Triumph of the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  ‘“Den Lille Pige med Svovlstikkerne”.’ Helen repeated the title in its original language.

  Seeing the look of surprise on Georgina’s face, she explained, ‘For some reason my mother used to always refer to the story in Danish. The exact translation is actually “The Little Girl with the Matchsticks”.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Georgina said, before continuing. ‘Pearl apparently started in September 1913 – not long after she’d had her first daughter, Maisie, adopted. She worked mainly downstairs as a scullery maid, but did do a short stint as a housemaid the following Easter – and it was after this that she left.’

  ‘Why did she leave?’

  ‘Eddy had no idea. He said they simply got up one morning after Mrs Havelock had thrown a going-away party for your grandfather – as I’m sure you know he worked away a lot – and Pearl had gone. Disappeared.’

  ‘How strange. Why didn’t she tell anyone? Had she done something wrong? Did she steal anything?’

  ‘No, from what I can gather she had been a good worker. Had fitted in well with the other staff there. And Eddy made a point of telling me that she didn’t pilfer anything from the house before she did her midnight flit. Apparently, she even left her maid’s uniform that your grandmother had bought her. Eddy said that it was Henrietta’s gift to all her staff – their uniforms were theirs to keep. That was something that struck me as curious.’

  ‘Why was that?’ Helen asked.

  Realising Helen had no idea what it was like not to have any money, or clothes, Georgina explained, ‘Well, the uniform, which was really a dress with an apron over the top, was hers to take by right. She had earned it. But she didn’t take it, which I thought unusual because a young girl with barely two pennies to rub together would undoubtedly have taken it. If not to wear, then to sell.’

  Helen sat back and looked at Georgina, who she thought was becoming a little flustered.

  Georgina took a deep breath.

  ‘Bel was born nine months later in the east end.’

  She looked at Helen.

  ‘And?’

  ‘If you are certain that Bel looks and has the mannerisms of a Havelock, then the only person who could possibly be her father is Mr Havelock. Your grandfather.’

  Helen shook her head.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘That can’t be the case.’ She did a quick calculation in her head. ‘Grandfather must have been in his early fifties … and you say Pearl would have been, how old?’

  ‘Fifteen.’

  ‘Well, that’s just not possible.’

  Georgina didn’t say anything.

  They were both quiet for a while.

  ‘Of course, there is the chance that Bel’s similarity to the Havelock side of your family is simply a total fluke,’ Georgina said. ‘It could be that Pearl fell pregnant around that time to someone totally unrelated to the family.’

  ‘Of course, that’s always been a possibility,’ Helen said, her mind whirring. She kept thinking of her grandfather.

  Old.

  And Pearl.

  So young.

  No. It just wasn’t possible. Was it? Could a fifteen-year-old girl and a man who was old enough to be her grandfather fall in love and have an affair?

  ‘My advice,’ Georgina said, ‘would be to approach both parties and ask them outright if this might have been the case.’

  ‘What? Ask my grandfather if he got a fifteen-year-old girl pregnant when he was married to my grandmother?’ There was no anger in Helen’s voice, just simple incredulity.

  ‘Or you approach Bel and her mother and ask them?’ Georgina suggested.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Walking back onto High Street West, Helen was hit by a waft of hot air as one of the trams trundled past. She felt herself take in acrid air. Her chest felt tight. She hadn’t felt this kind of shortness of breath for quite a while.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologised as she accidentally bumped into a young woman and her little girl.

  She turned left and started walking down Fawcett Street. It was busy and she felt overwhelmed by people. Shoppers. More women and children.

  Turning left again into Athenaeum Street, she had an overwhelming urge to see John. He’d always been there for her. He was the only person she could talk to about what she had just found out. The only person she really wanted to talk to.

