by Nancy Revell
Gloria looked at the women and would have given anything to tell them that Helen really was not the devil incarnate they all thought she was, and that, like Theresa, she was pregnant and clearly suffering for it.
‘Mind you,’ Rosie said, sensing Gloria’s unrest, ‘she’s not been giving us any hassle lately, has she?’
‘Only because she knows she has to keep us sweet if she wants to hit a new tonnage record,’ Dorothy chipped in.
Gloria would have liked to have said that it had nothing to do with tonnage, and more to do with the fact that Helen didn’t want to be at loggerheads with the women any more. She would never admit it, but Gloria knew that Helen would give anything to have a group of friends like the women sitting here now.
‘Anyway, how’s the flat?’ Marie-Anne asked. She was fascinated by the fact that Dorothy and Angie had left home and got their own place.
‘We love it, don’t we, Ange?’ Dorothy turned to look at her best mate.
‘It’s brilliant!’ Angie said. ‘We can do whatever we want.’ ‘And your mams and dads were all right about it?’
Marie-Anne asked, curious.
‘Mine weren’t bothered,’ Dorothy said, ‘but Ange’s were a little more tricky, weren’t they?’
Angie nodded. ‘Aye, but they’re all reet now. I still pop ’n see them every week, take them some shopping ’n help them out with the kids for the evening. That seems to keep them happy.’
‘So,’ Dorothy said, looking around at her workmates and at Polly in particular, ‘I do believe it’s time for another trip to the flicks soon. And there’ll be no excuses this time. Everyone’s coming.’
‘Does Mr Havelock ever come to the yard?’ Bel asked Marie-Anne as they made their way back to the admin office.
‘Funny you should ask. He used to show his face every few weeks, but lately he’s not been here at all. Probably ’cos he’s getting on a bit now.’
‘And what about his daughter, Miriam?’
‘What? Helen’s mam?’
Bel nodded.
‘Actually, she’s not been in for a while either.’ She chuckled. ‘Thank God. If your lot think Helen’s bad, you want to meet her mother. She’s another kettle of fish altogether.’
Bloomin’ typical, Bel thought as they walked through the main door and up the stairs to the first floor. I start work here and they stop coming.
The klaxon sounded out the start of the shift just as she and Marie-Anne sat down at their desks.
Typing up a memo about overtime, Bel realised that her desperate need to get pregnant seemed to have been overtaken by her obsessive need to know more about her ‘other’ family.
She wasn’t sure which was worse.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
J. Risdon & Co, High Street West, Sunderland
‘Oh, this is rather lovely, isn’t it?’ The shop assistant looked at the little lemon-coloured romper suit Helen had just brought to the counter. ‘Would you like it gift-wrapped?’
Helen shook her head.
‘No, thank you. It’s not really a present as such.’
Helen realised she should have said yes. Now the assistant would wonder why she was buying clothes for a newborn if not as a present.
The salesgirl glanced up at Helen as she popped the baby suit in a brown paper bag. This particular customer had been in the shop before. She was gorgeous, a bit like that actress in Gone with the Wind, and if her memory served her right, the last time she’d been in she’d bought a lovely pink sun hat for her friend’s baby’s first birthday.
This purchase, though, was clearly not for a one-year-old. As Helen handed over her clothing ration book along with the exact amount of money the item cost, the young assistant noticed that the Vivien Leigh customer was not sporting a wedding ring – nor even an engagement ring.
As the bell tinkled over the door and Helen left the shop, the assistant made a private wager with herself that the baby suit the woman had just bought was, in fact, for her – and, judging by her choice, she would also guess that the woman was hoping for a girl.
As Helen walked back out onto the corner of John Street and High Street West, she had to stop for a moment and catch her breath. This past week she’d suffered from the odd bout of cramping pains, rather like the ones she got just before her monthlies. They hadn’t lasted long, though, and she’d put them down to the changes happening in her body. She was, after all, creating another life. She was going to feel something, wasn’t she?
