by Nancy Revell
‘Just common sense really. I’m sure that’s your take on it as well?’
Helen nodded. ‘It’s a shame that it wasn’t the kind of reunion you’d expect, having not seen your son for nearly four years, but that’s life, isn’t it? Nothing ever turns out the way you expect?’
Dr Parker nodded. They were both quiet for a moment. Both thinking their own thoughts.
‘But it’s early days,’ Helen said eventually, ‘and at least everything’s out in the open. She’s written a letter to Gordon, so he should know by now. No more secrets.’ Helen got up. ‘Talking of which – ’ she looked at her watch ‘ – I’d better go and see Grandmama before visiting time is over.’
‘How’s your dad dealing with Bobby’s return – or rather, Bobby with your dad?’
‘Well, they’ve barely spoken. Dad’s not said anything, just that it’s good Bobby’s back and that he’s all right, bar his hearing, but Gloria said Bobby gave Jack a look like the summons when he left on Friday. And Dorothy said if looks could kill, Jack would be six feet under.’
They reluctantly made their way towards the main entrance.
‘Miriam still not back?’
‘No.’ Helen shook her head. ‘It’s the Grand I feel sorry for – their takings must have plummeted.’
Dr Parker smiled. He knew Helen’s jokes about her mother masked her hurt that their relationship was devoid of any kind of maternal love or care.
‘And the twins are doing all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, they’re well – Dr Billingham’s popping in and checking up on them still. He doesn’t have to now, but I think he enjoys going round there.’
‘And our little godson is doing well?’ he asked.
Helen loved it when John referred to Artie as our godson. ‘Spoilt rotten, of course.’ She smiled.
‘I feel awful I’ve not been to see him,’ he said.
Helen knew she should tell Dr Parker that he was invited to Pearl and Bill’s wedding reception, but she didn’t. She knew it was wrong, but she just couldn’t face a rerun of Artie’s christening, with the two doctors joined at the hip, Claire holding his hand, laughing and chatting with everyone, John by her side.
‘Don’t worry, Polly totally understands,’ she said instead.
Giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, Helen waved him goodbye and headed into the cool interior of the asylum. Walking through the entrance area, she smiled at Genevieve, the elderly receptionist. As she hurried along the corridor towards her grandmother’s room, Helen thought she’d leave it a little longer to tell John about the invite to Pearl and Bill’s wedding. Hopefully, by the time she ‘remembered’ to invite him, it would be too late for him to get the time off.
Walking back to the Ryhope Emergency Hospital, Dr Parker wished he had asked Helen about Matthew. She would start to think it rude him not asking about her boyfriend; after all, she always asked about Claire, even if it was just to be polite. But for some reason he always avoided bringing up Matthew. It was as though he blanked him out of his mind when he was with Helen. Was the thought of them together too painful? His jealousy too unpalatable, making him push away like a plate of unwanted food any thoughts of Helen and Matthew, the glamorous Hollywood couple?
He hurried through the hospital’s main gates and down the long, shingled pathway. Next time they saw each other he would ask, otherwise it was going to become a problem – the elephant in the room – and he didn’t want that. Helen was his friend, they talked about everything, nothing was off-limits. They had a closeness he didn’t want to lose. A friendship he did not want to forsake.
As he approached the stone steps and took them two at a time, it occurred to him that he and Helen had been through more together than most married couples had in their lifetime – a pregnancy, a miscarriage, the discovery that she had a half-sister and of her grandfather’s sordid past. They had been through all this trauma together. It didn’t matter that she was with someone else; John would not allow Matthew to break the very strong and special bond he had with Helen.
‘Hi, Denise.’ Dr Parker walked over to the reception desk in the main foyer. ‘I’ve just bumped into Helen over at the asylum and she said she rang me yesterday to tell me she was heading over, but I didn’t get a message.’
