by Nancy Revell
‘I saw you managed to have a catch-up with Dad,’ she said, sidling up to him as he waited by the bar.
Dr Parker turned round and smiled. Helen’s beauty and those emerald eyes never failed to take his breath away.
‘Yes, yes, he seems very well, doesn’t he?’ he said. ‘I can’t believe it’s been over two years since it was doubtful whether or not he was going to come out of his coma, never mind make a full recovery.’
Helen nodded, thinking back to that time. It had been when she and John had first met each other.
‘I told him I’d still like to write a paper on his case when the war’s over. There’s still so little known about retrograde amnesia.’
Helen laughed. ‘John, you’re always thinking of work.’ She looked across at Polly, who was handing Artie to Bel. ‘So, did you enjoy your time with our godson? You and Claire looked like you were having a good coo over him.’ Helen tried to keep any jealousy she’d felt on seeing them looking quite the cosy couple out of her tone.
‘Yes, yes,’ Dr Parker said. ‘I had to apologise to Polly for being an absent godfather. It’s shameful I’ve not seen him since the christening.’
Helen laughed. ‘You’re far too conscientious, John. I’m sure Polly does not mind at all. She knows you’re saving lives and limbs.’ As she spoke, her vision strayed to Major Black in his wheelchair. He had lost both limbs in the First War. He was puffing away on a large torpedo-shaped cigar and was in deep conversation with Agnes and Dr Billingham.
‘Besides,’ Helen said, ‘Artie’s other godfather is doing a sterling job.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s becoming quite a fixture at the Elliots’.’
‘Really?’ John said, looking over at Dr Billingham and giving him a wave. He knew it must be hard for Helen to regularly see the man who had saved her life but had been unable to do the same for the baby she’d been carrying.
Helen lowered her voice. ‘I’m not sure whether it’s Agnes or the lovely food she keeps serving every time he turns up that has him making regular trips into the east end. But judging by how she’s dressed today, and the fact she let Vivian loose on her hair this morning before she did Pearl’s, I think I know what I’d be putting my money on.’
‘Looks like love is in the air all round,’ Dr Parker said, looking across at the next table to see Angie and Quentin chatting away. They looked as besotted with each other as when he had seen them at the Palatine on Christmas Eve.
‘I think you’re right,’ she agreed.
Hearing Dorothy laugh, they both looked across to see her leaning into Toby, who was putting his arm around her and pulling her close.
‘And if Dorothy gets her way, there’ll be a ring on her finger in the not too distant future.’
‘And then there’s you and Matthew,’ Dr Parker said. The words were out before he could stop them. He’d had more to drink than usual, which appeared to have had the effect of stripping him of his usual inhibitions.
Helen spluttered. ‘What do you mean by that?’ Her face was a mix of amusement and incredulity.
‘Well, I saw you were both in the Echo again the other day,’ Dr Parker said, immediately feeling a little embarrassed he’d brought up the subject. Damn that last pint.
‘Yes,’ Helen said, brow furrowed, ‘the one taken at the launch at Pickersgill’s last Friday?’
‘That’s the one.’ Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound. ‘I’m just waiting to see both your names in the Announcements section, although I hope you tell me before I have to read it there first.’
Helen looked at Dr Parker as though he was crazy. ‘What on earth are you talking about, John?’
‘Well, you know, if Matthew were to propose to you—’
Helen hooted with laughter. ‘Well, I think we might have to start courting first. And I can’t see that ever happening.’
‘What?’ Dr Parker had been of the firm belief that Helen and Matthew had been an item since Artie’s birth in September, if not before then. ‘You’re not courting?’
‘No, we most certainly are not.’ Helen said it in such a way that it was clear she was telling the truth; not that she’d have any reason to lie.
Again, Helen laughed. ‘I’m amazed you’d think that, John.’ She lowered her voice and quickly looked around to make sure Matthew was still sitting at the table with Rosie and a lovestruck Charlotte and was not able to hear their conversation. She mightn’t want to date Matthew, but she also didn’t want to hurt his feelings. ‘You know me so well and yet you think I’d be with someone like Matthew?’