  She and her grandfather might not have been as close as they once were, especially after her miscarriage, but he had always been a prominent presence in her life. Knowing what she did now had left her feeling blindsided. Deceived. Her grandfather had always portrayed himself as such a good and righteous man. She had always looked up to him. Just like most of the townsfolk did who had benefited from his philanthropy. But it was now clear that the picture he had painted of himself was a fake. And the reality more than a little disturbing.

  Looking at her watch, she saw it had gone five. She turned right down Frederick Street. If she hurried, she might catch John before he started the evening shift. She’d probably catch him in the cafeteria. He liked to be there for the relatives and loved ones of what he called his ‘recruits’.

  Turning left into Borough Road, Helen thought of Gloria. And Hope. Her sister. Her illegitimate sister. A sister who had to be kept a secret. For the sake of the family name.

  She laughed aloud.

  For the sake of the family name!

  The bus took over half an hour to get to Ryhope.

  Knowing she was going to see John had calmed her. Her breathing had returned to normal. She no longer felt as though she couldn’t quite get enough air into her lungs.

  As she walked down the long pathway that led to the hospital entrance, Helen looked beyond the new emergency hospital and saw a glimpse of the Borough Asylum. Its imposing Gothic towers and red brickwork just about visible.

  The day was still hot, but there was now a cooling breeze coming in from the sea.

  Hurrying up the main stone steps, Helen thanked a soldier on crutches who was gallantly holding the door open for her.

  Hurrying along the main corridor towards the cafeteria, Helen crossed her fingers that John would be there, on his own, enjoying a cup of tea. As visiting time wasn’t until seven, and afternoon visiting had ended well over an hour ago, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be giving any informal consultations.

  Walking through the main doors, Helen scanned the tables. It was still busy, but it was a covering of doctors’ coats and nurses’ uniforms that dominated the scenery rather than the streetwear of ordinary folk.

  She stood for a moment, looking over the sea of white and blue. Her eyes searching for the man she realised – had realised for some time now – that she not only loved, but had fallen in love with.

  ‘John!’ she called out, overjoyed he was here and not in surgery or doing his rounds.

  She saw him turn his head as he heard his name called.

  She smiled.

  On reaching him, she felt an urge to bend over and kiss him, so glad was she at finding him here.

  ‘Helen,’ he said, standing up and giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘This is a surprise.’

  It took Helen a moment to realise that he wasn’t being quite his normal self.

  She followed his gaze to the other person sitting at the table.

  A woman.

  An attractive woman: tawny-coloured hair twisted into a French knot, high cheekbones, and full lips made even more sensual with a coating of natural lip gloss.

  ‘Come, take a seat,’ Dr Parker said, pulling a chair from one of the neighbouring tables.

  ‘And meet Claire … Dr Claire Eris.’

  Helen stood for a moment, staring at the woman sitting at the table with her legs crossed, wearing a smart brown tailored skirt and jacket.

  ‘Dr Eris,’ Helen said, forcing a smile and extending a hand.

  ‘Please, call me Claire,’ Dr Eris said, shaking hands. Her hold was firm. ‘So lovely to meet you, Helen. I’ve heard so
much about you.’

  ‘Likewise,’ Helen said, taking her seat. She was aware her tone was frosty. ‘Forgive me if I appear a little taken aback, but when John told me about you,’ she looked across at Dr Parker, ‘well, I just presumed you were a man.’

  Both women laughed.

  ‘Sorry, that didn’t come out right,’ Helen said, again glancing over at Dr Parker. ‘I had presumed, as you were a doctor – a psychologist – that you would be a man, which is terrible really, now that I hear myself saying it.’ She shook her head. ‘As if a woman can’t be a doctor – or a psychologist …’ Helen’s voice trailed off.

  ‘It’s perfectly understandable,’ Dr Eris said. ‘I get it all the time – from both sexes. I’m used to it. I suppose there aren’t that many doctors – or head doctors – who are women.’

  Both women forced smiles.

  ‘I suppose it must be the same for you?’ Dr Eris continued. ‘Being a yard manager. I’ll bet most people assume yard managers are always men?’

