Dorothy and Angie had their faces pressed up against the window of the double doors that led into the office-cum-delivery-ward. Both were giving running commentaries on what they could and could not see. Both were thankful that Dr Parker was obscuring their view so that they didn’t have to witness all the blood and gore, as they had at Hope’s birth.
Marie-Anne was coming and going, giving updates.
After what felt like an age, she opened the door with tears in her eyes and a big smile on her face and declared:
‘It’s a boy! And mother and baby are fine.’
Rosie, Gloria, Dorothy, Angie, Hannah and Olly all cheered, then laughed and cried, all breathing the biggest sighs of relief that Polly and the baby were alive and well.
Now in full Irish brogue, Marie-Anne said they’d be allowed to see ‘mammy and the bab’ in a few minutes, but as Dr Parker wanted them taken to the hospital ‘post-haste’, they had to be quick.
While they were waiting impatiently to be given the green light, Charlotte came rushing up the stairs and, like Dorothy, jumped for joy on hearing the news.
She was immediately dispatched by Rosie to go and tell Agnes she was now a grandmother to a beautiful baby boy and that she should go to the Royal.
Dr Parker stood back and let the women crowd around Polly and her new baby.
Helen moved out of the way too. She looked at him and smiled. For a moment he was back in his dream. Only this wasn’t a dream. This was reality. Her emerald eyes locked on to his own.
‘Helen,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper as she moved closer.
She was going to kiss him!
Suddenly, he felt someone bump into him from behind.
‘Oh, so sorry, old chap!’
He turned around.
It was Matthew bloody Royce.
Matthew ignored him; he only had eyes for Helen.
‘There you are!’ He nudged his way past Dr Parker so that he was facing Helen. Dr Parker noticed he was carrying a bunch of flowers. ‘Thank God you’re all right! I saw the ambulance and naturally thought the worst.’
Dr Parker watched as the man Helen had referred to as ‘a charmer and a chancer’ kissed her on both cheeks.
Dr Parker now stood looking at Matthew’s back. He fought the urge to lamp him one.
‘Polly went into labour …’ he heard Helen explain.
‘And had the little bugger, by the looks of it!’ Matthew let out a huge guffaw. He held the flowers out for Helen. ‘These were meant for you, my dear, but I’m guessing it would now be more appropriate to give them to the new mother.’
Helen laughed. ‘I’m guessing you would be right.’
She touched Matthew’s arm to stop him charging over to Polly with the bouquet.
‘Matthew, meet John … Dr John Parker.’
Matthew spun round, a surprised expression on his face, as though he had just noticed him for the first time.
‘Hello, old boy!’ Matthew stuck out his hand.
Dr Parker put both blood-smeared hands up in front of him.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’ve not had a chance to clean up.’
Matthew glanced down and grimaced.
‘Not a problem, old chap. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.’
Dr Parker looked at Helen.
‘Oh, John, sorry, this is Matthew. Matthew Royce. He’s the new manager at Pickersgill’s.’
‘Ah, yes, of course,’ Dr Parker said, as if he didn’t know.
‘Ha! Didn’t expect to find the office had transformed itself into a maternity ward,’ Matthew exclaimed.
Dr Parker forced a smile.
‘And by the looks of you, my dear Helen,’ Matthew said, ‘it would appear that you too have been helping the good doctor with bringing life into this world.’
‘Well—’ Helen started to speak.
‘I’d better get Polly to the hospital,’ Dr Parker interrupted. ‘She might need a little patching up.’ He looked over at one of the phones. ‘Is it all right to call the hospital, so they can get a message to Dr Billingham?’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Helen said. ‘I’ll get Polly down to the ambulance.’
If Dr Parker had stayed just a few minutes longer, he would have realised that the reason Matthew had brought flowers for Helen was by way of an apology, for he had made a rather crass attempt at kissing her after the launch at Doxford’s the other day.
He hadn’t known what had come over him. One minute Helen was standing in his office chatting to him about a new commission from the Ministry of War Transport, and the next he was bending his head to kiss her – and would have succeeded if she hadn’t snapped her head away from him just as their lips were about to touch.
Helen had been very forgiving about the whole episode; she had laughed it off, which was a little disconcerting, acting as though it was nothing, which it probably was for her. She must have men falling at her feet every time she stepped out of her front door. Like that Dr Parker. He was clearly still hoping he was in with a chance. Miriam had been right. The look he’d given him when they’d been introduced had said it all.
After his clumsy faux pas, bringing Helen flowers today was his way of redeeming himself. And he did intend to redeem himself. He mightn’t have succeeded in his first attempt to woo Helen, but that didn’t mean he’d given up. Far from it.
He’d decided that this woman was going to be his wife. It might take time, but he had plenty of that.
Helen looked around, but John had gone.
Damn it. She’d wanted to speak to him. Wanted to celebrate little Arthur’s birth, and the fact that Polly had asked her to be his godmother – along with Bel. It wasn’t every day you helped bring life into the world. They had just shared something momentous – didn’t he want to chat about it and relive the drama of it all over a drink in the Admiral?
She suddenly felt as though she’d just had the wind taken out of her sails.
She hardly saw John at all these days. She’d rung him a couple of times, but he hadn’t returned her calls. Too busy with Dr Perfect, no doubt.
‘I think we should all go and wet the baby’s head!’
Matthew’s loud voice broke her out of her reverie.
There was cheer of agreement from the women and a smile from Olly, who had been helping Hannah to clear up the mess and now looked several shades paler than he did normally – and he was pale at the best of times.
‘And the drinks are on me,’ Matthew added.
Helen looked at them all and smiled.
She wondered why John had dropped by in the first place; probably just popped in for a quick cuppa after a consultation at the Monkwearmouth.
‘All right, why not?’ she agreed. ‘But I must insist that the drinks are on me.’
Matthew sighed. He had his work cut out with Helen, there was no doubt about that – but he had a feeling he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
As Dr Parker made his way back to Ryhope on the train, he felt consumed by the biggest and darkest cloud imaginable.
Helen and Matthew were clearly an item. They’d been pictured together just recently; he’d been a fool not to realise. Of course, they were. It was a perfect match. They were both managers of shipyards, both from shipbuilding families. God, they even looked similar – both dark and strikingly good-looking.
Dr Parker looked out the window. It was just starting to get dark. He closed his eyes in frustration.
How could he have been so stupid? To keep hope alive – all because of a dream? For the rest of the thirty-minute journey, he berated himself. He had a good mind to check himself into the asylum. And thoughts of the mental hospital made him think about Claire. Was he mad? Did he have some kind of death wish for his love life? Claire was lovely – she was ideal for him.
By the time he arrived at Ryhope station, Dr Parker had made up his mind. This really was it. No more ridiculous fantasies about making Helen his, or about Helen wanting him. He’d had enough.
It was time to leave this boyish crush behind and get on with being an adult. A man. A man who had a real relationship with a real woman.