‘Oh.’ Denise’s hand went straight to her mouth, something Dr Parker had learnt from Dr Eris meant that whatever someone was going to say next might well be a lie. ‘I’m soo sorry, Dr Parker. I completely forgot. It was madness yesterday.’ She looked down at her desk and rifled through some notelets. Her hand kept touching the corners of her mouth as though she was trying to brush crumbs away. ‘I wrote it down and then completely forgot to give it to you. I’m really sorry.’ She looked at Dr Parker, her face showing the sincerity of her apology.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dr Parker said. ‘None of us is perfect – thank goodness!’
‘I hope it wasn’t anything important?’ Denise said, her pale, English-rose complexion now flushed.
‘No, nothing spoilt,’ Dr Parker smiled, feeling guilty for making Denise so upset and remorseful. ‘I was just saying to Helen it was unusual because you are always so efficient. Please, don’t fret about it.’
And with that Dr Parker walked back to theatre, his mind now back on his patients and the surgery he had scheduled in for later that afternoon.
Helen knocked gently on the door of her grandmother’s room and eased it open. Henrietta was sitting where she always sat when she was expecting Helen – at her little round table in the middle of the room with a book open and two glasses of water poured out.
‘Ah, my darling, you’re late today.’ It was not a reprimand, rather an observation.
‘Sorry, Grandmama, but I got a little waylaid.’
‘By a dashing gentleman, I hope.’ Henrietta smiled, her thin lips a slash of scarlet lipstick. ‘Wanting to sweep you off your feet and gallop off into the sunset.’ She waved her hand in the air as she spoke, as though the gentleman and his lover were riding past her.
Helen looked at her grandmother as she sat down and was amazed at the care she took over her appearance, the same care, Henrietta had told her, she took every day, not just when she had visitors. Henrietta had shown her granddaughter her make-up: her cream rouge, blue eyeshadow, dark brown eye pencils and white face powder and puff. Helen had asked what happened when she ran out, and Henrietta had explained she simply told the nurse and she would bring her replacements. Henrietta saw nothing unusual in a nurse bringing her make-up just as she would her medication.
Helen had been keen to know more about the pills her grandmother was on, but she knew that for now this was something she could not be privy to as it would mean she would be forced to deal with Henrietta’s doctor – and there was no way she wanted Dr Eris to know that she was visiting Miss Girling. She knew it was inevitable that the time would come, but she was determined to put it off for as long as possible.
‘And how’s my Little Match Girl?’ Henrietta asked. It was the same question she always asked on her arrival. When Helen had first started to visit her grandmother, it became clear that Henrietta missed Pearl, her former scullery maid, who had visited her regularly until just before Christmas. Helen had tried to imagine the two together but failed. They must have forged a friendship of some sort, though, as Pearl had gained Henrietta’s trust to such an extent that she’d dug back into a past that she, like Pearl, had very much wanted to forget.
‘She’s fine,’ Helen said. ‘Busy running the pub.’
Helen had told Pearl that she didn’t have to continue coming to the asylum if she didn’t want to. If Pearl felt as though she had to keep visiting just to keep the threat of Henrietta a viable one, then it was all right, she didn’t have to any more. Helen had said she was happy to take the baton. The relief she had seen on Pearl’s worn face was telling. She saw at that moment just how painful it must have been for her to relive the horror of her time in the Havelock house again and again, every time sh
e visited Henrietta.
‘Yer knar he won’t give up, don’t yer?’ Pearl had said. ‘As long as that man’s still drawing breath, he’ll be a worry.’ Helen had nodded. She, too, knew that her grandfather would never give up trying to find a way out of the stranglehold he’d been put in.
‘And Miriam – where’s my daughter?’ Henrietta asked as Helen took a sip of water. This was another question Henrietta would ask without fail whenever Helen visited.
‘She’s still away, Grandmama, but she’ll be back soon,’ Helen said, trying to sound convincing when in fact she had no idea when her mother would be back.
Helen looked at her grandmother’s long taffeta skirt and touched it. ‘Oh, Grandmama, I do love this skirt. The colour is amazing.’
‘The hue of a ripening damson,’ Henrietta said, touching it with fingernails that had been painted an identical colour.
Helen smiled. She was getting used to her grandmother’s poetic descriptions, as well as her many eccentricities. ‘So, what are we reading today?’
