Hello lovelies!
I am soooooo sorry this took so long for me to update!
I've been busy with work and an internship, but anyway, here is another splendid chapter for you to enjoy!
And please review if you wish, I love hearing your thoughts!
December 1924
He'd tried to focus on his work all morning, but he could not. His mind was racing with anxiety.
He stared up at the office ceiling and felt his heart pound along with the clock as it chimed eleven.
Florian Dupont was dead. He'd been dead for five years.
Roger remembered receiving the news in a letter from Doris, shortly after the war ended.
I was having tea with Miss. Mardle yesterday when a letter arrived from Belgium. She was so distraught after reading it. I felt so sorry for her but I did not know what I could do to help her, so I just left. I asked Miss. Towler about it today when I visited the store and she said it was about the violinist who used to live with them. He passed away in a military hospital just hours after the treaty was signed. It really is tragic, but Miss. Mardle took it extremely badly. Her reaction was so emotional that I cannot help but wonder - I know you say I must not gossip about good friends, but I think she may have loved him a little.
Roger glanced at the picture of Josie that stood in a small golden frame on his desk. She smiled faintly and her eyes shown beautifully even in the foggy black-and-white.
I think she may have loved him a little...
Roger shook his head, trying to force the words out of his mind. But it was impossible.
He knew better than anyone how much Josie truly loved Florian. He'd seen firsthand how their relationship grew from unspoken infatuation to devoted adoration and love. In fact, Roger realized, his own role in the drama may very easily have played catalyst to the romance.
Whatever the case may be, Florian and Josie loved each other and would have lived happily ever after if the young man had not died.
And Florian hadn't died. He was alive and in London that very moment.
A knock came at his office door and Roger straightened in his chair.
"Come," he said as he grabbed the nearest staff report and tried to appear busy.
The door opened and, much to his surprised, Miss. Plunkett poked her head in.
"Excuse me, Mr. Grove," she gave a polite smile, "But there's a gentleman to see you. Well, that is to say, he's here to see 'the important looking red-haired man'," she chuckled but quickly resumed her professionalism, "I told him you were busy, but he's insisting."
"Yes, thank you, Miss. Plunkett, let him in," he said with a nod, only to stand to his feet and freeze in confused terror when the gentleman entered.
It was the man who'd been with Florian on the shop floor the previous afternoon.
Miss. Plunkett glanced between the two men before hurrying from the room and shutting the door.
"What are you doing here?" Roger asked abruptly.
"I feel you are owed an explanation," the man said, stepping forward, "You seemed very shocked yesterday."
Roger scoffed, "That is an understatement."
The man remained strong even as Roger glared at him.
"Please, sir, my name is Antoine Renard," he stated in practically perfect English, "I am a friend of Florian Dupont."
"Yes, well," Roger sighed and shook his head, aghast, "You'd better explain what's going on because right now I have half a mind to call security."
Antoine held his hands up defensively, "Sir, I know what you must be feeling - "
"No, you really don't," he stated coldly but then took a breath, "Forgive me, please continue."
Antoine slowly took a seat in front of Roger and began his tale.
"Florian and I grew up together as children. We were like brothers. But we parted ways when he moved to join an orchestra in the city. I never heard from him again. When our home was destroyed, I joined the Belgian army as quickly as I could. I believed Florian had been killed in the attack, but we were reunited when he was placed in my unit in the summer of 1917. We fought beside each other for a year. Then, one day in November of 1918, our unit was targeted and Florian saved me from enemy fire. He nearly lost his life. He was unconscious for days before the war finally ended."
Roger interrupted harshly, "If Florian was only unconscious, why did the army write a letter saying he was dead?"
Antoine hung his head as he continued, "After he awoke, Florian could not remember anything from the war. It was as if those four years of his life had vanished from his memory. He did not remember joining the army, or fighting, or anything."
Roger slowly sat down, "And Josie?" he caught a sort of question in Antoine's eyes and shook his head, "Sorry, I'm sure you have no idea who I am talking about."
Antoine smiled, "I know about Josie. Florian spoke of her often. At first he did not say they were lovers, but I found out soon enough. I know Florian too well," his smiled faded, "But no...he did not...does not remember her."
Roger leaned forward in his chair, "But you still haven't answered my question: why did the army send Josie that letter?"
Antoine turned his head to avoid Roger's eye, "The army did not send the letter," he took a deep breath, " I did. Florian needed to recover in Belgium, so I had to make Josie believe he had died," Antoine shrugged ashamedly, "I explained the Belgian army did not have her address on file and would not know to send her an official telegram, which is truly what would have happened. I sent her his identification tag...and..." he paused as his voice choked with regret, "And a certificate of death...and some of the letters she'd sent him. I wanted to make it more real."
"But why?" Roger asked, growing furious, "I have been Josie's friend all these years and I know what she's had to endure. She grieved for him nearly ten months before she could bring herself to step out in public!" He stood and pointed a heartless finger at Antoine, "Her suffering is all down to you!"
"Can you imagine what it would have been like?" Antoine turned to look up at him, impassioned by Roger's harsh words, "If Florian had returned to England, to Josie, he would not have remembered loving her. She would have been a stranger to him," Antoine shook his head, "Look at me and tell me that would have been any easier for her."
Roger exhaled slowly and clenched his jaw. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew Antoine was right.
"How did he figure out about her after all this time? How much does he know?" Roger asked calmly.
Antoine shrugged, "He always knew he had stayed here for a time. That is the last memory he has: walking up to a brick house in London."
Roger closed his eyes briefly, "Josie's house..." he muttered.
Antoine nodded, "But he does not remember her as his lover. He only has a letter, from when he first came here as a refugee. He carries it with him everywhere. It was from a charity, giving her name and address," he looked down at his lap, "That was why he wanted to come to England, to find her and learn about his past. He first admitted his plan to me when we arrived here in the shop yesterday," he looked at Roger, "You have to believe me, if I could have stopped his coming here, I would have."
"I do believe you, Mr. Renard," Roger assured him, "I see now that your actions in this ordeal were well-intentioned," he gazed sharply at Antoine, "I only hope you understand how detrimental his presence is. If they were to meet again, after all these years, it would ruin Josie's present happiness."
Antoine lifted a brow, "And yours, I assume."
Roger blinked in surprise but then cleared his throat as he walked to the office door, "Yes, I suppose you might as well know...she and I are engaged."
"Ah...I see," Antoine grinned and stood to his feet, extending his hand in congratulation, but Roger took a tight hold of his arm.
"Please..." Roger begged, "They cannot meet. Do you understand me? They must never meet. "
Antoine nodded vigorously, "I have arranged for us to leave the country tomorrow evening. You will never see us again."
Roger's heart skipped a beat in panic, "And where is Mr. Dupont now?"
"Do not worry," Antoine said and pulled his arm away, "He is at our hotel. I made him promise to stay in our rooms," he smiled when he saw the look of worry in Roger's eye, "Do not be anxious," Antoine told him as he walked out the door and began down the corridor, "If there is one thing I know about my friend, he never breaks a promise."
Roger watched him leave, confident in their plan. But when he returned to his desk and saw Josie smiling at him from the little gold frame, a crippling guilt ate away at his heart.
Oh dear, Roger, what have you done?
Hahaha, I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapters will be up soon.
Please review! :)