“I’m glad you felt you could confide in me. I never dreamed we’d meet, much less be able to talk like this. You’ve made me very happy.”
Jo felt a momentary urge to hug Sylvia but fought it down. She’d become dangerously emotional since discovering this new family, and she didn’t like it, not one bit.
Chapter 20
September 1955
London, England
Helen felt a flutter of nervousness in the pit of her stomach as she prepared Sunday lunch. She’d splurged on mutton chops and was going to serve them with mashed potatoes and peas and carrots. She’d even made a plum duff for pudding. Several bottles of beer were cooling in the ice box, and there was cider for Edith.
Helen untied her apron and went into the parlor to check on her mother. She’d caught a summer chill while Helen was in Bournemouth and had taken to her bed. It had taken her nearly a fortnight to recover. Had it not been for Agnes’s kindness, Helen might have had to take a sabbatical from work to care for her. Agnes stopped in every day at noon to heat up the lunch Helen had prepared in advance, help Edith to the bathroom, and update her on the latest news. After work, Helen cooked supper and took it up to her mother, who pushed the food around on her plate and complained that it was either too cold, too hot, too bland, or too peppery. Most of her dinner wound up being next day’s lunch. Helen then helped Edith bathe, and back into bed. The two of them listened to the wireless, which Helen had brought up from the parlor, until Edith began to nod off sometime around nine. Edith still complained of achiness and fatigue and spent most of her days sitting by the window, but she felt sufficiently recovered to finally meet David.
“All right, Mum?” Helen asked as she poked her head into the parlor. “Do you need anything? I’ll just go meet David from the bus.”
Edith shrugged, her expression disdainful. Helen could easily guess what she was thinking. Why did a grown man need to be met off the bus like a child? He didn’t, but Helen hadn’t seen him for more than an hour or two since they’d returned from Bournemouth and wanted to spend a few minutes alone with him, not something she’d be able to do with Edith in the house. She missed him and wished they could find a way to be together for even a few hours, but neither of them earned enough money to start spending their wages on hotel rooms. Now that Edith was on the road to recovery, they’d find a way to pick up where they’d left off.
Helen’s heart skipped a beat when David alighted from the bus. He smiled broadly when he saw her and reached for her hand, since to kiss or embrace her in public wouldn’t be proper, more so because the stop was so near her house and someone who knew her might see. Helen was pleased to notice that David had taken extra care. He was wearing a new shirt, and a tie she hadn’t seen before, and his suit looked freshly pressed. His hat had been brushed, and he was cleanly shaven and smelled of cologne.
“I’m so happy to see you,” he said. “I was beginning to despair.” They hadn’t seen each other since Tuesday, when David had taken two busses just to spend her dinner break with her and get back to his own post before his allotted time had elapsed.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t get away,” Helen explained once again. Thankfully, David’s landlady, Mrs. Bush, had a telephone, so Helen was able to ring from a call box by the hospital and leave a message for him, or sneak out in the evening and ring just to hear his voice. The landlady stood next to David the whole time he was engaged in conversation, partly out of curiosity, and partly because she didn’t want him tying up the line in case Prince Phillip, of whom she was inordinately fond, according to David, came to his senses and called to tell her that he was leaving Her Majesty the Queen for one Gladys Bush of Clerkenwell. She also charged David for the use of the phone, even when Helen rang just to leave a message.
“Have you told her yet?” David asked, his gaze anxious.
Helen shook her head. “I couldn’t bring myself to spring it on her when she was so ill. I thought we’d tell her together.”
David let out the breath he’d been holding. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”
“As if I would,” Helen exclaimed, arching her eyebrow. “I could barely keep the news to myself.”
David had asked her to marry him on their last morning in Bournemouth. They’d been walking on the beach, their feet chilled by the rolling surf. The beach had still been empty at that time of the morning, the seagulls the only witnesses to what had been the happiest moment of Helen’s life. She’d sensed a change in David that morning, a reticence that she’d attributed to a change of heart. When he’d suggested they take a walk on the beach before breakfast, she’d braced herself for the worst, steeling herself to the disappointment that seemed to stalk her every relationship. David had been silent and pensive, but his hand was warm on hers and he walked as close to her as decency would allow. Helen had been quiet as well, affected by his solemn mood.
When he stopped walking, the sun was behind him, adorning his head with a halo and making his expression difficult to read, but she instinctively knew that whatever he was about to say would change everything. “Helen, I know it’s awfully fast, and I have no right to ask anything of you, since I don’t have much to offer in the way of worldly goods, but I must tell you how I feel, and I place myself at your mercy in the hope that you might welcome what I have to say.”
Helen arranged her face into a mask of calm and lifted her gaze to meet his. She had yet to comprehend the full import of the moment, or grasp the roundabout meaning of David’s words, but her heart beat wildly against her ribs, and her breath came in shallow gasps as David took his time getting to the point.
“I don’t think I’m being presumptuous in saying that there was a connection between us from the moment we met. It’s as if we’ve known each other for years, not mere months. I want to be with you always. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. What do you say?” he said, smiling into her eyes. He looked at her expectantly, his smile wavering when she didn’t immediately reply.
