by Nancy Revell
‘Well,’ Helen said, ‘you were wrong.’
‘What do you mean, wrong?’ Theodore’s voice was raspy with nerves.
‘Well, put simply, that natural family-planning method you reassured me was foolproof was not …’
Helen took Theo’s hand and placed it on her stomach so that he could feel the small bump. His touch repulsed her, but she knew it would be the last time he would ever lay hands on her.
Theodore felt the solid, rounded bump that was pressing against the fabric of Helen’s designer dress. He pulled his hand away and stared at Helen, aghast.
‘Why, Theo, you’ve gone rather grey. I hope you’re not going to faint on me, are you?’ Helen laughed lightly.
Theodore looked about him as though he was seeking an escape route.
‘Let’s hope no one’s seen you, eh?’ She raised an eyebrow at Theodore before making a point of looking about her. ‘Mind you, if they have, I’m sure you’ll be able to make something up – you’re rather good at that, aren’t you?’
Theodore continued to stare at Helen.
‘Gosh, Theo. For someone who normally has plenty to say, you seem to have gone awfully quiet. I’m about seventeen weeks, if that’s what you were going to ask me. Well, that’s what the doctor reckons. I’ve been given a due date of around the NewYear. So,’ Helen chuckled again, ‘I guess if it’s a boy it’ll have to be Adam and if it’s a girl, I’m leaning towards either Eve or January.’
Helen had no intention of calling her child either Adam, Eve or January, of course.
Theodore put his hands on his hips and leant over as if he’d just done a sprint round the block.
He looked back up at Helen. His lips were dry and his complexion had gone a light shade of grey.
‘What are you going to do?’
Helen let out a loud laugh.
‘I’m going to have it, silly! What else?’
Theodore looked askance.
Helen looked over at the chapel to the side of the Infirmary; it was the first time she had noticed it.
‘I thought,’ she said airily, ‘that we could have – what do they call it these days? – joint custody of the child. Obviously you’ll have to pay maintenance … All these new words I’ve had to learn of late … And, of course, it’ll be very important that your new son or daughter gets to know his or her siblings. Especially little Theodore. I mean, they’re going to be practically the same age – just … what? Seven months between them?
‘I’m actually quite glad I didn’t end up telling Franny about your little dalliance while you were up north. Now that I think about it, it’s going to be so much better coming from your own mouth … And after telling Franny, you can tell Stanley and Tamara that they’ve got another little sibling on the way, and that although they won’t be able to see their little brother or sister every day, I’ll endeavour to come down as regularly as possible, so they all get to know each other.’
Helen’s face suddenly lit up.
‘You know what?! I can’t believe I haven’t thought about this until just now.’
Helen’s eyes widened.
‘Perhaps I can even move down here! Yes! Why didn’t I think of it before? I mean, it’s so much safer here for starters. No air raids. And it’s not as if I’ll have a job to go back to at Thompson’s once I’ve had this little one, so I’ll be free as a bird.’ Helen put her hand on her stomach and painted an angelic smile on her face.
Again Theodore looked around nervously.
‘Helen …’ he licked his thin, dry lips ‘… is there no other way around this?’
‘What? You don’t want to see your own child, Theo?’ Helen asked mockingly. ‘You don’t want your lovely children to know that they have a brother or sister?’
‘Please.’ Theodore looked as though he was about to drop to his knees and beg. ‘Please, can we not just keep this between ourselves?’
Helen looked down at her watch, then back up at Theo. Seeing him like this was at least some consolation.
‘Walk me to the gates,’ she commanded.
Theodore did as he was told and accompanied his former lover to the huge metal gates that opened out onto the Woodstock Road.
‘Theodore …’ Helen stopped walking ‘… I’m going to stop toying with you. As much as I have enjoyed seeing you suffer, I’m afraid I’ve got a train to catch.’
She turned to look at him directly.
