by Nancy Revell
‘Oh John, it is,’ she lied. ‘It really is.’ Helen lit a cigarette and blew out smoke to the ceiling. She swallowed back angry tears and forced a smile on her face.
‘So, tell me, I’m dying of curiosity – what is the “emergency”?’ John asked.
‘It’s Peter. He’s alive!’ Helen declared. Tears stung her eyes, causing her vision to blur slightly. She didn’t stop them – couldn’t stop them – but knew at least they would be construed as tears of happiness.
‘Good God!’ Dr Parker said, automatically grabbing Helen’s hand. ‘This is incredible news!’
Helen stubbed out her barely smoked cigarette and put her hand on top of the hand of the man she loved. She held it firmly, enjoying his touch.
‘He got trapped under a bombed building,’ Helen said, knowing this would be John’s next question.
‘And he wasn’t injured?’
Helen smiled.
‘No, by all accounts he came out of it pretty much unscathed, although the details are sketchy.’
‘This is brilliant news. I’ll bet you Rosie doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going.’ Dr Parker had known of a few cases of wives and girlfriends who had believed the men they loved had been killed in action, only to receive a second telegram telling them otherwise. It was not an uncommon phenomenon of war.
‘Well,’ Helen let out a slightly strangled laugh, ‘she’s definitely going.’ She smiled, looking into Dr Parker’s brown eyes. ‘Going all the way to London to meet him today!’
‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books,’ Dr Parker said, holding Helen’s gaze. God, he could look into those emerald eyes until kingdom come. ‘I’ll bet you she’s walking on air.’
‘She was definitely floating when she came to tell me,’ Helen smiled. This time her happiness was genuine as she recalled Rosie’s face. It had been such a mix of emotions – euphoria, disbelief, shock and sheer joy.
Dr Parker looked down at Helen’s hand, which was still clamped over his own.
‘And it’s lovely that you came to tell me in person,’ he said. ‘It’s wonderful to hear some good news for a change. Really bolsters one up.’
They were quiet for a moment.
‘It must be a wonderful feeling,’ Helen said, unusually wistful. ‘Knowing he’s alive and that she’s now going to be spending the rest of her life with him.’
‘Yes, yes, it must be,’ John agreed, looking at Helen and thinking she seemed to be momentarily lost in another world. Was she thinking of her own life and how she too would love to spend the rest of it with someone she loved? Could that other person possibly be him?
Dr Parker looked at Helen, a furrow on his brow.
‘Was there anything else you came to tell me?’ he asked, shifting on his chair. ‘Odd question, I know. I just feel as though there’s something you’re not saying?’
Oh John, if only you knew.
‘You can read me like a book,’ she said, still holding his hand. ‘I did come here to tell you something else …’
Dr Parker’s heart lifted.
‘When I heard about Peter, I kept thinking of you … kept thinking how lucky I am to have you in my life,’ Helen said, forcing a smile. ‘So lucky to have you in my life that I just wanted to tell you.’
Dr Parker looked at Helen. He still sensed she wanted to say more but couldn’t for some reason.
‘Are you sure that was all?’ Dr Parker queried.
Helen released his hand and sat back.
‘Dear me, we’ve not had our tea. It’ll be cold.’ She put her hand round the brown ceramic teapot. ‘Still warm.’ She started to pour.
‘Helen,’ Dr Parker said, his face deadly serious, ‘I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I think there’s something else you came here to tell me, but for some reason you have decided to hold back.’
Helen put the pot down on the table.
Dr Parker leant forward so that both his elbows were on the tabletop. ‘So, I’m going to take the reins and ask you something that I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.’
‘Since Pearl’s wedding day?’ Helen asked.
Dr Parker nodded.
‘Do you know what I’m going to ask?’
‘I think so,’ Helen said, ‘but ask me anyway.’ She needed to hear it from John’s own mouth. No matter that it was all too late.
Dr Parker cleared his throat. ‘I know how much you value me as a friend, but would you ever consider me as more than a friend?’ He expelled air. There, he had said it.