  Helen laughed; a little too loudly. ‘And they’d be right in doing so. I think I’m the only woman yard manager I know of. Certainly in the north-east.’

  ‘Quite a strike for the feminist movement then?’ Dr Eris said, widening her almond-shaped hazel eyes.

  Helen laughed. This time it was natural.

  ‘Well, if it is, it wasn’t intentional. I’ve spent most of my life in the shipyards. Thanks to my father.’

  ‘Helen, let me get you a cup of tea,’ Dr Parker butted in.

  ‘And I must go,’ Dr Eris said, looking at her watch. ‘I have a session with a particularly challenging patient over at the asylum in fifteen minutes. Female. Borderline schizophrenic. Or at least that’s what she’s been diagnosed with. I’m not so sure myself.’

  She stood up.

  ‘Lovely to meet you, Helen,’ she said as they shook hands once again.

  Helen couldn’t help glancing down to see her right hand was devoid of any kind of engagement or wedding ring.

  ‘And you too, Dr Eris – sorry, I mean Claire.’

  Dr Parker stood up again as Dr Eris said her goodbyes and left.

  Helen watched as she walked out of the café. She noticed her departure caused a few heads to turn. Male heads.

  ‘Won’t be a moment,’ Dr Parker said, weaving his way around tables to the counter and returning a few moments later with a clean cup and saucer.

  ‘Well, that was a turn-up for the books,’ Helen said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Dr Eris was a woman?’

  ‘I thought I had, to be honest,’ he said, pouring Helen’s tea from the pot in the middle of the table and adding milk.

  ‘No, you didn’t. I would have remembered,’ Helen said.

  ‘Well, if I didn’t, it wasn’t intentional,’ Dr Parker said, his tone sincere.

  He topped up his own cup.

  ‘Anyway, come on, tell me why you’ve suddenly turned up out of the blue.’ He took a quick sip of his tea. ‘Am I right in thinking this has to do with the meeting you’ve had with your Miss Marple?’

  Helen pushed back the feeling of irritation that Dr Eris had left in her wake.

  She took a deep breath as her mind swung back to her meeting with Georgina.

  ‘Oh, John,’ Helen exhaled. ‘It does … It does indeed.’

  For the next few minutes, Dr Parker listened.

  Nothing he heard surprised him. He had met Mr Havelock on a number of occasions and hadn’t liked the man one bit. Not that he had let that show, or had ever voiced his opinion. Mr Havelock was a very important man. Especially when it came to the town’s hospitals. He was, after all, one of the main benefactors. If not the main benefactor.

  ‘I just can’t comprehend my grandfather having an affair,’ Helen said, ‘let alone with a girl who was so young.’ She blew out air. ‘And then having a baby with her.’

  ‘I’m wondering if he knows that Pearl had his baby?’ Dr Parker said.

  ‘I know, I’ve been wondering that ever since Georgina dropped her bombshell.’

  Helen took a sip of her tea.

  ‘Honestly, John, my head feels like it’s spinning.’

  They sat in silence. Both thinking.

  ‘But, then again,’ Helen said, ‘you would have thought Pearl would have told Grandfather she was having his baby, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘If what Georgina says is true,’ Dr Parker mused, ‘it sounds as if she left under a bit of a cloud.’ He’d thought it odd that Pearl hadn’t taken her maid’s dress. Sometimes it was the small details that painted the bigger picture.

  ‘Yes, but even if they’d had a falling-out, you’d have thought that she would have gone and told him she was expecting. And that the baby was his. Even if it was simply to get some kind of maintenance?’

  Dr Parker nodded.

  ‘Unless he refused to accept the baby was his?’ Helen said. ‘Or he refused to pay for it.’ She thought about her grandfather’s attitude to the illegitimate baby she had been carrying. And to Hope. In his eyes they were ‘bastards’, and therefore less than insignificant.