“David, you haven’t actually asked me,” Helen reminded him gently.
David smiled sheepishly and sank down on one knee, wetting the leg of his linen trousers. “Helen Brent, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked breathlessly, his gaze fixed on her face. “I love you,” he added.
“Yes,” Helen whispered. “Oh yes.”
David stood, grabbed her around the waist, and swung her around, to the amazement of the seagulls, who scattered with squawks of displeasure. “I am so happy,” he said simply, echoing her own thoughts. “I’d forgotten what it’s like to feel this happy.”
They’d spent the remainder of the day walking on air, their eyes finding each other as their fingers intertwined, words inadequate in the face of their newfound joy. It was too soon to make any plans or share their news; Helen had yet to tell her mother and that was a hurdle she wasn’t looking forward to, but once they secured Edith’s blessing, they’d set a date and go about figuring out the myriad details that their newly married status would entail. But that day, they allowed themselves just to be, and not think of anything that might put a damper on their soaring spirits.
Helen released David’s hand as they approached the house. It was still fully light outside, but the glaring sun of the afternoon had given way to a soft glow that made the street and the modest little house seem almost magical. Edith was watching for them, her nose almost touching the windowpane, and Helen gave her a happy wave before unlocking the door. She led David, who was holding his hat in both hands like an errant pupil, into the parlor.
“Mum, I’d like you to meet David Edevane,” she announced.
Edith stared at David, her eyes and partially open mouth nothing more than three black holes in a face shadowed by the dimly lit parlor. The window was behind her, the afternoon sunlight illuminating David’s tense face. He gripped his hat harder, his fingers whitening at the knuckles.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” David said
, bowing his head respectfully.
“Yes,” Edith replied. Helen wasn’t sure what she was saying yes to, but it didn’t seem as if she were about to elaborate.
“I was glad to hear you’re feeling better,” David tried again.
“I suppose I’d better, since Helen obviously has more pressing things to do than look after me,” Edith replied rudely.
“Mum, why don’t you come to the table? Dinner is almost ready,” Helen suggested, desperate to fill the awkward silence that had fallen in the wake of Edith barb.
“Something smells wonderful,” David said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Perhaps you can escort my mother into the dining room.”
David offered Edith his arm. She took it, but Helen saw the fleeting look of panic on her haggard face. Her reluctance wasn’t lost on David, who looked to Helen for help. Helen gave him a watery smile. She hadn’t expected Edith to love David on sight, but she hadn’t expected such obvious hostility either. Edith was a woman who enjoyed being liked, and was usually gracious and charming, at least until their guests left. It was only later, once she’d had time to consider her opinion, that she let Helen know exactly what she thought of whoever she’d invited.
Helen brought out the platter of chops and mash and the dish of vegetables, then returned to the kitchen for bread and butter, and a sharp knife. They’d need it to cut the tension, she thought hysterically. David offered to pour Edith a glass of cider and she accepted by inclining her head as if she were the queen. She took a small sip, then set her glass down and fixed her eyes on her still-empty plate. David tried his best to engage Edith in conversation, but she replied in monosyllables, asked him nothing about himself, then excused herself as soon as pudding was finished.
“I’m tired,” Edith said. “Helen, help me upstairs?”
Helen rose to her feet. She tried not to allow her emotions to get the better of her, but she was angry and confused. “Mum, before you go up, there’s something David and I would like to tell you. We are to be married. Soon,” Helen added.
Edith’s expression was stony. “Congratulations,” she snapped. If Helen hadn’t heard the actual word, she might have thought her mother said, “Damn you.” She seemed so angry that she didn’t even bother to glance at Helen’s waist to see if she might be up the duff or make a caustic remark about the reason David was willing to marry her, and so soon.
“Thank you,” David said, rising to his feet. “It was lovely to meet you.”
Edith nodded in his direction and turned to leave the room. Helen helped her up the stairs but didn’t utter a word of reproach. The conversation she’d meant to have with her mother would come later, after David left.
“I’m sorry,” David said once Helen came back down the stairs and into the lounge, where he was standing by the window. “I seem to have done something to offend your mother.”
“You haven’t done anything, and it is I who am sorry. My mother’s behavior was unforgivable, and I intend to ask her why she thought it acceptable to treat you as if you were beneath contempt.”
“Helen, don’t. I don’t want to come between you and the only family you have left. Give it time. I’ll try harder; I’ll win her over.”
“And if you don’t?” Helen asked, fearful that Edith’s derision might cast a cloud over her happiness.
“And if I don’t, then at least we’ll both know that I tried. If your mother continues to dislike me, we’ll deal with it then.”
Helen walked into David’s arms and he held her tight, his lips brushing lightly against her temple. It felt so good to have someone to hold, someone who was willing to put aside his own feelings for the sake of hers. David didn’t need to tell her he loved her. She felt it in his every gaze, his every smile, and his every gesture toward her.
“I wish you could stay,” Helen whispered.
“I do too, but I think we both know this is not the time or the place.”
