As Helen drove across the Wearmouth Bridge, she automatically looked to her left, her eyes scanning the river, crammed as always with an eclectic mix of boats and barges, cobles and colliers, the odd schooner and, of course, ships – those in the making, as well as those docked for repair. She caught a glimpse of the J.L. Thompson & Sons shipyard on North Sands through an archway of overhanging cranes, before forcing her attention back to the road. Whenever she saw her place of work, she never failed to feel a swell of pride.
Driving down Bridge Street and turning left into High Street West, she spotted a couple of billeted Admiralty leaving the Grand Hotel and her mind swung to her mother. She had heard her return late last night, stumbling up the stairs to her bedroom, having undoubtedly drunk the bar dry with her friend and fellow lush, Amelia.
Helen indicated and turned right down Norfolk Street.
Parking at the bottom of the street, she climbed out of her beloved green sports car, admiring it for a moment. Even though she had bought it several months ago, the novelty of owning such a swanky motor, and driving it rather than being chauffeured, had not worn off.
Looking at her watch, Helen saw it had just gone half ten. Enough time for Gloria and her father to have had a lie-in and enjoyed their first breakfast together with Hope as a family, but not so late that they might have ventured out – something she knew they’d be loath to do until they’d been told exactly what had happened yesterday.
Walking through the melting snow towards the end of the road, Helen turned right into Borough Road. As she approached the steps that led down to Gloria’s flat, she imagined how wonderful it must have been for her father to finally be reunited with Gloria and Hope. Her heart warmed at the thought of it.
Knocking on the front door, Helen called out, ‘Only me!’
Seconds later, the door opened. Jack stood with Hope in his arms.
‘Dad!’ Helen held her arms out wide and hugged them both.
‘Daddy!’ Hope shouted out, copying her big sister.
‘Yes,’ Helen said, cupping Hope’s heart-shaped face. ‘Daddy’s back!’
Looking over her father’s shoulder, Helen saw Gloria coming out of the kitchenette. She didn’t think she had ever seen her look so happy.
Having fussed over Hope playing with her toys on the clippy mat by the coffee table, Helen sat down in the armchair next to her and watched as her father settled with Gloria on the sofa opposite.
‘So, come on, don’t keep us in suspense any longer,’ Jack said.
‘Well,’ Helen took a quick sip of her tea, ‘it’s a long story, which I will try and keep as short and succinct as possible.’
She kept her word, briefly telling her father about Bel’s true paternity, how she had initially suspected that she might be a Havelock after seeing Bel and Miriam at Polly and Tommy’s wedding last Christmas. The similarities between the two had hit her like a slap on the face: the same corn-blonde hair, the same button nose, the same lips and the same blue eyes. Both pretty and petite. She relayed how she had ended up employing a young female private eye, whom she had nicknamed Miss Marple, to find out the truth. Armed with the information she’d been given, Helen had decided she would only know for sure if she confronted Pearl and Bel; something she had done last May in the Tatham Arms.
‘So, you’ve known all this time?’ Jack asked, surprised that Helen hadn’t told him.
‘I have,’ Helen said.
‘And I have as well,’ Gloria said, looking at Jack. ‘But Bel said she wanted as few people to know as possible. She said it was all right for Helen to tell me as she knew how close we are.’
‘So,’ Jack said in disbelief, ‘the old man is Bel Elliot’s real father?’
Helen and Gloria looked at him and nodded.
‘Pearl used to work as a scullery maid way back when—’ Helen stopped short.
‘And he got her in the family way?’ Jack said.
‘More like raped her,’ Helen said.
Jack looked to Gloria for affirmation. She nodded, her face grim. He felt a shiver go down his back. Charles Havelock had been his father-in-law for over twenty-five years. This was shocking.
‘And I learnt yesterday that Pearl wasn’t the only one,’ Helen continued. ‘One poor girl called Grace never got over what had been done to her. Her mother came home one day to find her daughter hanging from the bannisters.’
Gloria’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, that’s terrible.’
Jack stood up and paced across the living room. His face was red and his jaw clenched.
‘So,’ Gloria said, ‘I’m guessing when you ’n yer mam were at yer granddad’s for yer Christmas dinner, Pearl ’n Bel turned up – and Bel told Mr Havelock that she was his daughter?’
‘Yes,’ Helen said.
