When the air raid alarm sounded out at exactly 2.49 a.m., Charlotte woke with a start.
She had gone to bed thinking about whether there was an afterlife and if her parents knew all that had happened after they had died, and if there was, did that mean her uncle Raymond was there too? She hoped not and that instead he would be stuck in purgatory – it seemed the least he could expect as punishment for everything he had done.
‘You know the drill!’
She heard Rosie’s voice through the wall and forced herself out of her warm bed and into her siren suit.
A few minutes later, she and Rosie were making their bleary-eyed way into Mr and Mrs Jenkins’ Anderson shelter in the back garden next door.
The Elliot household, as well as Beryl and her daughters, Iris and Audrey, had made it round the corner to the air raid shelter in Tavistock Place in record speed.
‘You feeling all right?’ Agnes asked Polly, who was wrapping a blanket around herself and Lucille. The little girl had snuggled up and had her head on her aunty’s bump.
Polly nodded, brushing her niece’s blonde hair away from her forehead.
‘We’re fine,’ she said, smiling. ‘All three of us.’
Reassured, Agnes sat back and started chatting to Beryl.
Polly looked across at Pearl, who was curled up with her coat wrapped around her, gently snoring; the woman could sleep through anything.
Next to her was Bel, who had her head on Joe’s shoulder. Her eyes were closed. Seeing her brother and her sister-in-law together, their arms wrapped around one another, Polly felt the slightest twinge of envy.
What she wouldn’t give for Tommy to be here with her now.
She closed her eyes and let her mind’s eye conjure up a picture of the man she loved. She saw Tommy as she had that first time, when he was being hauled out of the river after a dive. Her heart still hammered remembering how the linesmen had removed his huge twelve-bolt copper helmet and she’d seen him. It really had been love at first sight. She pictured Tommy standing at the altar, looking so handsome in his Royal Navy uniform, his eyes glued to her as she walked down the aisle. Recalling that day, and their ‘back to front honeymoon’ at the Major’s flat, made her feel almost giddy with happiness. She just wished she could stay in that moment – at least until the air raid ended.
But the tremors from the bombs that had just started to drop on the town wouldn’t let her and instead her thoughts moved on to her near miscarriage, and the awful feeling she still couldn’t shake of what it would feel like if she lost her baby – as well as Tommy. It was now five months since Tommy had left for Gibraltar. Five months of yanking mines off the hulls of enemy ships.
Everyone thought she was being so stoic about Tommy going back to Gibraltar, but when she had been faced with losing his baby – coupled with the very real chance that she might also lose Tommy – she’d known she wouldn’t be able to carry on.
That feeling was still fresh and had persevered despite Dr Billingham’s reassurances that she and her baby were ‘doing just fine’.
Her bravery was conditional, and in her mind that wasn’t being brave at all.
‘So, Mother, did you have a good time at the launch?’
‘Which one?’ Miriam said, pulling the quilt she had brought from her room more tightly around her shoulders.
‘The Chiswick,’ Helen said.
‘Was that Doxford’s or Pickersgill’s?’ Miriam asked. ‘They all blur into one after a while.’
‘Pickersgill’s,’ Helen said, taking a sip of her water and putting it back on the little side table next to her chair.
‘Ah, yes, I did, thank you very much.’ Miriam eyed her daughter as she lit another candle. ‘There was a little drinks do afterwards. It would seem Mr Royce’s son is nothing like his dear papa.’
‘Why?’ Helen asked. ‘Because he wants to drink and schmooze and socialise rather than roll up his sleeves and do a decent day’s work?’
‘Well, darling, being a workaholic has done Mr Royce senior no favours. No favours at all.’
‘Because he’s had a minor stroke?’ Helen asked.
Miriam let out a scathing laugh. ‘Darling, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the stroke was far from minor. The old man’s finished. Apparently, he’s paralysed down one side and talking like a drunk.’
Helen was riled by her mother’s total lack of compassion. She liked Mr Royce. He was a fair, straight-up man. He would never have partied while his employees worked. Even after a launch.
‘I think your grandfather was rather disappointed that you and your little friend didn’t stay and partake of the festivities,’ Miriam said, opening the door of the cabinet next to the single bed she was sitting on.
‘Mrs Elliot is not a “little friend”, Mother – she was there in her capacity as my secretary.’
‘I thought that Irish girl was your secretary?’ Miriam said, pulling out a half-bottle of Gordon’s.
‘They both are,’ Helen said, watching her mother. There hadn’t been the slightest hint that she thought Bel was anything but a friend and co-worker. It cemented her belief that her mother had no idea the woman she had been chatting to earlier on in the week was her sister.