Helen paused for a moment.
‘Would you consider me as more than a friend?’ She batted the question back. She needed to hear him say it.
‘Yes,’ Dr Parker said, without hesitation. ‘Very much so.’
Helen yearned to lean across and kiss him, to touch his face, his skin, his body. To show him her answer. To make love to him. But, of course, she couldn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath. This was the hardest thing she had ever had to say in her life.
‘That is so lovely to hear, John. Really it is.’ You have no idea. ‘It is such a huge compliment.’ She swallowed hard. ‘But I’m afraid we can only be friends … just friends … and nothing more,’ she said, sitting back.
Dr Parker looked into Helen’s green eyes. Could she see the devastation her words had wrought in him? Well, if she could, he didn’t care.
‘I don’t understand?’ He had thought she was going to say yes – that his feelings for her were requited. ‘Why? Why can’t we be more than friends?’
‘Don’t ask me why – please,’ Helen said, once again taking hold of his hands.
There was a moment’s silence.
‘I just don’t understand,’ Dr Parker murmured, genuinely perplexed. ‘Why can’t you tell me?’
‘I’m sorry, John. So sorry.’ Helen looked into his eyes, pleading with him not to push her any further. ‘I can’t say any more than I have already. You just have to trust me. And believe me. There can be no future for the two of us.’
Dr Parker shook his head to show his confusion. His disbelief.
‘But …’ she squeezed his hands, desperate for him to know the inner joy his words of love had brought her ‘… I want you to know that I love you. I really do love you.’
Dr Parker looked into Helen’s eyes. They seemed so sad – or were they simply reflecting his own desolation? ‘And I really do love you too, Helen.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But I have to ask you, otherwise it will always plague me – it’s not because of your past, is it? Because you know I don’t care about what anyone has done in their past, or what might have happened to someone, don’t you?’ He didn’t need to talk specifics.
‘Oh, John, I do. I really do. And knowing that makes me love you all the more.’ Helen let out a sad, soft laugh. ‘But I can’t love you in the way you want. I just can’t. I’m sorry. So sorry.’
Dr Parker took another deep breath, as though he were about to say something else – argue the case for their love. For the possibility that Helen could love him in the way he wanted. He was sure of it. But she had said the words. He had to accept what she’d told him. Didn’t he? Even if he didn’t believe she was being truly honest – either with him, or with herself.
‘If you need time, I can wait,’ Dr Parker said, trying his hardest to get to the truth; trying hard not to sound as desperate as he felt.
‘No, don’t wait, please,’ Helen said, suddenly terrified that Claire might carry out her threat. John had to understand the situation was hopeless. Which, in truth, it was.
‘I don’t need time. I know,’ she said.
Dr Parker felt his body wilt. He knew he couldn’t push any more.
‘I love you, Helen,’ he said in place of an argument. ‘I’ve always loved you and always will. Regardless.’ He looked once more into those emerald eyes, glistening with the beginnings of tears. ‘And I’ll always be here for you.’
Helen smiled, desperately forcing back the surge of emotion
that threatened to weaken her resolve. ‘And the same goes for me, too. I’ll always be here for you. And I will always love you …’ she paused ‘… even if it might not look that way.’
When Helen walked out of the main entrance of the hospital and got back into her car, she put the key into the ignition but didn’t turn it.
Dr Eris might well have her in her grip – one that she saw no way of freeing herself from – but John loved her.
He loved her.
She would revel in that thought – in that feeling – for today.
Tomorrow was another day.
Chapter Forty-Six
‘Charlie! Charlie!’ Rosie shouted as soon as she spotted her sister coming out of school.
Seeing Charlotte look around, she waved frantically.
‘What’s wrong?’ Charlotte’s face was serious.
‘It’s Peter,’ Rosie said, grabbing her arm and pulling her gently away from the rest of the girls spilling out onto Mowbray Road.
‘Peter?’ Charlotte was confused.
Rosie stopped walking and took hold of her sister’s arms and squeezed them. ‘Oh, Charlie – he’s alive! Peter’s alive!’