‘Persuasion,’ Henrietta declared. ‘The last fully completed novel by Jane Austen, published at the end of 1817, six months after her death.’
Helen smiled. She recalled being made to read a number of Jane Austen novels at school.
‘I know you probably read it when you were younger,’ Henrietta said, as though reading her granddaughter’s mind. ‘But this time, you will enjoy it,’ she said as she pushed the book towards Helen. ‘You might even relate to it.’ She then clapped her hands lightly and noiselessly. ‘You start,’ she commanded.
After half an hour of reading and discussing certain passages, their time was up.
‘Wait, wait.’ Henrietta got up and went over to her bedside drawer. She pulled it open and took out another copy of Persuasion. She carefully wrapped it in one of her colourful silk scarves and handed it over.
‘How come you’ve got two copies, Grandmama?’ Helen was worried. She had repeatedly told Henrietta that her visits were a secret – not to be discussed with anyone from the hospital, no one at all. So far, it was only Genevieve who was aware that Helen visited Miss Girling, and that was the way she wanted to keep it. ‘Won’t they wonder why you want two copies?’
‘They think I’m mad,’ she said, giving Helen a conspiratorial smile, ‘mad as a hatter, they do. They think it is one of my affectations. If they don’t do as I ask, I put on my face.’ Henrietta put on a forlorn, deeply depressed look, which Helen thought very convincing. ‘Then they give me what I want.
‘Don’t worry,’ she added, putting her finger to her lips. It was her way of reassuring her granddaughter that she was keeping her promise not to talk about her visits.
Helen took the book and gave her grandmother a quick kiss on both rouged cheeks. Henrietta did the same to Helen. It was their routine before they parted, and always ended with Helen reassuring Henrietta that she would see her again very soon.
Leaving the Borough Lunatic Asylum, Helen’s thoughts wandered to her mother. She had now been away for over two months – much longer than she had thought she’d be, although it had to be said, Helen was glad of the break. Even though they had never spent much time together, the atmosphere when they were under the same roof was still tense. Since her mother had left on Boxing Day, Helen had had the house to herself and was enjoying the quiet and calm atmosphere. It was what she needed at the moment. It gave her the peace to think, to face up to reality and be truthful with herself. And the truth was, her trips to Ryhope were as much about John as they were about Henrietta. She was in love with him and she had to accept it. Just as she had to accept that he was with Claire. Just as she also had to remind herself that even if he wasn’t with Claire, he would still not be asking her to be his wife – she was quite simply not marriage material.
‘Dr Eris.’ Denise waved a manicured hand over as Claire walked into the foyer.
Claire furrowed her brow questioningly as she approached the polished wooden front reception desk.
‘He knows,’ Denise whispered, her hand fiddling with one of her pearl earrings.
‘Who knows what?’ Dr Eris snapped.
‘Dr Parker … he knows …’
Dr Eris felt a little nauseous. If John found out she had done a deal with Denise to block messages from Helen getting through to him, their relationship would be dead in the water. She already felt as though she was struggling to keep it afloat. She’d been over the moon he’d popped in to see her about going out for dinner later on this week – then gutted to have just heard from Genevieve that he’d bumped into Helen afterwards and they had enjoyed a walk around the grounds.
And now this.
‘He knows I didn’t pass on a message Helen left yesterday about coming over here,’ Denise said, her hands now clasped together on top of the reception desk.
‘And does he think it was just that message – or that there have been other messages you’ve not been passing on?’ Dr Eris looked around to make sure no one was about and could hear their conversation.
‘Well, I think it was just this message he thought I’d forgotten to pass on – he said it had surprised him because I was so “efficient”, and not to worry, there was no harm done.’
Dr Eris’s body tensed in silent fury. No, there hadn’t been any harm done. Far from it. John and Helen had enjoyed a lovely romantic walk in the grounds on one of the sunniest days of the year so far. They couldn’t have picked a nicer day.
‘Do you think he suspected anything?’ Dr Eris needed to know.
Denise thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell with Dr Parker. He’s always so polite and friendly.’