‘Oh, who’s getting all la-di-da. Two secretaries.’ Miriam poured a slosh of gin into a glass tumbler she had retrieved from the cabinet.
‘And your grandfather wasn’t the only one disappointed by your no-show after the launch.’ She took a sip of neat gin and grimaced. ‘Mr Royce Junior was also decidedly down in the mouth you didn’t grace us with your presence.’
Now it was Helen’s turn to ignore her mother. She started looking around for a blanket. Finding one, she shook it out and wrapped it around her shoulders.
‘I told him that you were all work and no play, and that was why you were still single and hadn’t been snapped up.’ Miriam paused. ‘However, I might have let it slip that you were being hotly pursued by a highly regarded and very eligible surgeon from one of the county’s top hospitals.’
Helen’s head snapped up and she looked at her mother.
‘That really annoys me!’ Helen spat out the words and glared at her mother through the semi-darkness. ‘You have no right talking to complete strangers about me like that. And John is not “pursuing” me. Like I’ve told you a million times already – we’re just friends.’
‘Darling, don’t be getting all irate at me—’
They heard an explosion and Miriam took a large sip of her gin. ‘God, I’m going to have to remember to bring some tonic down here next time … So, where was I? That’s it … You see, Helen, sometimes you have to listen to your old mama. I know you think I can be scheming –’
Miriam ignored Helen’s forced laughter.
‘– but, you see, you have to play your cards right,’ she lectured, ‘and sometimes in this world you have to be a little manipulative to get what you want. Much as I know how fond you are of dear Dr Parker, there’s not a cat in hell’s chance of bagging him for a husband. I’d bet my inheritance that John likes you – more than likes you – and definitely finds you attractive – that goes without saying – but he will never marry you. I know it hurts to hear this, but he knows too much about you – and quite simply, he won’t want used goods. It’s just the way men are. Men of a certain standing, anyway.’
Helen took a deep breath to stop herself from going over to her mother and shaking the living daylights out of her.
‘But Mr Royce Junior, on the other hand,’ Miriam continued, ‘doesn’t know anything about you. Just all the good stuff. And even if he were to know, he’s a widower, and widowers are known for preferring a woman who might have been round the block once – or even twice. Providing they’ve been discreet, of course.’
Helen looked at her mother.
‘Quite finished?’
Miriam took a quick sip of her drink. ‘So, I told him he’d better stake his claim before the good doctor.’
Helen let out a gasp of exasperation.
‘Well, you seem to have it all worked out, don’t you, Mother dearest. There’s only one problem – I’m not remotely interested in either Mr Royce or getting married, so I’m afraid you’re wasting your time and your breath.’
‘Give it another year,’ Miriam said with complete confidence. ‘You’re no spring chicken and you’ll be even less of a one this time next year.’
‘We’ll see,’ Helen said, equally confident.
There was another explosion and they were quiet for a moment.
‘On a completely different topic,’ Helen said, ‘now that we’re both down here and being so honest and open with each other, I think it would be the perfect opportunity to talk about the elephant in the room.’
Miriam looked round the small, dark basement.
‘What elephant?’ she laughed. ‘I don’t see any elephant.’
They both jerked automatically on hearing another explosion.
‘Although it sounds like there’s a few stomping round out there.’ Miriam looked up at the basement ceiling.
‘The elephant being Father,’ Helen said. ‘And the fact that it is now totally ridiculous that you won’t allow him to come back here.’ Helen thought of Gloria and Hope. If her father was back home, he’d be with them now, making sure they were both safe. ‘I really think you have made your point – that you have made everyone suffer enough.’
‘Pfft!’ Miriam almost choked on her gin. ‘Suffer enough? They’re not suffering. Your father’s doing what he loves – only over the border – and I hardly think his bit on the side and his bastard are suffering. They’ve got a cosy little flat. She’s got a job which, by all accounts, is a decent wage, especially as she’s only got two mouths to feed. And she’s got shot of that husband of hers, although I think she was foolish to divorce him. Chances are he’ll die out there in the Arctic and if he does, she will have missed out on a nice payout.’
‘God, Mother, have you not a shred of humanity in you?’
‘I have humanity for those who deserve it,’ she said.
There was another muffled explosion.
Helen took a deep breath.
‘It’s wrong to keep a father from his daughter, and I don’t just mean Hope – I’m talking about myself. I don’t think you’ve ever once considered what it’s been like for me not having Dad here.’