For a moment it went through Charlotte’s mind that her sister might have lost the plot and become delusional.
‘Really?’ she asked, unsure. ‘He’s not dead?’
‘No! He’s not dead,’ Rosie said. ‘I know, it’s unbelievable,’ she said, grabbing Charlotte’s arm again and tugging her towards Ryhope Road. ‘But he’s alive. Toby’s just been to see me. Said they’d just got news through that he’s alive.’
As soon as Charlotte heard that Toby had brought the news, she knew this was for real.
‘Oh my God!’ she said, sounding like Dorothy. ‘That’s amazing!’ She stopped and wrapped her arms around her big sister. She squeezed her with all her might.
‘I’m so pleased for you,’ she said, tears pricking her eyes. She looked at Rosie and saw that she was also overcome with emotion, and that judging by the smudges on her face and her bloodshot eyes, she had already shed a fair few tears.
‘The thing is,’ Rosie explained as they waited for a tram to pass before hurrying across the road, ‘he’s flying back now.’
‘What? Now?’
Rosie laughed. ‘Yes, now. As we speak.’
Passing Christ Church, they continued walking down Mowbray Road.
‘So, you’re going to meet him?’ Charlotte asked.
‘I am, but it means I’m going to be away for at least a night. I’m due to catch the train in an hour.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Which means leaving you on your own.’
‘That’s all right,’ Charlotte said. ‘I can go and stay with Lily and George.’
Rosie looked at her sister and laughed.
‘Never one to miss an opportunity,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘Well, you can’t leave me on my own at home, can you? You know how much I detest being alone,’ Charlotte said, poker-faced.
‘Which is exactly what I thought you’d say,’ Rosie said as they turned left into West Lawn, ‘so I popped in to see Lily before I came to get you. She says she’d love to have you for however long I’m away.’
‘Yeah!’ Charlotte jumped up and stuck her hands in the air. She grabbed hold of her sister and gave her another hug.
‘Thanks, Rosie, you’re the best!’
When they walked through the door at Lily’s, everyone was there to greet them: Lily, George, Kate, Maisie, Vivian, all beaming from ear to ear.
Twenty minutes ago, when Rosie had come through the door, breathless and bursting with joy to tell them the good news, Lily had hugged her tightly. Never before had she felt so relieved and thankful, for she had worried that Peter’s death would be one blow too many for Rosie to bear.
Lily had told Rosie she was shutting up shop, so there was no reason Charlotte could not stay while Rosie was off being reunited with her husband. The second Rosie had left, Lily had gone to tell George the news before sweeping round the bordello, banging on all the bedroom doors, telling everyone that there was an emergency and they all had to be up, dressed and out the back door within five minutes. The clients might have thought they were about to be raided, were it not for Lily’s high spirits. The girls were happy to leave as Lily had promised to reimburse them the night’s earnings, and she had also told them as they had scuttled out the back that they were to take at least two days’ paid holiday.
During the time it took for Rosie to go and pick up Charlotte, Lily had transformed the house from a den of iniquity to a perfectly innocent family home, all the while having the almightiest of hot flushes.
‘Ma chère!’ Lily enveloped Rosie in her arms once again, winking at an ecstatic-looking Charlotte by her side.
As soon as Lily released Rosie from her grip, Kate stepped in and flung her arms around her beloved friend. ‘Oh Rosie, we are so, so happy for you.’ It felt only right, in Kate’s eyes, that Rosie had been given back her lover.
‘As are we,’ Vivian said, her tone sincere. Rosie had taken Vivian under her wing when she had first arrived at the bordello as poor and as plain as a church mouse. She’d brought her out of her shell and looked out for her, something no one had ever done before. She took hold of Rosie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘And don’t feel like you have to hurry back. Enjoy every minute with that man of yours.’ She winked at Rosie, knowing not to say more in front of Charlotte.
‘Don’t worry about Charlie,’ Maisie said, putting her arm out and pulling Rosie’s little sister close. ‘We’ll make sure she behaves herself, won’t we?’ She looked at Charlotte, who was nodding and grinning.