‘I’m going to tell you something now and I want you to remember it for the rest of your miserable, two-faced existence on this earth.’
Theodore was staring at Helen.
Dare he hope?
‘I am going to have this baby.’ She spoke slowly and clearly and with the utmost seriousness. ‘And I’m going to bring this baby up – on my own.’
A pause.
Theodore let out an audible gasp.
There was hope!
‘You are never going to see the baby I have. Ever. Do you hear me?’
Helen glared at Theodore, who was nodding like a child.
‘When I walk away today,’ she continued, ‘that is going to be the last time you ever set eyes on me. Nor will you ever set eyes on the baby that I am carrying. If you make any attempt to contact me at any time in the future, I will tell Franny everything. And your worst nightmare really will become reality.’
Theodore felt as though the huge black cloud that had been threatening to engulf him had just moved on.
‘Do you understand?’ Helen daggered Theodore.
He nodded.
‘Say the words!’ Helen demanded.
‘Yes, I understand. I agree.’ Theodore couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
Helen looked at the man she had thought she loved, whom she had thought she would marry, and whom she now hated so much she was determined she would never again set eyes on him – and she turned and walked away.
As Helen strode back down St Giles’, part of her was gutted. She had not had the satisfaction of seeing all her carefully laid plans carried out, but she realised that she could never have told Franny about Theo, or about the baby she was carrying. She realised that although Theo might not have a conscience, she, in fact, did, and because of that she simply could not devastate Franny’s life or her children’s.
At least, Helen thought, as she hurried across Beaumont Street, she had gained some perverse joy from seeing the fear in Theodore’s eyes when he believed that she had told Franny – as well as the look of horror on his face when he realised that she was carrying his baby.
That would have to suffice.
Walking quickly back into the hotel, Helen looked at her watch. It had just gone ten o’clock. She felt a rush of adrenaline as she realised that if she hurried she could catch the ten-forty-five train back up north.
Striding up to the reception desk she informed them of her early departure and paid her bill. She practically ran up the stairs to her room and flung what few belongings she had into her vanity case. Not wanting to wait for a porter, Helen carried the case herself as she walked through the hotel lobby, jumping straight into a waiting taxi.
She was at the station just as the Birmingham-bound train was pulling into platform two. She might have to wait at New Street station for a connecting train up to Newcastle, and then take a rather tedious stop-start service on to Sunderland, but she didn’t mind. She just wanted to go.
Stepping on to the steaming train, Helen put her case in the overhead rack and sat down in the navy cushioned seat. It didn’t matter that she had come all this way and hadn’t really done what she’d set out to do. She had not exacted her revenge or destroyed Theo’s life. Yet something had happened to her during her fleeting visit. She wasn’t quite sure what, but it had made her feel happy.
Happier than she had been in a long time.
As the train pulled out of the station, Helen put her hand on her stomach and thought about the baby she was going to have.
She knew Theo would be relieved with the tra
de-off they’d just done, but she also did not want Theodore in her life or her unborn child’s.
It was, she had decided, her baby – like Gloria had said all those weeks ago.
‘It’s just you and me, little one,’ she said softly. ‘Just you and me. And you know what? We’re going to manage just fine on our own.’
Chapter Thirty
When Peter stepped out of the main entrance of Sunderland train station he stopped for a moment and looked around him, not quite believing he was there. Seeing a taxi, he strode towards it, but sensing someone behind him, turned to find a young, dark-haired woman carrying a vanity case.
‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Please …’ He went to open the passenger door of the taxi and smiled. He couldn’t help noticing how very pretty she was, although she also looked extremely tired.
‘Thank you,’ she said, placing her case on the back seat. ‘It’s been a long journey.’
‘It’s always nice to get home, isn’t it?’ Peter said.
‘Yes, it is.’ The woman spoke the words as if she really did mean them.
Peter shut the door and watched the black Austin pull away. He looked around to see if there were any other taxis about. There were none.
