by Nancy Revell
Kate had wanted to hear the vicar speak and so Alfie had accompanied her to a spot in the spectator stands where she could catch what was being said. Lily had suggested the spot so as to keep an eye on them both. Or rather, on Alfie. There were only a handful of men that Lily trusted and as yet, Alfie was not one of them.
‘So, the latest news from France is positive,’ George said, taking a sip of tea.
‘Really?’ Rosie asked, her attention focused on George, unaware that Charlotte was being uncannily quiet and well behaved.
‘The major strands of the Resistance movement have been pulled together to form the Conseil Nationale de la Résistance.’
Everyone automatically looked at Charlotte for a translation.
‘What’s that?’ Charlotte asked, looking as though she had just been snapped out of a trance.
‘The Conseil Nationale de la Résistance,’ George said, glancing at Lily and seeing that she too clearly thought that something was awry.
‘The Conseil Nationale de la Résistance means the National Council of the Resistance,’ Charlotte said.
‘Which means?’ Rosie asked, looking at George.
‘It means that finally the illusion that Pétain or another Vichy general might rise to challenge German domination has faded. Those heading up the Resistance have decided that it is only through de Gaulle and the help of the Allies that intelligence-gathering operations and paramilitary groups in France can be utilised more effectively if they are all working together.’
‘In other words, the French have realised what side their bread is buttered and have put all their eggs into one basket to fight the Germans.’ Lily got out her fan, snapped it open and started to fan herself. ‘I do love the French, but, mon Dieu, they can be a little frustrating and slow off the mark. I mean, it’s only taken them three years of occupation and abuse of their men, women and children to come to this conclusion.’
All of a sudden, Charlotte scraped back her chair and got up.
‘You all right, ma petite?’ Lily asked. ‘You’ve lost all your colour.’
‘I’m fine,’ Charlotte said, not looking Lily, George or Rosie in the eye. ‘I just need to use the loo.’
She hurried off.
‘Rosie, go and see what ails the poor girl,’ Lily commanded. ‘Something’s wrong. Very wrong.’
Rosie looked at Lily and George. Their faces showed their concern.
She got up quickly and followed her sister to the toilets.
Chapter Fifty-One
Helen went over and over in her head the best way to do this.
It would be pointless going to her grandfather as there was no guarantee that he would know the truth either. Pearl might not have told him. Or, if he was Bel’s father and he knew that he was, there was a good chance he would deny it. After all, he wasn’t going to be keen on admitting he had fathered an illegitimate child, especially when his wife had still been alive.
If he had nothing to do with Bel’s paternity, Helen would have insulted her grandfather, but more than anything would have made herself look rather ludicrous.
John was right. The only way she would find out was by asking Pearl. She was the only one who had the answer.
God! She was going doolally thinking about all the possible actions and outcomes. She felt as though she was going round and round in circles, like the tiger that turned into butter. Her mind felt as though it too would melt if she thought much more about what to do.
She just had to do it and see what happened.
She had to speak to Pearl, and needed Bel to be there as well.
It was important to catch them unprepared – she’d know by their reactions if they were telling the truth.
Helen looked at her watch. It had gone six.
Picking up her bag, she got out her compact and checked herself in the mirror. She looked fine. Perhaps a little nervous. She shut her bag, picked up her gas mask and walked out of her office.
Twenty minutes later she was walking down Tatham Street, a road that had taken on great significance in her life this past year. She’d nearly died on this road, buried in a mound of rubble. She had helped save two lives, and in doing so had also gained the friendship of the women welders – or at least their forgiveness.
After waiting for a tram to trundle past, Helen hurried across the road. She saw a group of raggedy-looking children playing marbles outside one of the houses. The front door was open and Helen could smell what she guessed was some kind of stew.
Reaching the Tatham Arms, she stopped. Even this pub had become a part of her recent history. She’d been here for Arthur’s wake, had said goodbye to the old man and a few hours later had welcomed in the New Year – and accepted that her feelings for John were far from chaste.