‘Righty-ho!’ George said, putting on his trilby. ‘We better get you to that station. Don’t want you to miss your train, do we? Don’t want to keep that husband of yours waiting, eh?’
Rosie smiled. Just talking about Peter in the present tense gave her a feeling of elation.
As she grabbed her overnight bag and gas mask, which she had left at the door before going to fetch Charlotte, she turned to leave.
‘Thanks, everyone,’ she said. She wanted to say more but didn’t trust herself. ‘Thanks – for everything.’
She hurried down the steps and towards George’s red MG. He was waiting with the passenger door open.
‘Your carriage awaits.’
Waving Rosie off in the car, Lily turned to Charlotte. She couldn’t wait to spoil her rotten. ‘Sod the waistline, we’re going to have a feast of fish and chips, and, ma chérie,’ she said, gently pinching Charlotte’s cheek, ‘you can have as many mugs of hot chocolate as you want.’
They all made their way into the kitchen.
‘And we’re going to spend the entire evening talking all things français,’ she said. ‘D’accord?’
‘Vraiment,’ Charlotte answered.
‘And when George returns,’ Lily looked at Maisie and Vivian, ‘I shall get him to raid the cellar and we shall toast Peter with a glass or two of our finest champagne.’
It would be a toast not only to Peter but also to Rosie, for it was not just Peter who had been given back his life.
‘We’ll see you when you both get home!’ George shouted after Rosie as she hurried to the entrance to the railway station.
Turning round, Rosie beamed back a smile. She waved and was then swallowed up by the throng of fellow travellers. She caught a glimpse of a newspaper. The headline declared that de Gaulle had arrived in France. The French were getting back their leader and she was getting back her man. As she made her way down the wooden steps and onto the platform, Rosie forced herself to take deep breaths. She put her overnight bag down on the ground and saw that her hands were shaking. Since Toby had told her the news, it had felt as if her heart was going to explode with a cocktail of excitement, relief and pure joy.
Breathe, Rosie, breathe, she told herself.
Looking at the railway tracks, she saw a rat scurrying around, foraging for food.
Rats ha
d never bothered her or scared her. She’d seen enough of them at work. They were just trying to survive like everyone else. She felt a gusty breeze and knew that meant the train was approaching. She looked again at the railway tracks. How life could change in the blink of an eye. Just three hours ago, if she had been standing here, she would have had to fight the urge to fling herself in front of the train that was about to come steaming into the station. Now she had never felt so happy in her life – and she would feel happier still when she saw Peter walking towards her.
She heard the train before it appeared through the darkness of the underground tunnel. The brakes squealed and she squinted as the dust and dirt that had been kicked up by its arrival swirled in the air. As the steam filled the platform, the doors to the carriages were thrown open and Rosie climbed aboard and found her seat.
Sitting down by the window in the first-class carriage, she realised that her dream had come true twice over. She was not only going to have the family she had always wanted, with herself, Peter and Charlotte living at Brookside Gardens, but she also had an extended family in the women at work and the people who had just waved her off at the bordello.
At that moment in time she felt like the luckiest woman alive.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Peter looked down at the English Channel from the small passenger window of the Airspeed AS.5 Courier in which he was flying. Although the single-engine light aircraft had room for six, today there was only himself and the two RAF pilots. As the plane pitched up slightly, his eyes were drawn to the skies above. He saw a flurry of perfect white clouds and thought back to how, as a child, he had firmly believed that heaven was on the other side of those clouds and that if he were able to fly high, he’d be able to snatch a sneak preview.
While he’d been trapped under the ruins of the building in Sainte-Mère-Église, he had wondered, as he drifted in and out of consciousness, if he had in fact died and was languishing in limbo while the powers that be judged if he was worthy enough to pass through St Peter’s pearly gates. Acting as judge and jury on his own life, Peter had lain there, with barely enough space to move his arms and legs, and had thought about the life he had led. Sitting here, strapped into a plane on his way back home – alive – he surmised that the celestial jury must have ruled in his favour.