‘Damn it!’ he cursed under his breath.
Striding down Waterloo Place and turning right into Holmeside, he spotted a double-decker bus and started running. He jumped aboard just as it was pulling away.
Looking out the window as he passed the Maison Nouvelle, he saw Kate locking up and looked at his watch. It had just gone seven o’clock. At a push, he might catch Rosie before she left for Lily’s.
Getting off at Tunstall Road, Peter jogged down Valebrook Avenue and through the little wooden gate that heralded the start of Brookside Gardens, before finally reaching number 4.
Not wanting to shock Rosie by simply barging in, he knocked and counted to ten.
No answer.
If she was in, she would have come to the door by now, unless she was having a bath, or was out in the backyard.
Peter reached for his keys, adrenaline pumping around his body. His need to see Rosie, now he knew her to be so close, was overwhelming.
‘Peter! You’re back!’
Peter jumped as his neighbour flung open her front door. ‘Ah, Mrs Jenkins! How lovely to see you.’
Mrs Jenkins was just opening her mouth to speak when Peter beat her to it.
‘I’m sorry to be so rude, but I’m in a bit of a mad hurry. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Rosie this evening?’
‘You’ve just missed her, Peter – I heard her leave about ten minutes ago.’
‘That’s great. Thank you.’ Peter shoved his key back in his pocket. ‘Sorry, but I must dash.’
‘Yes, yes, of course … Oh … and congratulations, Peter – on getting married!’
Peter waved his thanks as he hurried back to the little five-bar gate.
He let it clash shut and started to run, hoping he might catch Rosie before she reached Lily’s.
When Peter turned into West Lawn he slowed to a walk, adjusted his tie and straightened the lapels of his overcoat. Crossing the road and making his way to the very grandiose Victorian house, he felt a little nervous. Rosie had never invited him to the bordello, or, indeed, introduced him to any of its inhabitants. He knew Kate, of course. Knew her from her past life on the streets, but had only met her properly twice since then – and both those occasions had been at the boutique.
Rosie had made it plain to him that she wanted to keep her two lives separate, and he had respected that. Tonight, though, she was going to have to make an exception. There was no way he was going to sit at home waiting patiently for her until she got back. Especially as he had only been given a twenty-four-hour pass.
Walking up the stone steps to the front door, he pressed the little brass doorbell. Within seconds he could hear the sound of footsteps and a sing-song voice shouting:
‘Je vais ouvrir la porte, mon cher!’
For a split second Peter thought he was back in France, before he remembered that Lily liked to speak French.
When the door opened it was hard to tell who was the most surprised.
The pair stood and simply looked at each other.
Lily’s appearance was even more outrageous than Peter had imagined. He had thought Rosie had been exaggerating when she had described her, but clearly not. If anything, she had played it down.
‘Bonsoir, madame,’ Peter said, taking off his trilby.
‘Quelle surprise!’ Lily replied, putting her hand out. Kate had described him to a tee.
As they shook hands Peter noticed the huge diamond engagement ring Lily was wearing. The woman was dripping with jewellery and smelled as though she had bathed in a tub of Chanel No 5. And as for the mass of orange hair piled on top of her head – well, he had simply never seen the like before.
‘I’m awfully sorry to have to call round unannounced—’ Peter started to say, but before he had time to finish his sentence, Lily had ushered him in.
‘We have a visitor! Detective Sergeant Miller!’ she announced to the entire household.
‘I’m guessing you’re here to see your wife?’ she asked, turning her attention back to Peter.
Before her unexpected guest had the chance to reply, Rosie came flying out of her office.
‘Peter!’
She ran to him and flung her arms around him.
On hearing that Peter was there – at the bordello – Maisie and Vivian almost fell over themselves in their rush to see him. Closely followed by George. They were just in time to see Peter and Rosie locked in each other’s arms, before the pair managed to pull themselves apart.