The pain passed in a matter of seconds and Helen continued walking, holding the paper bag with her purchase in it close to her chest. She felt so excited.
She knew it was a little early to be buying clothes – some people were even superstitious about it – but she just couldn’t resist. Having been in there to buy Hope a little dress and then, more recently, the sun hat, she had fallen in love with the shop; it was a veritable Aladdin’s cave of babywear, toys, prams and cots.
As she turned left into Fawcett Street it suddenly occurred to Helen that, despite her recent mood swings, she was actually really happy.
‘John!’ Helen waved.
‘That’s a welcome to brighten anyone’s day!’ Dr Parker smiled as Helen reached him.
‘Oh, John, what a lovely day,’ Helen said, giving him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.
‘Yes, it is, but I’m still not happy about this being your treat.’ Dr Parker opened the heavy glass-fronted door of Meng’s café and restaurant.
‘Well, you’re going to have to remain unhappy as I’m not changing my mind. This is my way of saying thank you.’ She dropped her voice as the maître d’ showed them to a table for two in the far corner. ‘Although I think we both know,’ she said, taking her seat and putting her recent purchase on the tabletop, ‘that the reason we’re really here is because I just want to go somewhere nice – and I can’t go on my own.’
The maître d’ reappeared, handed them two menus and left.
‘It would, of course, help if I actually had friends I could go out with, but at least I’ve got one – you.’ Helen looked about the café, which was almost full. If they’d been any later they’d have struggled to get a seat.
‘Well, this friend,’ Dr Parker said, ‘is more than happy to oblige. I’ve always been curious about this place, but never had an excuse to come here.’
The maître d’ reappeared at the table and Helen ordered two scones and tea for two, which were brought to the table just minutes later.
‘So, what’s put you in such a particularly good mood?’ Dr Parker asked, looking across at Helen. She certainly appeared happy, though she did look a bit peaky.
‘Oh, I’ve been a bit naughty,’ Helen said, pushing the paper bag across the table, ‘and nipped into Risdon’s before I met you. I just couldn’t resist.’
Dr Parker took a peek in the bag and smiled.
‘So, you’re going to have a girl, are you?’ he chuckled. ‘That’s Gloria’s fault,’ she said, ‘she keeps saying she and her – she’s brainwashed me.’ Helen laughed. ‘Anyway, boys can wear yellow, can’t they?’
‘Mmm.’ Dr Parker took a mouthful of scone and savoured it.
‘So, how’s things at the hospital?’ Helen asked. She was genuinely interested in what happened up at the Ryhope.
‘Well, it’s been busy, as usual,’ Dr Parker said. ‘And we had our hands full the night of the air raid.’
‘Thank God they didn’t hit the hospital,’ Helen said. ‘That would have been even more disastrous.’ Dr Parker nodded. ‘I’m guessing they were aiming for Ryhope colliery.’
‘And the waterworks,’ Helen added.
‘Anyway, enough doom and gloom,’ Dr Parker said.
‘Tell me about your week. You still on target for your production record?’
Helen nodded enthusiastically, but as she took another bite of her scone her face suddenly creased up in pain.
‘You all right?’ Dr Parker asked, concerned, leaning over the table.
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br /> ‘Yes, I’m fine, honestly,’ Helen said, breathing out. ‘What just happened there?’ Dr Parker asked.
‘I think it must be the baby moving,’ Helen said.
Dr Parker doubted that what Helen had just felt was her baby. Certainly not something so severe.
‘How often have you been having these kinds of feelings?’ he asked.
‘Oh, not long, it’s just been this week, really,’ Helen said, taking a sip of her tea and then sitting back in her chair.
‘And your bad back? How’s that been?’ Dr Parker was struggling to keep the worry out of his voice.
