A NIGHTINGALE SANG IN BERKELEY SQUARE

There really was nothing more exciting than meeting a man in town in the midst of war. Everything felt more alive. The food tasted better, the music sweeter and the company you kept more precious.

And to top it all she had Percy, the nicest cabbie in London, sent to bring her safely to her love. "What you having tonight then, Rose?" he would ask, always seeming genuinely fascinated to hear the finer details of the food and drinks menus at the Ritz, Savoy and the Dorchester which she would happily describe to him in all of their minutiae.

"My favourite lately has been this one called a Pall Mall cocktail which is part Italian and French Vermouth combined with Plymouth Gin."

"I know it. That's the one with the orange bitters and teaspoon of White Crème de Menthe?"

Rose was quite taken aback by Percy's extensive cocktail knowledge.

"Bloody hell, Perce. How do you know that?"

"I used to work behind the bar at the Savoy when I was younger."

Smiling at the casual way the cabbie would reveal yet another part of his endlessly mysterious life, almost nothing surprised Rose about him anymore.

"Along with all the other many things you've done like being a flower seller and being a Royal horse shoer. Is there anything you didn't do back then?"

Dismissing it all with a wave of his hand, he deflected back to Rose and her love of cocktails.

"Anyway, you want to be careful, Rose. You going to end up more soaked in alcohol than a Christmas pudding."

"Don't worry, Perce. I'm always careful. Besides, you'll always see me right if I'm all over the shop."

It was true. He had always made sure he'd see her safe home everytime she went to meet her gentleman friend for drinks.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

And with that she winked at the driver as he opened the door for her to get out of the car.

"I can only imagine that means pretty much anything goes."

She patted his cheek in jest as she headed off toward the Ritz.

"Well, how'd it go?"

The cabbie pushed up his cap to hear his passenger's summary of her evening out.

"Can't complain, Perce."

"You can if you want?"

Bursting into tears suddenly, Rose betrayed her initial pretence.

The cabbie, saying nothing quickly turned the engine over and drove away from the Ritz a few kilometres to Berkeley Square where he parked up by an unlit lamppost.

Turning off his own head lamps, the cabbie gave Rose a moment or two to compose herself.

"Take your time and we'll get you home when you're good and ready."

As tears streamed down her face, Percy handed her a spare hankerchief from his glove compartment to dab them dry.

"You're going to start me off if you keep on like this."

Laughing at his statement, Rose found herself feeling a little brighter.

"You're like a priest, knight errant and driver all in one you are."

"That's me."

Lighting up two cigarettes from the end of one match, he passed one to Rose and kept one for himself.

"Nice moon tonight."

"Yes," Rose agreed.

He waited for her to tell him what was really on her mind, sensing it was imminent.

"Alright. I'll tell you. He asked me to marry him."

"That's good news surely?"

Still dabbing at the warm tears on her face, she replied."It's amazing. But there's a catch. He's off on a bombing mission tomorrow night."

Blowing a smoke ring out of the driver's window into the street, Percy gave himself some time to consider the full implications of her situation.

"I'll tell you a story, Rose. Goes like this. One time I came here to this very spot to meet a young lady. Turned out that lady was to become my wife. We made a vow to each other that night in this square to never let anything come between us. Long story short. She died. Now I'm still here. Whenever I can I come back to think of her on that night we met. Similar moon it was, too."

"How did she die?"

"Typhoid. Visiting her sister in Croydon during the outbreak of 37."

Humbled by his honesty, Rose put her hand on the driver's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry."

"Yes me too. But what I'm trying to say without sounding too high minded is sometimes the eternal things are those fleeting moments before they're snatched away from us. She never died for me really. She'll always be in my heart. My advice for you? Maybe don't worry too much about tomorrow and enjoy what you got today. Simple stuff really but easy to forget."

Taking in his advice, the two of them sat in silence for a minute or two before Percy changed tack a bit.

"Ere. You heard that song about the Nightingale in Berkeley Square?"

"Yes. I like that song."

"It could have been written about me and the wife back then. Uncanny it is. I would save up all me coffers to take her out to the Ritz after working all week at the Savoy."

And as he started up singing the song in his somewhat tuneless, but characterful voice, Rose joined him in singing with her far more melodic tones.

And as if by magic, the street lamp flickered back on as if it, too, wanted to join in a chorus.

In that brief moment, Rose understood what Percy meant about the eternal things.