‘Well,’ John started to defend himself, when actually he felt like rejoicing, ‘it’s not such a stretch of the imagination. He’s not exactly a bad catch. Tall, dark and handsome, and even if he is a widower, he’s still relatively young … comes from a good background …’
Helen looked at John and thought he was right. She understood why he would think that because he had no idea her heart was still yearning for someone else – for him.
‘Now you’re starting to sound like some society matchmaker,’ Helen chuckled. She looked around the room again and saw that Matthew had got up and was introducing himself to Bobby, no doubt interested to see who his secretary had her eye on. He had told her that Dahlia was single and that she had hinted to him on occasion that it was something she was keen on changing.
Helen turned her attention back to John. She hadn’t eaten much and the vodka and soda she’d drunk had gone to her head a little. Suddenly, she had a fantasy of stepping forward a little so that their bodies were touching and kissing him gently on the lips. She instantly reprimanded herself.
‘But even if Matthew and I were courting,’ Helen said, taking another sip of her drink, ‘I doubt very much he’d be dropping down on bended knee.’
‘Why on earth not?’ Now it was Dr Parker’s turn to sound incredulous. ‘Most men would be queuing up to walk you down the aisle.’
‘Perhaps,’ Helen said, again dropping her voice, ‘but not if they knew the whole truth.’
‘The whole truth about what?’ Dr Parker was totally perplexed.
‘About my life,’ Helen whispered. ‘About all the things that have happened.’ She looked at John. ‘You know, men expect their brides to be married in white. To be virtuous.’
Dr Parker hooted with laughter. ‘Really, Helen, you do amaze me. You’re one of the most progressive women I know and here you are expounding an ideology I would have thought you wouldn’t give the time of day to.’
‘What, you don’t agree with it?’
‘Of course I don’t agree with it. Honestly, Helen, I really would have thought you would know me better than that. It shouldn’t matter about any of those things. What matters is that you love each other and want to be with each other for the rest of your lives. It doesn’t matter one jot what has happened in either of your lives beforehand.’
Helen couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘Really? That’s what you really think?’
‘Of course,’ Dr Parker said.
‘With regard to your own life, as well as to other people’s?’ Helen persisted. She still couldn’t quite believe that she had got it so wrong for so long.
‘Of course about my own life.’ He looked at Helen and furrowed his brow. ‘As if I’m going to say it’s fine for other men, but not for me.’ His laughter this time was laced with exasperation.
‘You are the most complex woman I’ve ever known,’ he said, shaking his head.
Helen was looking at John, desperately wanting to say so many things to him, to tell him that she’d been in love with him for so long and still was, that the only reason she hadn’t told him was because she thought he’d never consider dating her because of her past.
But she knew she couldn’t.
John was here with his girlfriend. It would be inappropriate and undignified and quite frankly, embarrassing.
‘You two look as though you’re having a rather interesting – and might I
say, very animated – conversation.’
Helen heard Claire’s soft, lilting voice before she saw her. She looked round and desperately tried to think up a convincing lie. Seeing Toby talking to Dorothy, she dropped her voice. ‘Just chatting about one of the workers, who, it’s looking likely, might well be getting engaged.’
Helen looked at Claire, who flashed John a look. It was a look which hinted that Dorothy might not be the only person expecting a marriage proposal in the near future.
As the late afternoon turned into early evening, some of the older guests, and those with children, started to say their farewells. Seeing Kate chatting to Pearl at the bar, Rosie knew she would be telling Pearl that she was leaving and that the dress was for keeps, but if she wanted it looking after until she wore it again, she would love to use it as the Maison Nouvelle’s new window display, along with the headpiece. Rosie found it curious that the pair got on. Rosie wondered if it was because they had both spent much of their lives on the wrong side of the tracks.
