by Nancy Revell
‘First of all,’ Dr Parker said, ‘are you happy for me to chat to you about it here? We can go somewhere else if you want? I’ve got the time. I don’t have to be back at the hospital until two.’
‘No, no, you’re all right. It’s pretty soundproof in here. Even if someone had their ear to the door they’d struggle to hear anything with the noise out in the yard.’
‘Yes, it is pretty overwhelming, isn’t it? I’m surprised everyone here’s not partially deaf.’
‘Pardon?’ Helen said, deadpan.
John gave a bark of laughter, and Helen smiled. She wished more than anything that they could just sit and chat like two ordinary people, instead of talking about something so dreadfully serious.
Dr Parker leant forward and put his elbows on his legs and clasped his hands, his face now masked with a professional veneer.
‘I know we’ve talked through all the ins and outs of what’s going to happen.’
Helen nodded.
‘But I just wanted to go over everything with you one more time.’ Dr Parker looked into Helen’s amazing eyes and realised with a jolt that what he saw was fear. His heart went out to her.
Personally, he was far from convinced that what she was doing was the right thing, but what did he know? For starters he was a man. And secondly, he had no idea how it must feel to be in Helen’s shoes. This was her decision. And hers alone. He had a responsibility to help her, as he had promised he would. It was not his job to persuade her to do what he thought she should do, or what anyone else thought she should do, for that matter.
‘So, first of all, you know where you’re going and at what time, and who you should ask for?’
Helen nodded.
‘And I know you’ve heard this all before, but I need to recap everything we have talked about thus far.’
This time he saw an incredible sadness in Helen’s eyes.
He kept eye contact with Helen as he spoke softly but clearly and slowly.
He saw the change of emotions as he talked about the procedure, what would happen during it, and what would happen afterwards – as well as the possible side effects, and what might feasibly go wrong.
By the time he finished talking, he could see Helen’s eyes were glistening with the beginnings of tears.
‘Are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do, Helen?’
Helen nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘Well, just remember, you can change your mind at any time.’
Helen tried to force a smile.
‘I know,’ she said, her voice croaky.
Dr Parker stood up.
‘And remember,’ he said, sliding his jacket off the back of the metal chair and hooking it over his arm, ‘that once it’s done, it’s done, there’s no changing your mind then.’
He was going to stop there, but something propelled him on and he said something that he hadn’t intended to say:
‘This is an important decision, Helen. It’s one that you will have to live with for the rest of your life.’
When Dr Parker had gone, Helen shut her office door and went back to her desk to light her cigarette. It tasted awful, even made her feel a little queasy, but she forced herself to smoke, to push back the feelings that had come rushing to the surface.
Just do it! she told herself, as she pretended to rifle through a mound of invoices.
Just get it done and then forget it! she silently ordered herself as she took another long drag on her cigarette.
Chapter Twenty-One
Park Avenue, Roker
‘So it’s definitely happening tomorrow?’
Miriam was standing at the bay window that looked out onto the perfectly landscaped Roker Park, but she was not admiring the view. She was checking that her daughter was nowhere to be seen.
‘Yes, that’s what my sources say,’ Mr Havelock said. He was sitting on the sofa, a large tumbler of whisky in one hand, his cigar in the other.
Miriam looked at her father. She had to hand it to him, he still carried weight – certainly in the town’s hospitals. At least all that money he made a great show of donating was paying dividends.
‘And the doctor – this Dr Billingham who’s doing it – he’s up to the mark?’ Miriam asked.
‘Of course. You don’t think I’d have some butcher operating on my granddaughter, do you?’ Mr Havelock groused. He’d known Billingham for a good number of years – decades, in fact – and he knew from experience that he was up to the job.
‘And she definitely has no idea that we know?’ Miriam asked, taking another drink, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the street.
‘Of course not.’ Mr Havelock’s feathers were now getting ruffled by the barrage of questions. ‘Billingham knows what side his bread’s buttered. On top of which he’s getting handsomely paid for both his expertise and his silence.’ He took a drink. ‘And, of course, the packet he got from coming to me in the first place.’
‘Well, I have to say, I think we both deserve a huge pat on the back.’ Miriam took another drink.
Mr Havelock huffed his agreement. ‘Thank God the family name is saved from scandal.’
‘Not for the first time,’ Miriam said under her breath. ‘What’s that?’ Mr Havelock put his hand to his ear.
‘I was just saying, “In the nick of time,”’ Miriam said. ‘I’m just glad lady luck was on our side,’ Mr Havelock picked up his cigar from the ashtray, ‘and that the young doctor she’s friendly with knew who to send her to.’
‘I don’t think we have lady luck to thank, dear Papa. Don’t forget it was me who put the idea in Helen’s head in the first place.’
‘Well, I think we have her eavesdropping to thank for that,’ Mr Havelock said. ‘Although I personally think she would have come to the same decision even if she hadn’t heard us talking that night.’