She pushed away thoughts of John.
They were for another time.
Today, this evening, was about family. Or not. Whatever the case might be.
Pushing open the door to the pub, Helen took a few steps into the main hallway. It had been her intention to simply pop her head around the door to see if Pearl was working. It would give her a heads-up on what to expect when she went round to number 34. She was about to open the inner door that led to the main bar when she heard Pearl’s distinctive cackle of laughter, followed by a robust bout of coughing. She took her hand off the doorknob and turned to walk back down the hallway.
First step taken.
She had ascertained Pearl’s whereabouts.
Now for Bel.
Two minutes later she’d crossed the road and was standing outside the Elliots’ front door. Like most of the front doors in the street, it was open.
‘Cooee! Hello! Anyone home?’ Helen tried to sound casual yet confident. Not like the fish out of water she felt she was.
She saw Lucille appear at the bottom of the hallway and stare at Helen before quickly disappearing back into the kitchen.
‘Who is it, pet?’ Agnes’s voice could be heard before she became visible.
Forcing a smile on her face, Helen gave a little wave.
‘It’s only me,’ she said, a little self-consciously. ‘Sorry to disturb.’
‘Come in, Helen.’ Agnes beckoned her into the hubbub of the Elliot household. ‘We’ve just had our tea. You’ve missed Polly, though, she’s nipped next door to see Beryl about an old Moses basket she’s got stashed away somewhere.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, tell her I said hello,’ Helen said, showing Agnes that it was not Polly their impromptu guest had come to see.
‘Helen!’ Bel stopped clearing the table of plates and cutlery. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Helen reassured.
‘Hope all right?’ Agnes asked. She was now in the scullery, filling the sink ready to do the washing-up.
‘Yes, she’s fine,’ Helen said, looking at Joe and Lucille. There was a look of slight concern on Joe’s face.
She felt something tickle her calves and looked down to see that Tramp and Pup were at her feet.
‘And Gloria?’ Bel asked.
‘Yes, she’s fine too,’ Helen said. She now felt awkward. Everyone was looking at her. She had only ever turned up unannounced at the house once before and that had been the day after the bombing to drop off Hope.
‘Pol’s just nipped next door,’ Bel said.
‘Actually, it’s you I’ve come to see.’ Helen tried to keep her voice light. ‘I wondered if perhaps you might like to come for a drink with me?’
Everyone looked at Helen as though she had just grown two heads.
‘Well, yes, that’d be nice. Let me just wash my hands,’ Bel said, heading off into the scullery. Agnes moved out of the way so she could get to the sink. She gave Bel a quick, questioning look, which her daughter-in-law returned with an equally perplexed one.
As Bel scrubbed her hands clean, she could hear Joe asking Helen about the yard.
‘Right, let’s go,’ she said, drying her hands as she came back into the kitchen. She put
the towel down on the kitchen table and gave Joe a quick kiss on the lips before cupping her hands around her daughter’s little cherub face and planting a kiss on her forehead. ‘You be good for Daddy while Mammy’s out?’
Lucille nodded her head vigorously.
Agnes followed them both down the hallway.
‘Helen,’ she said, as the two women stepped out onto the pavement, ‘thank you for all yer help with Polly ’n the bab. That Dr Billingham has been an absolute godsend.’
Helen smiled. ‘It’s the least I could do. For Polly. And Tommy. And Arthur, of course.’
Agnes smiled at the mention of the old man. He still felt near.
‘I hope you don’t mind me just turning up like this,’ Helen said while they both hurried across the road as an army truck headed into town.
‘I wouldn’t normally have come unannounced …’ They reached the other side, and waited for a woman pushing a pram to pass. Helen looked at Bel and thought she caught a look of longing on her face. She knew that feeling. Had experienced it herself for a while after her miscarriage.