‘And I’m guessing,’ Jack said, his face still flushed with anger, ‘that Bel said she’d tell everyone about what he’d done to her mam – ’n that she was the result – if I wasn’t allowed to come back.’
‘More or less,’ Helen said.
‘And what about Miriam?’ Gloria asked. ‘I can’t imagine she took all of this lying down.’
‘No, she didn’t.’ Helen sighed. ‘She accused Bel and Pearl of being liars, at which point Bel showed them the private eye’s report, which detailed all the evidence that pointed to Grandfather being Bel’s father.’
‘What? You gave Bel the report?’ Gloria didn’t try to hide her surprise.
Helen nodded.
‘Bel said she’d make it plain that Pearl was in no way a willing participant in her conception and that she would tell the judge and jury and anyone else who would listen to her that Grandfather was a rapist. A “sick and perverted old man”. And that Pearl had only been fifteen years old at the time, which, she pointed out, was below the age of consent.’
‘Blimey,’ Gloria said, beckoning Jack to come and sit down.
‘And very clever,’ Helen said. ‘She had Grandfather in a corner. Even if it couldn’t be proved he’d raped her, it would still be an offence because of Pearl’s age.’
Helen watched as her father sat back down next to Gloria.
‘Bel said that in exchange for her silence, she wanted Dad to be able to return home to be with the woman he loves, but more than anything so that he could be a father to Hope. She did what she did for this little girl here,’ Helen said, looking at Hope playing intently with her dollies. ‘So Hope could have a father in her life.
‘But,’ Helen went on, raising her eyebrows, ‘that wasn’t the only shocker to come out of yesterday’s very eventful Christmas dinner.’
‘There’s more?’ Gloria said.
‘There is indeed.’ Helen looked from her father to Gloria. ‘Grandfather said that he’d also been doing his research and knew Bel had a half-sister called Maisie who had been adopted as a baby.’
‘Which everyone knows already,’ Jack said.
‘They do,’ Helen said, ‘but not many know that she is also a call girl – and that she works in an upmarket bordello which is run by Rosie’s friend Lily.’
Helen looked at her father and Gloria. Neither looked at all shocked.
‘Did you know that already?’ she asked accusingly.
‘We did,’ said Gloria. ‘But it wasn’t our secret to tell.’
Gloria and Jack waited for Helen to ask more about Lily, the eccentric woman with the orange hair and fake French accent, and her connection with Helen’s head welder, Rosie Miller, but she didn’t. Much to their relief.
‘So after Grandfather showed his trump card,’ Helen continued, ‘he told Bel that if she said anything to anyone about him being her father, then he would inform the authorities about the bordello, and also make sure all the women welders’ secrets would be bandied about town.’ Helen sighed. ‘And, of course, that he would take great pleasure in finding ways of ruining not only Bel’s life, but the lives of all those she holds dear.’
Jack shook his head in disbelief.
‘So, how come he agreed to allow Jack back?’ Gloria asked.
Helen arched an eyebrow. ‘Pearl. Unbelievably, it was Pearl who saved the day.’
‘How come?’ Jack asked.
Helen watched as Hope got up, squeezed her way past her mammy and started climbing on to her daddy’s knee.
‘Well, Pearl said that if he did grass them all up, Lily’s little black book would undoubtedly find its way into the hands of the police. And that every one of those businessmen, judges, lawyers and those high-up in the police would know it was Grandfather’s fault that they were being pulled in for solicitation.’
‘She had him by the short and curlies then,’ Jack said.
‘She did, but Pearl had one more card to play to totally secure the deal,’ Helen said.
‘And what was that?’ Gloria asked.
‘Grandmother,’ Helen said simply.
‘What do you mean?’ Jack asked.
‘Well,’ said Helen, sucking in air, ‘it would seem that my dear grandmama is not in fact dead, but is very much alive and living – or should I say incarcerated – up at the asylum under an assumed name: Miss Henrietta Girling.’
‘What? At Ryhope?’ Jack was incredulous.
‘Yes,’ said Helen.
Jack had met Henrietta a few times in the early days of his marriage to Miriam. He’d never forgotten her look. She was eccentric, certainly, but not mad.
‘Why’s she at the asylum?’ Jack asked.
‘That’s the pertinent question,’ Helen said. ‘Grandmama Henrietta has been locked away in the local mental hospital because of Grandfather.’