Shortly after Kate’s departure, Agnes and Beryl left to relieve Beryl’s daughters, Audrey and Iris, of their child-minding duties. They were followed by Dr Billingham and then Mr Clement, the photographer, and his wife and three daughters. Georgina Pickering, who’d become close to the women after being introduced to them by Rosie, left with the Clements. Georgina was now scraping a meagre living reporting and taking photographs for the local paper, having vowed to herself that she would not go back to doing private investigations; the guilt of the work she had done for Miriam still weighed heavily on her and she worried the women would discover that it was she who had found out their secrets and handed the information over to their nemesis. Today, she had enjoyed picking Mr Clement’s brain on all things photography related, and having done so, was eager to get back home to check on her father, who had not been well enough to attend the celebrations; nor had he had the inclination, but he was happy to hear about the event second-hand from his daughter.
Mr and Mrs Perkins left with Martha, followed by Vera and Rina, who had been complimented many times over for the spread they had magicked up despite the restrictions of rationing. Rina had mentioned Vera’s café on High Street East in passing to those she didn’t know, saying that it would be lovely to see them there in the future. Vera listened as Rina did an excellent job of drumming up business, making people’s mouths water with her descriptions of the special Jewish pastries she made, as well as the more traditional cakes Vera baked, which ‘taste like they used to before the war’. Feeling a little tipsy on port, Vera had nearly told Rina how glad she was that she had taken her on two years ago, but not wanting to spoil her reputation as a curmudgeonly old woman, she’d refrained.
Bel was desperate to get back to the twins but had stayed longer, knowing how much it meant to her ma that she had her family around her. It wasn’t often that she, Maisie and her ma were together. Maisie and Bel had given the bride and groom a rather unconventional wedding gift by ensuring that Ronald, who was Pearl’s former drinking and poker-playing buddy and amorous pursuer, did not turn up to partake in the celebrations. It had been easily enough done by exchanging booze and fags for the promise of a no-show. Bel and Joe finally left when George returned in his MG to pick up Maisie and Vivian, having already taken Lily back to the bordello first.
Pearl waved them all off on the doorstep of the Tatham and stayed there for a moment, enjoying the quietness of the evening and thinking that today hadn’t been a bad one. Not bad at all.
Gloria had left earlier with Hope, who had exhausted herself playing with Lucille; the pair had spent most of the time running up and down the hallway that led from the front of the pub to the back. Jack had followed shortly afterwards.
The women welders had naturally gravitated into a group by the bar and were chatting away. Toby and Quentin were talking with Olly, whom they knew a little, and were surprised at how well they all got on.
Dorothy, naturally, was holding court, making Rosie, Polly, Hannah, Charlotte and Angie either chuckle, tsk or roll their eyes in despair.
Bobby was sitting at a table with Dahlia and Marie-Anne and a lad called Hector who was one of Joe’s Home Guard unit.
‘Same again, everyone?’ he asked, standing up.
‘Yes, please, Bobby.’ Dahlia gave a Bobby a smile, making a point of crossing her long, very slender legs, causing her dress to slide up.
‘Cheers, mate,’ said Hector. ‘My shout next.’
‘Thanks, Bobby,’ said Marie-Anne. ‘You know, you’re so much nicer than I expected.’ She put her hand to her mouth.
Bobby let out a bellow of laughter. ‘No guesses who you’ve been chatting to.’ He looked over at Dorothy, who was regaling her friends with a story that was making them all chuckle.
He walked over to the bar and ordered sherry for the women, a pint for Hector and a shandy for himself. Angie had now taken over the story, which he had ascertained was about how she and Dorothy had come to be friends and which involved some bloke called Eddie the riveter who had been seeing another woman behind Dorothy’s back. Bobby thought Eddie the biggest fool on the planet. He continued to eavesdrop and heard that the other woman was Angie.
‘I’ll never forget as long as I live,’ Angie regaled, ‘sitting with Eddie and his mates, and this strange woman wearing overalls comes over as if she’s gonna give him a pint, ’n she says, “This one’s for free, like all the others you’ve had out of me.” And then she pours the whole lot over his head. Eee, I couldn’t believe it! And then she turns to me and says, “If I were you, I’d keep my legs and purse shut with this one. Trust me. No good will come of it.”’