‘I don’t mind at all,’ Bel said, her face brightening as she looked back at Helen. ‘I’m partly intrigued,’ she said, opening the door to the Tatham. ‘And partly glad to be dragged out on a Saturday night.’
‘Next time, I’ll drag you somewhere a little more upmarket,’ Helen said, checking herself and adding, ‘Not that I’m saying there’s anything wrong with this pub.’
They both walked down the hallway and went through into the main bar.
‘I’ll get the drinks in,’ Helen said. ‘Port and lemon?’
Bel nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
Looking over to the bar, Bel saw her ma and Bill chatting away to Ronald and a few of the other locals. Geraldine, the other barmaid, was serving customers further down the bar.
Bel went to sit at one of the tables by the window. Her mind was working overtime. If Helen had wanted to chat to her about work, she would have done it at the yard. Perhaps it was something to do with Polly? The two had become quite pally of late. Or was it something else?
When she saw Helen talking to her ma, she knew it was ‘something else’.
Her heart started to beat faster.
Did Helen know?
Bel watched as her ma took the glass she kept under the bar, poured herself a large whisky and lit herself a cigarette. She unhooked the wooden hatch and came round the other side of the bar.
Her face looked solemn.
As did Helen’s.
Neither woman spoke as they made their way over to Bel.
Helen handed Bel her drink and put her own on the table.
Pearl pulled out the stool and sat down amidst a cloud of cigarette smoke. She looked at Bel but said nothing.
‘First of all,’ Helen said, ‘I have to apologise for ambushing you both like this.’
She looked at Bel – and then at Pearl.
If she had been in any doubt that they were mother and daughter, it was instantly dismissed.
‘I know I should have given you both some warning …’ Her eyes were transfixed by Pearl. It was the first time she had noticed how similar she was to Helen’s own mother. The two could have been long-lost sisters.
‘But, you see, I didn’t know quite what to do – or say – so I just decided to come here and see you both. On the spur of the moment.’
Neither Bel nor Pearl said a word.
‘The thing is …’ Helen began; their silence was disconcerting. She suddenly felt what it must be like to get stage fright.
‘The thing is …’ she began again.
‘Aye,’ Pearl said, ‘yer’ve said that twice now. The thing is what? I can’t sit here all night. I’ve got work to do.’
The harshness of Pearl’s words seemed to shock Helen back on track.
Bel threw Pearl a look that said to rein it in.
‘Go on, Helen, what is it you want to ask?’ she said, her voice calm; she had never seen Helen so nervous and unsure.
‘Gosh, this feels so strange now that I’m sat here with you both. Sometimes things seem to make so much sense when they’re in your head, but as soon as you voice those thoughts – those feelings – those beliefs, it seems a little insane.’
Pearl took a puff of her cigarette. ‘Just spit it out, pet.’ Her words were mixed with a swirl of grey smoke.
‘All right,’ Helen said. ‘I really hope I don’t cause you both any upset by saying what I’m about to say.’ She looked at Pearl and saw the beginnings of anger now accompanying her impatience. ‘And I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping the mark, or putting my nose where it’s not wanted, but you see, I think this concerns me as well. In a roundabout way.’
Helen looked at Bel.
‘You see … Well … I think we might be related.’
There, she had said it!
She looked at Bel and then at Pearl.
And that’s when she knew.
The looks on both their faces told her what she needed to know.
Bel was a Havelock.
‘What makes you think that?’ Bel asked Helen.
‘It’s a bit of a long story,’ Helen began.
She looked at Bel. Was that relief she could see?
Then she looked at Pearl, but couldn’t read her face.
‘It started shortly after you began work at the yard,’ Helen said to Bel. ‘I kept looking at you and thinking you reminded me of someone. I kept saying to John – ’ Helen looked at Pearl ‘ – Dr Parker – that it was really bugging me that I couldn’t work it out. But that it would come to me eventually.’
She looked back at Bel.
‘And then it did. Like a smack across the face.’