There was silence as Jack and Gloria digested what they’d been told.
‘So, he got her sectioned?’ Jack asked.
‘He did. Greased the necessary palms. And she’s been there ever since,’ Helen said.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Gloria asked.
‘I’ve seen her with my own eyes.’ Helen looked at their shocked faces. ‘I drove there last night and Genevieve the old receptionist took me to see her.’
Gloria and Jack looked at Helen and then at Hope, whose attention was now also focused on her big sister.
‘And she’s lovely,’ Helen said. ‘Really lovely. Obviously, she comes across as a bit doolally, but who wouldn’t if you’d been shut away in the local loony bin for the past two decades.’
Jack and Gloria were speechless.
‘And you’ll never guess who her doctor is.’ Helen was looking at Gloria.
‘Not Dr Eris?’
‘The one and only,’ Helen said, wide-eyed.
Jack looked puzzled. ‘Who’s Dr Eris?’
Helen stood up and sighed. ‘A story for another day.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Gosh, look at the time. I’ve got to get back to the yard.’ She got up and looked at her father, Hope on his lap and Gloria sitting next to him. She smiled. ‘I’ll come and see you all later.’
As she left, she turned. ‘And Dad … it’s great to have you back.’
‘I’ll second that,’ Gloria beamed.
As she closed the door, Helen heard Hope’s squeals of delight. They weren’t the only ones to be over the moon to have Jack back.
As Helen walked to the car, she thought of Dr Parker. He was never far from her thoughts, especially when she was excited or upset or she had some news to tell – and boy did she have some exciting, as well as pretty scandalous, news to impart. She wished she could go and see him now, just drive over to the Ryhope and have a good catch-up over a pot of tea and an iced bun. John’s favourite. But she had to get back to work; although, even if she didn’t, it was likely that John would be busy in the operating theatre, doing his rounds or on call. And if he wasn’t, there was an equally good chance he’d be with that awful woman – Claire Eris. Dr Claire Eris. Helen didn’t like her one bit. And not just because she’d got her claws into the man Helen wanted for herself – the man she was in love with.
The moment she had first met Claire that day in the canteen on a visit to see John, her hackles had risen. There was something about Claire that she didn’t like. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what. Outwardly, Claire was a lovely, intelligent, attractive doctor – a psychotherapist, no less – doing a wonderful job of helping others, of mending minds, as she put it. But Helen suspected that inwardly all was not so perfectly lily-white – that Claire had a mean, conniving streak in her, and could be ruthless when she wanted something.
Still, those were thoughts she’d have to keep to herself. She was going to have to learn to deal with Claire, as there was a good chance that she’d bump into her when visiting her grandmother at the asylum. Claire was Henrietta’s doctor, after all. Typical – out of all the doctors working in the asylum, Claire was her grandmother’s shrink. But at least Helen’s visits to Ryhope would give her the opportunity to see John.
As she got back in her car, Helen’s mind wandered back to two days ago, to Christmas Eve, when they had been squashed up in the Tatham after the christening. John had seemed genuinely sad that they hadn’t seen much of each other lately. He’d been in a reflective mood and had talked about how close they had become over the years, which was true, and how they had been there for each other, which wasn’t entirely true. He had been there for her – throughout her four-month pregnancy, her miscarriage, the sickening revelations about her grandfather – but she honestly didn’t think that she had really been there for him, other than as a companion.
Starting up the engine, Helen indicated and pulled out, turning left into Borough Road. She just wished she had realised she was in love with him sooner. But at the beginning she had been too wrapped up in her girlish crush on Tommy; then she’d become involved with Theo – lying, cheating, married Theo – who had used her like a rag, tossed her aside and returned to his pregnant wife and two children. John had helped her pick up the pieces, and as time had gone on she had realised, too late, that she was in love with him. Although even if she had realised sooner, it would still have been hopeless. John would not want her as a wife. As her mother had repeatedly told her, she was ‘sullied’, after all.
As she drove through the town centre and then across the Wearmouth Bridge, Helen recalled John saying how much he valued their friendship. ‘I think we’ve got something special,’ he’d said. And she’d told him that she agreed. That she was glad she wasn’t losing him, despite his relationship with Dr Eris. And she had meant it.
She couldn’t imagine a life without John in it, even if it was just as a friend.