‘Let’s hope not,’ Dr Eris said. The chances were John hadn’t guessed. He wasn’t the suspicious type. And besides which his head was always full of work – especially lately. Any free time he had was spent developing a new type of prosthesis. He was obsessed with it. He’d become more obsessed with it since his last rejection by the Ministry of War, who had informed him that they needed him there rather than on the front line. They had got wind of his research into developing more advanced artificial limbs and they’d stipulated they wanted him to continue.
The phone rang and Dr Eris waited until Denise had put the call through to one of the wards.
‘Let’s cut it while we’re ahead,’ she said.
‘What? No more not passing on messages?’
Dr Eris nodded.
‘So, I now ring and tell Dr Parker every time Miss Crawford calls?’ she asked, just to make sure.
‘Yes, exactly,’ Dr Eris said, although it pained her to say so.
‘But,’ Denise hesitated, ‘that doesn’t mean you’ll stop organising my …’ she dropped her voice ‘… you know, the date you promised to set up with Dr Green from the Royal?’
Denise had carried out her part of the bargain to the full: being careful to ‘forget’ to pass on a good percentage of Helen’s messages over the past six months, certainly enough to scupper quite a number of meetings between Dr Eris’s beau and the gorgeous Miss Helen Crawford. Dr Eris, on the other hand, hadn’t really followed through on her side of the bargain. She’d set her up with a couple of dates, but they’d been few and far between.
‘Of course I will.’ Dr Eris smiled at Denise. One more and that was her lot. She walked away, feeling more than a little disgruntled. It looked as though she would have to figure out a new way of getting shot of Helen – once and for all.
Chapter Seventeen
Friday 10 March
When Bobby knocked on Gloria’s front door, his heart leapt on seeing that it was Dorothy who answered, even if the look she was giving him was far from welcoming.
Dorothy kept her eyes on Bobby as she turned her head slightly and shouted out, ‘Oh, look who’s honoured us with his presence.’
Gloria came bustling out of the kitchen. ‘Stop it with the snarky comments, Dor, and let him in.’
Bobby tipped an imaginary hat at Dorothy, wh
o pulled the door wide open and stood aside.
‘Hello, Mam.’ Bobby stooped to give Gloria a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t quite the bear hug she’d had when he’d arrived back home last week, but she’d take what she could get. He was here, wasn’t he. Even though it was with conditions. ‘Come and sit down and I’ll get us all a cuppa.’ She waved her hand over to the table.
‘And don’t worry,’ Dorothy added as she followed him into the flat, ‘the evil Jack Crawford is nowhere to be seen.’
Bobby sighed but didn’t say anything. Jack’s absence had been his one stipulation to his mam when he’d caught her after work and said he’d like to come and see her at the flat and meet his little sister properly. He had also purposely asked to come on Friday, having learnt from Polly that every Friday Dorothy, and sometimes Angie, would go to see Hope before their night out at the Ritz. It explained why she had been so done up the night of his arrival.
‘Ah, there she is,’ Bobby said, his face lighting up on seeing his sister sitting on the rug with her dollies. He pulled out a chocolate bar from his trouser pocket. ‘A little treat from your big brother Bobby.’ He crouched down next to Hope, whose little face lit up. Her hands stretched out and she took the chocolate.
‘Luckily, she’s already had her tea,’ said Dorothy.
Bobby looked up to see her towering over him, her arms folded.
‘So it’s OK to give her the chocolate, but check next time,’ she said.
Bobby suppressed a smile. ‘Roger that, ma’am.’ He touched his forehead in a mock salute.
‘And Gloria always makes sure Hope offers round any treats she gets, so she learns how to share.’
‘Dor!’ Gloria shouted through from the kitchen. ‘Give me a hand in here, will you?’
Dorothy hesitated before doing Gloria’s bidding.
Half an hour later, they had all sunk a pot of tea, Hope had consumed the entire chocolate bar, after no one had taken up the offer of a chunk, and after a brief frenzy of activity playing hide-and-seek with Bobby – quite some feat in such a small flat – she was on her last legs and struggling to keep her eyes open.