Bobby had to stop himself smiling as all the women started hooting with laughter remembering that day in the Admiral.
‘I thought to myself,’ Angie said, looking at her best mate, ‘sod Eddie, I want to be with that mad cow – and all her mates she’s drinking with. They look a right lot!’
Bobby couldn’t help but feel the same now.
He was just paying for the drinks when he felt someone bump into him.
It was Toby.
‘Sorry there, old chap.’
‘No worries,’ Bobby said, ‘good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Dorothy.’ This was a little bit of an exaggeration as Dorothy hadn’t exactly chatted to him directly about Toby, but he had picked up bits and pieces from what she had told Gloria during their Friday nights with Hope.
‘All good, I hope?’ Toby said, putting out his hand.
The two men shook.
‘Dorothy tells me you were on HMS Opportune?’
Bobby nodded and seeing Geraldine putting the drinks he’d ordered on a tray, he handed over a note and told her to keep the change. The girl had been run ragged all day and looked ready to drop.
‘And Dorothy tells me that you’re with the War Office?’ Bobby asked.
Toby nodded.
There was a moment’s awkwardness.
‘Well, nice to meet you, Toby. You’re a very lucky chap.’ He nodded over to Dorothy, who had just noticed the two chatting and did not look pleased.
Toby chuckled. ‘And you too, old chap.’ He flicked a look over to Dahlia, who had her compact out and was reapplying her lipstick.
Bobby smiled and picked up his tray of drinks. Toby turned to the bar and ordered a round from Geraldine, who had perked up after her generous tip.
Bobby glanced over at Dorothy. She was still giving him a look like thunder, which he returned with the slightest of winks, knowing it would infuriate her.
As he walked back to Dahlia, he caught her looking at Matthew. It would seem they were using each other to make the true objects of their affections jealous. Unfortunately, looking at the way Matthew was talking with Helen, and Dorothy with Toby, neither he nor Dahlia was having much success.
Seeing Toby putting his arm around Dorothy’s waist, Bobby felt a stab of jealousy. Still, he wasn’t one to give up. Dorothy might well be on the verge of being
proposed to, but it hadn’t happened yet.
He felt there was a shred of hope. Dorothy was passionate about him, that much was obvious – just not in a good way. What he had to work out now was how to turn that round before it was too late.
When Helen went to bed that night, she tried to read another chapter of Persuasion, but just couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about was her conversation with John. It was all she’d been able to think about since their talk at the Tatham. Every time she thought about John’s words, she felt a searing excitement. Why had they never discussed this before? Why had she just assumed he wanted a bride who was as pure as the driven snow? Helen gave up on reading and switched off the light. All she’d been able to hear since she’d fallen for John was her mother’s voice telling her she was ‘sullied’ and ‘spoiled goods’. And she had believed her. She’d been brainwashed. But today she had found out that John didn’t think like this at all! He clearly didn’t give two hoots whether the woman he married was ‘virtuous’ or not. For John it was all about love. He was a true romantic.
If that was the case, and if he was attracted to her, as she suspected he was, an attraction she’d thought he had fought because he would never be able to make an honest woman of her, then …
Helen’s heart started pounding as she considered the possibilities.
But then her elation was felled by thoughts of Dr Eris.
John was with Claire.
They were serious.
He was a romantic.
Therefore, if John was with Claire, he must be in love with her. Mustn’t he?
When John and Claire got back to Ryhope, they were caught by Genevieve as they came through the main entrance.
‘Dr Parker?’
‘Yes, Genevieve?’
‘Dr Jameson has just rung asking for your advice on something or other. He sounded a little fraught, I have to say. I asked him if it could wait until morning, but he insisted that as soon as I saw you return I had to “plead with you” to go and see him on the ward. His words, not mine.’
