. Some funny country name like Little Hogwash or Nether Snoring.’ Another clink and a gulp. ‘Why all these questions, dear?’
    â€˜Nothing really. I found an old photo in her desk – of an American bomber crew. I was just curious.’
    â€˜Well, the Yanks came over here in force after Pearl Harbor. Thousands of ’em. And jolly good fun they were, too. One of them taught me to jitterbug.’ Another rich chuckle. ‘But that was a long, long time ago. Couldn’t do it now, not with my knees.’
    I smiled. It was hard to imagine Aunt Primrose ever jitterbugging but I didn’t doubt that it