Miriam tutted. ‘Oh, you’re a big girl now, Helen. I’m sure you’ll survive.’
Her comments were followed by the sound of another bomb hitting the town.
They were quiet for a while.
‘The point is, Mother,’ Helen said, deciding to change track. She hadn’t really believed a call on her mother’s empathy would work; she should have known, you can’t play on something that doesn’t exist. ‘Even if you don’t care about anyone’s suffering other than your own, I still believe you need to allow Father to come back home – while you can still control the situation.’
Miriam sat up. ‘What do you mean, “control the situation”?’
‘What I mean, Mother, is that the time might come when Angie’s mam leaves her husband and takes up with her young chap, and when Dorothy’s mother comes clean about her bigamy and works out some kind of a deal with the town’s magistrates. She’s got money – and “standing”. I can’t see her being hauled in front of the courts, or worse still, put in jail. And as for Martha, well, I’m getting to know her a little more of late, and I don’t think she would really give two hoots who knows what about the woman who gave birth to her.’ Helen was pleased with the plausibility of her argument. She was even convincing herself. ‘Use your head, Mother. People are going to start to wonder and ask why it is that Father is in Scotland while his family and workplace are here.’ Helen stared at her mother through the flickering darkness. ‘I’m sure you could come to some arrangement with Dad whereby he keeps his relationship with Gloria under wraps for a while. Do it gradually so it doesn’t cause a stir.’
Miriam looked at her daughter and smiled.
‘Oh Helen, you really have no idea, do you?’
Helen saw the coldness in her mother’s eyes – and something else that she couldn’t quite decipher.
‘This isn’t just about making your father suffer, or that woman and her brat. Or because I don’t want the scandal or the humiliation. This is about me,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him in this town, never mind in his house, or working down the road. I’d banish him to the Outer Hebrides if I could, never mind just Glasgow. This is about me,’ Miriam repeated.
‘I don’t want to ever set eyes on your father ever again as long as I’m still drawing breath,’ she hissed.
And that’s when Helen realised what she had seen in her mother’s cold blue eyes.
Hurt.
And it was a hurt that cut deep.
‘The Germans couldn’t have wished for a better night for it,’ Dr Eris said, looking at the full moon. She was standing with Dr Parker, staring at the glowing skies blanketing Sunderland town. The teardrops of orange flares would have seemed almost pretty as they sailed down onto the town like a snow flurry, had they not been followed by Hitler’s harbingers of death. There had been countless explosions and from where they were standing it looked as though the whole town was on fire.
‘I know,’ Dr Parker said, not attempting to disguise his anger.
Dr Eris took his hand and squeezed it. They had talked quite a lot during the past week about the war and John had confessed to her that he felt frustrated that the Ministry of War had turned down his repeated requests to use his skills on the front line. She knew the ire she was hearing was partly caused by that, but also by the feeling of power-lessness that came hand in hand with every air raid.
‘Don’t be bitter,’ she said. ‘You’re saving lives here. And what’s more, you’re giving these men the hope of a future.’ Dr Eris had heard what a brilliant surgeon John was – how he had saved both lives and limbs, and that he was spending every spare minute he had researching advancements in prosthetics.
‘Do you know how many casualties are expected?’ Dr Eris asked.
‘No, we were just told to be on standby. We’re full to the brim, so I’ve given instructions to bring them here so they won’t have to worry about numbers.’
‘Dr Eris!’
They both turned to see one of the nurses at the main entrance.
‘Coming, Nurse Howden!’ Dr Eris shouted back.
She gently took hold of the lapels of Dr Parker’s white coat and kissed him on the lips. ‘Pop in for a cup of tea when you’ve patched everyone up, and don’t worry about the gossips. Let them have their fun.’ She looked into the distance at the sanguine skyline. ‘God only knows, we have to take it when we can.’
Dr Parker nodded. He looked over at Nurse Howden, whose body language spoke her impatience.
‘You better go. I’ll see you later.’
Looking back towards the town, Dr Parker’s thoughts naturally went to Helen.
Providing she was in her basement, she’d be all right. And at this time of the morning she wouldn’t be anywhere else. Would she? All of a sudden, he felt a stab of jealousy that seemed to come out of nowhere.
Perhaps that was why she hadn’t called him back. Too busy with someone else?
He immediately reprimanded himself.
How could he be jealous when he had just started seeing Claire?
Noticing a vehicle’s headlights swing round off the main road and start up the long drive to the hospital’s entrance, Dr Parker flashed his torch to show them the way.
When would he get it through his thick skull that he and Helen were simply friends?