‘Niggling. Actually, I was going to ask you if you had any suggestions. I’ve tried walking around more, not sitting at my desk as much, but it seems to be there most of the time now … But the good thing is,’ Helen said, brightening up, ‘I don’t feel sick any more.’ And as if to prove the point she took another bite out of her scone.
‘And,’ Helen lowered her voice, ‘the part of me that was feeling very tender,’ Helen glanced down at her ample bosom, ‘doesn’t any more. So that’s a relief. No more having to lie on my back when I go to sleep.’
Dr Parker looked at Helen. He would have liked to ask her more questions, but didn’t want to worry her. He would suggest when they left that she make an appointment with Dr Billingham for a check-up – just to be on the safe side.
‘So, what else has been happening this week?’ Dr Parker asked, not wanting Helen to sense his disquiet.
‘Well,’ Helen said, ‘I’ve made a start on converting the back bedroom into a nursery.’
Dr Parker looked surprised. ‘Bet you your mother’s going to love that!’
Helen gave her friend a mischievous look and proceeded to tell him the events of the previous night. Dr Parker listened. Helen’s mother had a lot to answer for and deserved everything Helen wanted to chuck at her, and more.
When the waitress came to clear their plates, Helen ordered another pot of tea and they continued to chat. As the conversation started to turn back to the latest war news, Dr Parker again noticed that Helen really was very pale. Was it the light? Or had she become even paler since they’d been in here?
‘Sorry, John,’ Helen said after a while. ‘Excuse me for a moment while I go and powder my nose.’
Dr Parker watched as Helen manoeuvred her way around half a dozen tables. At one stage she appeared to grab one to steady herself.
He watched with growing unease when she stopped for a second, took a deep breath and walked on.
Something wasn’t right.
As soon as Helen stood up she felt dizzy. She’d suddenly had the urge to go to the toilet and had put it down to the second pot of tea they had ordered. When she started walking, she saw stars and had to steady herself with the back of an empty chair.
As she continued walking she was hit by the most excruciating pain in her stomach. It was as though an iron fist had decided to grab her insides and not let go. It took all she could muster not to double up and make a spectacle of herself.
She stood and took a deep breath before making it the rest of the way to the ladies.
If anyone had passed her, they would have seen her face was scrunched up in pure agony.
Once she was through the toilet door she breathed a sigh of relief that it was empty.
Staggering to the mirror and looking at her reflection, she saw she’d gone a milky shade of white and her forehead was covered in small spots of perspiration.
She groaned out loud as the iron fist inside of her seemed to twist its hold. This time she had no choice but to double over.
Stumbling the few steps to the cubicle, she pushed open the door, stepped inside and closed it behind her, pulling the lock across to show the engaged sign.
As she did so, she felt something tickling her leg.
She swatted her calf, thinking it was a fly, but was surprised when she felt something wet. Turning her palm upwards, she was shocked to see that her hand was streaked with red.
Looking down, she saw blood, and another claret rivulet making its way down her other leg.
A wave of nausea was followed by another contraction of excruciating pain.
Panicking, Helen pulled up her skirt.
There was blood everywhere.
Her vision went misty.
And then she saw stars again.
Suddenly her legs felt so weak; too weak to stand.
Her whole body seemed to waver for a moment, like a building just after it’s been hit by a bulldozer’s swinging steel ball, standing defiant for the briefest of moments before being reduced to a cloud of debris and brick dust.
Just so, Helen felt blindsided by an invisible force.
Her whole world seemed to stop still for a second –
before her knees went, and she collapsed into a heap on the tiled floor.
As gravity did its work, her head hit the side of the patterned porcelain toilet bowl and her vision changed from blurred to black.
Dr Parker looked at his watch.
Helen had now been gone a good five minutes. It seemed a long time to be in the ladies.
He shuffled uneasily on his seat.
Helen hadn’t taken her handbag, so it wasn’t as if she would be touching up her make-up.
Something wasn’t right.
Now he was thinking about it, he’d actually felt something was amiss the moment he’d set eyes on her.