‘Well …’ Miriam said. Getting a compliment out of her father was like getting blood out of a stone. ‘Let’s just thank our lucky stars she’s getting rid of it. I don’t even want to think about life if she’d decided to keep it … God, the humiliation. I’d never be able to show my face in public ever again.
‘And not wanting to blow my own trumpet – but it’s also thanks to me that she’s not in communication with her father. I actually think she hates him now. And he’s even stopped writing to her.’
‘Really? That surprises me.’ Mr Havelock thought for a moment. ‘If they had been getting on, do you reckon Jack would have tried to stop her? Do you think he would have wanted her to have the bastard?’ Mr Havelock took a puff on his cigar.
‘Without a doubt,’ Miriam said, coming away from the window. She stared at her father, who looked like he was getting settled for the evening.
‘Well,’ Miriam made a show of looking at her watch, ‘I don’t want to seem like I’m kicking you out, but I think it might be a good idea if you’re not here when Helen gets back. She’ll be in any minute now and we don’t want her thinking we’re here conspiring against her again.’
In truth, Miriam thought it unlikely that Helen would be back for a good while. Ever since the fiasco with Theodore, she’d been working late most nights. But time was getting on and she didn’t want to keep Amelia – or their two naval officers – waiting, did she?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tuesday 28 July
After Helen had zipped up her vanity case, she sat back down on her bed.
It had just gone six o’clock. She still had another two hours before she had to be at the hospital. She’d given up on sleep at five and had slowly got ready – not that she had much to do as she’d been instructed not to put on any make-up and to wear loose, comfortable clothing.
Dr Parker had offered to meet her there, but she’d declined. And Gloria had also offered to go with her, but even if Helen had wanted her there, it simply wasn’t an option.
Picking up her little cream leather case, Helen quietly tiptoed downstairs, not wanting to wake her mother. The
last thing she needed was for her to start quizzing her about where she was going in a floral cotton dress with not a scrap of make-up on.
As the sun was already up and she had plenty of time, Helen decided to walk part of the way. It was certainly early enough for her to do so without the worry of bumping into anyone she knew.
As she strolled along the coast road, her mind started to wander and a picture of Hope came to the fore. Helen had taken her a lovely little green and blue dress the other day and Gloria had commented that it perfectly matched Hope’s eyes. Helen had agreed; it was why she had chosen it.
Hope really was such an adorable little girl, and it never ceased to amaze her how similar she and her little sister were in looks. She had clearly inherited the Crawford dark locks and her own startling emerald eyes.
Walking past the Bungalow Café and following the road around onto Harbour View, Helen started to wonder:
What would my child have looked like?
Would she have looked like Hope?
Helen suddenly stopped walking.
Stop it! she silently screamed at herself. She felt like slapping herself on the head, knocking such stupid thoughts out of her thick skull.
Why are you thinking this now?
Helen started walking again, faster, as if by doing so she might leave her thoughts behind.
She strode along Dame Dorothy Street, looking down at Crown’s shipyard and then at Thompson’s. Looking up, she saw the granite grey barrage balloon, like a lost thundercloud that had drifted into a perfectly clear blue sky.
‘Look to your future.’ Helen said the words out loud, determined to override thoughts of the child that would never be, forcing herself to replay the scene in her head of the launch of SS Brutus, her father by her side, looking as proud as punch.
Having reached the Wearmouth Bridge, but still not wanting to stand still and wait for a tram to take her over to the other side, Helen kept on walking.
When she reached Park Lane, however, she started to tire, and was glad to climb on board a single-decker bus headed for New Durham Road.
By the time it pulled up at the Royal, Helen had successfully put her thoughts back on track. She focused on the future – when she would be free of this burden in her belly and be at liberty to do as she wished, to enjoy the success that awaited her, but that would only be hers without the encumbrance of a child.
Walking along to the hospital, Helen looked at her watch. She was early. She looked over at the entrance to Burn Park and decided to go and sit on one of the benches and continue to focus her thoughts on what was to be.
Just like the array of colourful flower beds that had been carefully nurtured in this little floral haven, her future looked rosy.
Didn’t it?
‘You ready, Parker?’ The surgeon looked across the tray of glinting stainless-steel surgical instruments. He hoped they would do more good than harm in extracting the shrapnel from the deep wound in the young soldier’s leg.
‘Get with it, Parker! You look miles away there. I need you focused on the job in hand.’
‘Yes, sir, all ready. Fully focused, sir,’ Dr Parker reassured, looking over at his superior.
The head surgeon he had been assigned to today had read him well. He had been miles away – approximately five miles away at the Royal.
He had been arguing with himself all night whether to ring this morning and say he had been called away on a family emergency so that he could go and meet Helen. He had wanted to be there to talk to her one last time, to make sure she really was certain that this was what she wanted. When he had seen her at Thompson’s yesterday, he’d picked up a hint of uncertainty – seen a mix of emotions flit across the surface of those incredible eyes of hers.
‘Scalpel,’ the surgeon demanded from the theatre nurse. Dr Parker’s heart went out to Helen. She tried to make out she was incredibly self-assured and a woman of the world, but she was anything but. If she had been, she wouldn’t presently be waiting to go into surgery herself.
No, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind whose fault this all was.
Theodore bloody Harvey-Smith.
He had used Helen’s naïvety to get what he wanted, but it was Helen who was paying the price.
As Dr Parker watched the surgeon prepare to begin the operation, he wished more than anything that it was Theodore laid out unconscious in front of him – and that it was his own hand that was about to make the first incision.
‘Pol, will you tell Rosie that something’s come up?’ Gloria was staring at her workmate and praying she wouldn’t ask too many questions.
‘Yes, course I will.’ Polly looked at Gloria, puzzled. She’d seemed distracted from the moment she had arrived to drop off Hope.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘Nothing serious,’ Gloria said, starting to turn and make her way back up the embankment onto High Street East.
‘It’s just something I’ve got to do,’ she said, raising her voice as she moved against the swell of bodies heading towards the ferry.
‘How long will you be?’ Polly shouted as she herself was pushed forward by the incoming tide of flat caps.
‘Couple of hours. Tops!’ Gloria’s voice could be heard, but she was no longer visible.
When Gloria reached the main road, she looked to see if there was either a bus or a tram coming, but there wasn’t.
‘Typical!’ she said aloud as she started to break into a jog.
By the time she reached the centre of town she was dripping with sweat. Running in heavy leather boots on a hot summer’s morning was bloomin’ hard work. Gloria looked at the clock hanging above the main office of the bus depot. She wouldn’t make it if she ran, but she would have a chance if a bus came in the next few minutes.
As luck would have it, a bus pulled up. Gloria paid her fare and thanked the gods above when the driver immediately revved the engine and drove out of the station.
Helen looked at her watch. It was a quarter to eight. Time to go. As she walked across to the Royal, she couldn’t help but think that it was the most beautiful yet the most awful day ever.
As she stepped through the swing doors and followed the signs to the gynaecology ward, she tried to keep her mind on the future. On tomorrow. When all of this would be over with and she could begin her new life.
So why couldn’t she get John’s blasted last words to her out of her mind?
‘This is an important decision, Helen. It’s one that you will have to live with for the rest of your life.’
When Gloria reached the hospital it was gone eight.
‘Still time,’ she muttered as she stepped into the cool of the hospital reception area, walked straight ahead, then turned right down a long corridor. She knew where she was going. She’d had both boys in this hospital and would have had Hope here as well had her impatient little girl not decided to make an early appearance.
Reaching the thick swing doors of the gynaecology ward, Gloria peered through the small glass panels in the top, but was unable to see Helen.
Pushing the doors open, she saw the ward nurse sitting behind a table to the right. Gloria was suddenly conscious of how she must look. A red-faced, middle-aged woman in dirty overalls and hobnailed boots. Still, she didn’t care. She had to see Helen. Sod the consequences.
‘Sorry to bother yer,’ Gloria put on her friendly face and tried to appear calm and normal, ‘but I’m looking fer a friend of my daughter. She will have just been admitted. She’s probably just come in, actually.’
‘Oh, yes.’ The young nurse looked down her admissions list, which was attached to a clipboard lying on her desk. ‘Helen Dodds.’
For a moment Gloria was puzzled, before realising that Helen was obviously not going to be there under her real name.
‘That’s her. Helen Dodds,’ Gloria repeated.
The young nurse looked back down at her list and then fumbled around for another sheet of paper before looking up again.
‘Oh, looks like she was first on this morning’s rota.’ She smiled up at Gloria. ‘Always good to be first to go down. No hanging about.’ The nurse smiled again.
Gloria stared at her.
‘What? So she’s gone down to surgery already?’
The pretty blonde nurse nodded again.
‘Yes, the porters wheeled her down a few minutes ago.’ Gloria felt her heart sink to the bottom of her boots. ‘Did you want me to give her a message when she comes back up?’ the nurse asked.
Gloria shook her head.
‘No, no … Thanks anyway.’
And with that Gloria turned and made her way out of the hospital and back to work.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A week later
Tuesday 4 August
‘“Victory. Victory at all costs. Victory in spite of all terror. Victory, however long and hard the road may be, for without victory there is no survival.”’
Dorothy stood on a crate, the end of a welding rod in her hand, pinching it between two fingers as if it were a real cigar.
Angie, Martha, Hannah and Olly were chuckling away at Dorothy’s midday performance. A group of caulkers sitting eating their lunch by the quayside were also laughing at Dorothy’s very convincing imitation of the country’s leader.
Rosie, Gloria and Polly looked at each other and shook their heads in mock disapproval.
‘And may I introduce to you my lovely wife, Clementine.’ Dorothy threw her arm out in Angie’s direction.
‘Give over, Dor.’ Angie shuffled back on the bench she was sitting on. As she did so she caught sight of Bel walking across the yard.
‘Here’s Bel! She can be your Clementine,’ Angie declared. ‘No, she can’t!’ Bel shouted back. She had been watching Dorothy’s impression as she had walked across the yard. ‘I’ve come here for a bit of peace and quiet.’