  Dr Parker looked at Helen. ‘We have to consider that you might be barking up the wrong tree. That Pearl simply left your grandfather and your grandmother’s employ for some reason we’re not aware of – and that Bel’s father is someone completely different.’

  ‘I really, really wish that was the case,’ Helen said, sounding anything but hopeful.

  She pushed her cup of tea away.

  ‘But something tells me it’s not. To be honest, John, it makes me feel a little sick. Thinking of my granddad being so old and having an affair with someone so young.’

  Dr Parker looked at Helen and realised that her discomfort was purely because of the age gap – that she perceived the relationship as being an affair, and not that Pearl and her grandfather’s relationship could have been anything other than consensual.

  Despite being quite worldly, Helen could still be very naïve.

  Or perhaps it was he who was being too cynical? Perhaps Pearl and Mr Havelock had loved each other. Perhaps their love had transcended the thirty-five years that separated them.

  ‘The question now is …’ Dr Parker looked at Helen ‘… if your grandfather and Pearl did have an affair and Pearl had his baby – does Bel know that Mr Havelock is her father?’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe I never thought about that.’ Helen’s face dropped. ‘Pearl must have told her. She won’t have kept it from her, will she?’

  ‘Well, there’s only one way of finding out. You’re going to have to ask her.’

  When Dr Parker said his goodbyes to Helen and waved her off at the bus stop, he kept thinking about Mr Havelock. He’d seen him at charity dos and various events over the past few years and he’d noticed the way he looked at the younger nurses. He seemed to have a particular penchant for petite young girls with blonde hair. Similar to what Pearl must have looked like, judging by her purported similarity to the Little Match Girl.

  Seeing one of the drivers on his way home, Dr Parker thought about the long evening ahead.

  And he thought about Claire.

  She too was working this evening over at the asylum.

  As he made his way back to the hospital, his mind wandered to her reaction to meeting Helen.

  And to Helen’s reaction to meeting Claire.

  There’d definitely been a slight edginess between the two women.

  If he thought that Helen was secretly harbouring feelings for him, he might have perceived there to be a hint of jealousy.

  He scratched his head.

  Don’t be stupid!

  Helen had simply been surprised that Dr Eris was a woman.

  God, why was he still such a dreamer?

  He was pathetic – to even think there might be the remotest chance that Helen could possibly be jealous.

  Of course, she wasn’t jealous of Claire. Why should she be? Helen liked him – possibly even loved him – but as a friend.

&
nbsp; He had to stop being such a martyr to love. Stop playing the pathetic knight of old – chasing a love that could never be.

  As he walked back to the hospital he thought of Claire.

  Now, he didn’t believe he would be amiss in thinking that he had seen a little jealousy there.

  He’d got to know Claire quite well during these past four months. She had suggested a few times that they should go out for a drink.

  Perhaps it was time for him to move on? To leave his love for Helen behind.

  They would always be friends. But, like he had told himself a million times before, Helen’s heart belonged to another.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Two days later

  Saturday 15 May

  ‘So, tell me about this drumhead service you’re so determined to see?’ Rosie asked Charlotte as they made their snail-like ascent up Tunstall Vale. It was impossible to move forward with any kind of speed as it seemed as though every man, woman and child in the town had descended on Ashbrooke for the parade.

  ‘Well, it’s going to be massive,’ Charlotte said.

  ‘You’re not joking,’ Rosie mumbled.

  She tutted as she was jostled from behind.

  ‘Excuse me!’ She glared at the woman and her husband as they pushed past.

  ‘And it’s to celebrate,’ Charlotte continued, ‘the third anniversary of the formation of the anti-aircraft battery.’

  ‘Well, they’ve certainly had their work cut out of late,’ Rosie groused. ‘Come here,’ she said, grabbing her sister’s arm and tugging her onto the side of the road.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said as they managed to walk with only a minimal amount of pushing and shoving. Others had followed suit since there was barely any traffic, other than the occasional army truck. She looked up at the clear blue sky. At least they weren’t going to get wet.