Helen nodded into his shoulder. Edith wouldn’t come out of her room, even if she heard something untoward, but to make love with her in the house would be disrespectful and embarrassing. Instead, David and Helen sat on the sofa, Helen’s head on David’s shoulder, his temple resting against her hair. He had his arm around her, and she felt more at peace than she had since returning from Bournemouth and finding her mother ill. Soon, they’d spend all their evenings together, and then go up to bed without feeling furtive or ashamed.
“I’d like to set the date,” Helen said defiantly.
“Why don’t we give your mother a few weeks to come round to the idea?” David suggested. “In the meantime, we can begin to plan.”
“All right,” Helen agreed. “No one says I can’t go shopping for a frock or draw up a menu for our wedding breakfast. Whom would we even invite?” she asked, realizing that between her and David they’d only have a handful of guests.
“We don’t have to invite anyone, if you’ve no wish to. It can be just you and me, a hotel room, and a bottle of fizz. What do you say?”
“I say I’ll think about it,” Helen replied. She’d always dreamed of having a church wedding with white flowers and a lace dress, but in her fantasy the pews were always filled with friends and family, the guests happy and smiling, and wishing the newlyweds a long and happy life. Given her mother’s reception of David, she didn’t think she’d be smiling or wishing them well. The only other guests would be Sarah and Bertie, and Olly and Alice. Perhaps they could all go out for a drink after the ceremony before David and Helen went off on their own. It would certainly cost less, Helen mused as she snuggled into David’s side. “It’ll be beautiful, no matter what we do,” she said softly.
David kissed the top of her head. “That it will be.”
After David left, Helen finished tidying up the kitchen and made her way upstairs. A part of her wanted to confront Edith there and then, but she resisted the urge and went to her own room. She was tired and angry. She’d had such hopes for this evening. She’d actually imagined that her mother might be happy for her and offer to help plan the wedding. What a fool she’d been. Of course, Edith wouldn’t be happy, since Helen’s needs conflicted with her own. Helen lay awake for a long time, but eventually fatigue overtook her and she fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter 21
Helen woke to driving rain. It hammered against the windowpanes with surprising force and leached all the light out of the room. More than anything, Helen wished she could stay in bed. She was tired, not having been able to fall asleep immediately last night, and a barely perceptible hint of David’s cologne on her skin reminded her just how much she wished he was lying next to her on this miserable day. Helen peered at the clock. Seven. Time to get ready for work. She swung her legs out of bed, shoved her feet into slippers, and headed to the bathroom. Having seen to personal business, she brushed her teeth and washed her face with cold water. It was a shock to the system, but it helped her to fully wake up.
Helen left the bathroom and was about to go get dressed when something made her pause just outside her mother’s room. Edith was usually awake by the time Helen got up for work, and when Edith was awake, she made noise. Now that Helen thought about it, she’d been unusually quiet last night as well. Helen heard the groaning of the mattress springs when Edith shifted her weight, the padding of Edith’s slippers, and the flushing of the commode when she got up to go to the toilet during the night. She also liked to have a cup of tea first thing in the morning. No sounds came from the kitchen, and Helen experienced a frisson of alarm. She stood in the corridor, unsure what to do. She really had no desire to see her mother this morning and would have gladly left for work without coming face to face with her, but her instinct warned her that something wasn’t quite right. She rapped lightly on the door but received no reply.
“Mum?” she called softly, in case Edith was still asleep. No answer.
“Mum, are you all right?” she tried again. When she heard nothing, she turned the knob and o
pened the door a crack.
Edith lay on her back, her eyes wide open, her hand over her heart. Her face was frozen in a grimace of pain and her mouth was open, as if in a silent scream.
“Oh my God,” Helen exclaimed as she hurried toward the bed. She reached out to check for a pulse, but her fingers met with cold, lifeless skin. Edith had been dead for some time. A sob tore from Helen’s chest as her hand flew to her mouth in shock. She’d been angry with her mother last night, had resented her cool indifference most of her life, but at this moment, she wished only that her mother would wake up. Edith had been difficult and selfish, but she was the only family Helen had left after her father died, and she suddenly felt orphaned, as if she were a small child left to fend for herself. She wished David were there. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what to do. She saw death in all its forms nearly every day, but this was different. This was personal and frightening, and unexpected.
Helen allowed herself a few moments of grief, then left Edith’s room and returned to her own. Normally, she dealt with problems by focusing on the small tasks that made up everyday life; they soothed her and gave her a sense of purpose at a time when everything seemed uncertain. This was no different. Although a tragedy, death had its own protocol and came with a list of things to be attended to. Helen dressed in a somber gray dress and pulled a navy-blue cardigan around her shoulders, grabbed her purse, and stepped out into the street. The rain had stopped, but the sky was dark and broody, and the gutters ran with dirty rainwater. Making sure not to step into any puddles, Helen hurried toward the phone box and made several calls. The first one was to the hospital to tell the matron she wouldn’t be coming in to work. The second was to Dr. Ross. Mrs. Ross informed her that her husband had been out on a call all night, but she expected him back shortly and would give him the message as soon as he arrived.
The Broken (Echoes from the Past Book 8) Page 11