‘Peter!’ George pushed himself forward with his walking stick, his eagerness to introduce himself to the love of Rosie’s life more than evident.
He stuck out his hand.
‘Pleased to meet you! Very pleased indeed. I’m George!’ Peter’s face broke into a wide smile. He had hoped to meet George one day, although he had not thought it would be so soon, and so unexpectedly.
‘George! The pleasure’s all mine! I’ve heard all about you.’
George laughed.
‘Don’t believe a word of it!’ He let out a large guffaw. ‘It’s lovely to meet you at long last, Peter.’ Lily forced a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of our Rosie’s imagination.’ It didn’t escape Peter’s notice that Lily had stressed the word ‘our’.
‘Peter!’ It was Kate, squeezing through the front door, which was still slightly ajar. ‘You’re back!’ She put two skinny arms round him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘How wonderful! Oh, I’m so thrilled for you both!’ Kate clasped her hands together and looked at Rosie, who appeared flushed and beyond happy.
Lily cast her eyes over at Maisie and Vivian, who were loitering behind George. Seeing some of the other girls start to emerge from the back parlour, she scowled and shooed them back with her hand.
‘And this is Maisie,’ Lily said, stretching out her arm. ‘Head of our new Gentlemen’s Club – and Bel’s long-lost sister.’
A big smile broke out on Maisie’s face. This was the first time Lily had referred to her as the ‘head’ of the Gentlemen’s Club. She would hold her to that later.
Peter stepped forward and shook hands. He had seen Maisie before but only from afar; she was smaller and more slender than he recalled, but now he was seeing her up close he was struck by her exotic beauty – her light brown skin, the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and the most amazing hazel-coloured eyes.
‘And last but not least, this is Vivian,’ Lily said, finishing the introductions.
‘Fabulous to finally meet you.’ Vivian stepped forward and in true Mae West form held out her hand for Peter to kiss.
Peter smiled and obliged.
‘Perhaps you can meet the rest of the girls another time,’
Lily added.
&nbs
p; ‘Come and have a quick snifter, Peter!’ George said. George caught the look on Peter’s face and knew he was about to object.
‘Don’t worry, though, we’re going to boot you out in ten minutes,’ George chuckled. ‘I’m guessing you’re on leave and they’ve not been overgenerous with the length of that leave.’
Peter’s face relaxed and he smiled.
‘You’re right on both counts, George. I’ve got a twenty-four-hour pass – not a minute more.’
Peter looked at Rosie and squeezed her hand.
‘Come on then!’ George ushered everyone into the back kitchen. They all crowded around the kitchen table while Maisie and Vivian got the glasses from the armoire and George tipped a good measure of Rémy into each. Lily did the honours of handing everyone a drink, apart from Kate, who had got herself a tumbler of water from the tap.
‘A toast!’ George raised his glass and everyone followed suit. ‘To the happy couple! And their not so recent nuptials!’ ‘To the happy couple!’ everyone chorused.
As promised, ten minutes later George was ordering the newly-weds back out the front door.
‘Thank you, George.’ Peter leant in as the two men shook hands. ‘Thank you for everything.’
‘Just keep safe,’ George said quietly. ‘For this one’s sake.’ He nodded over to Rosie, who was already halfway down the steps.
When they were back out on the pavement and out of sight, Peter took Rosie in his arms and kissed her.
They stood and held each other tight – and kissed each other some more.
‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Rosie said as they started to walk. ‘Neither can I.’ Peter pulled her close.
‘Did you get the petals?’ he asked.
‘Oh, Peter, I did. I did indeed. I’ve been on cloud nine ever since.’
As they walked with their arms tightly wound round each other, they chatted away, stopping occasionally to kiss. It was as though no one else existed in the whole world.
The light started to filter through the blackout curtains at around a quarter to five and Rosie padded down the stairs to make tea. They had barely slept a wink, both wanting desperately to squeeze every last minute out of the too short time they had together.