‘When?’ Bel asked. She had always known she was playing with fire when she had got the job in admin last year, being so close to the family of the man who had fathered her, but she had done so because she had wanted to know more about her ‘other family’. She had never thought it would even have crossed Helen’s mind that they were related.
‘It was at Polly and Tommy’s wedding,’ Helen said. ‘I don’t know if you can remember – but you came over to thank me for the floral arrangements and then my mother turned up.’
Helen looked at Pearl, who was lighting another cigarette off the one she had been smoking. ‘Miriam. Miriam Crawford.’
‘Aye, I knar who yer mam is,’ Pearl said, taking a large gulp of her whisky. She looked at Bel. Was this what Isabelle had always wanted? Why she’d taken the job at the yard?
‘So, you looked at ’em both ’n thought they looked alike.’ Pearl took another drag. ‘So what? Lots of people look alike.’ Pearl knew, though, that she was fighting a losing battle. She should have denied it as soon as the words were out of Helen’s mouth.
‘But it wasn’t just the similarities in looks.’ Helen looked at Pearl and back at Bel. ‘It was your mannerisms as well. You’ve not spent any time in my mother’s company, yet you both do things the same way. Like the way you stand when you’re talking to someone. The way you hold your hand. The way you walk. It’s uncanny.’
Helen caught Bel looking at her mother.
‘And then I found out,’ Helen’s attention was now focused on Pearl, ‘that you had worked for my grandparents. That my grandmother, Henrietta, took you in and employed you as a scullery maid and you worked there for about eight months, but left all of a sudden the day after Easter Monday – and gave birth to Bel nine months later.’
Pearl looked at her daughter. Her beautiful, regal daughter. She had kept the secret of her paternity from her for so many years. More than two decades. If Isabelle wanted to admit to the Havelock girl that she was right and the two were related, it was her decision. She sat back and gave her daughter a look that conveyed the ball was in her court.
Bel turned to Helen and nodded.
‘So, it’s true?’ Helen looked at Pearl. ‘You and my grandfather had an affair?’
‘Pah!’ Pearl erupted.
Helen felt herself flinch. The sudden burst of anger gave her a jolt.
‘Affair my backside!’ Pearl practically spat the words out.
Suddenly they all looked up to see Bill coming towards them.
‘Everything all right?’ He had been watching from the bar. Knew something wasn’t right from the moment Helen had asked to ‘borrow’ his barmaid.
‘We’re fine.’ Bel forced a smile up at Bill. He was like a big bear. Ready to swipe away anyone who might try and hurt Pearl.
‘Aye, we’re all right.’ Pearl downed the rest of her whisky. ‘My throat’s a bit dry, though.’ She held up her glass. Bill took it, returning a minute later with a refill.
‘Ta,’ Pearl said.
Bill looked at the three women and left them to it.
Pearl took another drink.
‘If yer’ve done your sums,’ Pearl stared at Helen, ‘yer will have worked out that yer grandda was in his fifties.’
Pearl took another deep drag on her cigarette.
‘I was fifteen, pet … fifteen years old. Do yer really think I would want to have an affair with someone who was old enough to be my da – if not my grandda?’
Helen’s eyes were glued to Pearl. Deep down she had always known. It had been too hideous for her to accept, though, until now. Suddenly she felt so incredibly stupid. So naïve. Who had she been kidding? An affair? She suddenly recalled John’s face. He’d thought the same, but hadn’t wanted to say, which was so like John – not wanting to hurt her.
‘Yer darling grandda, pet, decided he wanted something,’ Pearl said, her tone without emotion. ‘And so he took it.’
Helen looked at Bel and then back at Pearl and knew every word this woman uttered was true.
She felt a wave of revulsion surge through her.
‘He …’ Helen hesitated. She had to say the words, had to know without a shadow of a doubt what Pearl was saying.
‘He raped you?’ She forced the words, scrutinising Pearl’s worn-out face. She saw it change, as though her whole being was suddenly overcome with tiredness. A lifelong weariness.