‘Excuse me.’ Dr Parker reached out to touch the arm of the maître d’ who was just walking past him. ‘This is an odd request, but I’d like to go and check on my companion, who hasn’t re-emerged from the ladies. I’m a doctor,’ he added by way of reassurance, ‘at the Ryhope.’
The maître d’ gave a curt nod of his head.
Not wasting any time, Dr Parker charged over to the washroom.
‘Hello! Helen!’ He knocked loudly, waited for a second, but when he didn’t hear a response, opened the door and stepped into the large, rather plush ladies’ toilets.
He scanned the room before seeing Helen’s arm splayed out on the ceramic floor. Her black hair was just visible through the gap under the cubicle.
Dr Parker shoved the door but it wouldn’t budge.
‘Helen!’ he shouted out, hoping to see movement, or at least to elicit a reaction, even a groan, but there was nothing. Just silence.
Dr Parker took a step back before throwing his whole weight at the door.
It did the trick and the door banged open, revealing Helen’s lifeless body lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
Dr Parker immediately crouched down and checked her pulse before putting his ear to her mouth.
Thank God she was breathing, although her pulse felt weak. He moved her head gently, inspecting it for damage.
There was a gash above her eyebrow.
Dr Parker stood up and clattered his way out of the cubicle and towards the main door that led out to the café. As soon as he opened it, he saw the maître d’ standing there.
‘Ambulance!’ Dr Parker commanded. ‘Call an ambulance! Tell them it’s an emergency!’
The maître d’ didn’t need telling twice.
Dr Parker swung round and strode back over to Helen, who was now making slightly woozy noises.
Crouching back down next to her, he checked her pulse again.
‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered under his breath.
Chapter Forty
Dr Parker straightened Helen’s body out on the floor, before pulling her legs up and bending her knees.
Wrestling his jacket off, he covered her body, all the time alternating between checking her pulse and inspecting her for any other injuries.
He was fairly sure that Helen had hit her head on the side of the toilet bowl, as he could see a slight smear of red blood contrasted against the blue motif.
This, however, wasn’t his main concern.
It was clear that Helen was haemorrhaging – heavily. The amount of blood suggested not only that she was in the
process of losing her baby, but that the bleeding was not slowing down. It had to be stopped, and quickly. And the only way that could be done was by getting her to hospital and into theatre as soon as possible.
Hearing the sirens of the ambulance, Dr Parker breathed a little easier.
Two minutes later two paramedics burst into the ladies. Thankfully, they’d come armed with a stretcher.
Between the three of them, they carefully lifted Helen on to the gurney while Dr Parker briefed them – informing them that he was a doctor, that the woman in their care was concussed, and that she was haemorrhaging internally.
They didn’t need to be told where the bleeding was coming from.
Helen could vaguely remember hearing John’s voice barking instructions at the two men in what looked like army uniforms.
The next memory she had was lying on the stretcher and turning her head to the side to see the table where she and John had been enjoying their tea and scones.
Catching sight of the brown paper bag still on the table, she flung her arm out, but it was no good, she couldn’t reach it.
Her next hazy recollection was of being in the ambulance with John next to her. She thought he was holding her hand until she realised he was checking her pulse. He was speaking to her, but she couldn’t really make out what he was saying.
She could hear the sirens and see flashes of blue in the corner of her eye.
It felt as though they were travelling down a bumpy road until she realised it was her own body that was shuddering and bouncing up and down on the stretcher.
Her teeth were also chattering.
She tried to stop herself from shaking, to unclench her jaw, but she couldn’t.
She felt so cold.
So very cold.
Then she couldn’t see the blue flashes any more – and once again the darkness came.
Arriving at the Royal, Dr Parker asked the nurse who had come out to greet them which surgeons were on duty.
On hearing Dr Billingham’s name, he said a silent prayer of thanks and told the nurse to go and get him and to tell him that Dr Parker was taking a patient down to theatre and to meet him there.
