Chapter Forty-Two

The next morning, Helen woke to find Dr Parker’s jacket draped over her. For the briefest of moments, she thought he was there, lying next to her, for she could smell his scent, so distinct, so John. And then she opened her eyes and reality hit her hard. She turned her head and saw Henrietta lying in her bed. She looked so peaceful. Too peaceful.

Panic set in.

‘Grandmama! Grandmama!’ She reached over and touched her cheek. It felt cold.

She turned to the nurse, who was hurrying over, having seen her wake and become distressed.

Helen’s eyes pooled with tears.

‘I think she’s dead!’ She started to cry.

The nurse immediately reached for Henrietta’s wrist to feel for a pulse, her head bobbing down to her patient’s chest to listen for a heartbeat.

Tears were now trickling down Helen’s face.

‘Please, no, no, no, don’t die on me,’ she whispered through the tears.

The nurse lifted her head from Henrietta’s chest.

‘Miss Girling, can you hear me?’ she said, her voice loud in the quietness of the early morning.

Helen could barely see through the tears.

The worst was happening.

Her grandmother had given up. No, she’d been killed. A slow death from the moment that evil man had had her sectioned – until a final sudden, sharp push at the end. Anger suddenly burst through Helen’s grief. He had poisoned Henrietta. She was sure of it. She’d had plenty of time to think whilst sitting there, keeping a vigil at her grandmother’s bedside. Bobby and Dorothy had tried to remain impassive when they had mentioned that the plant had been donated to the Winter Gardens by her grandfather, but it was glaringly obvious that he was the culprit. This was his doing.

Helen watched as the nurse straightened up, took out her pocket torch and again bent over Henrietta. Gently pulling her lids down, she shone a beam of light into Henrietta’s eyes.

Helen took her grandmother’s cold, porcelain-white hand, raised it to her mouth and kissed it.

‘Oh, Grandmama.’ She kissed it again. This time she could feel salty tears on her lips as they dribbled down her face.

And then she felt Henrietta’s hand move.

Or was it her imagination?

Helen looked at her grandmother’s still face and gently squeezed her hand again.

And then she felt it again – only this time it was stronger.

‘Grandmama!’ Helen called out, looking at Henrietta and then up to the nurse.

‘Is she conscious?’

The nurse smiled. ‘I believe she is … Henrietta?’ she said loudly. ‘Can you hear me?’

Helen felt another squeeze of her hand.

‘She just squeezed my hand!’ Helen said, joy bubbling up inside her.

‘I’m going to get the doctor,’ the nurse said, hurrying away.

‘Grandmama,’ Helen said, her hand reaching out and touching the side of her grandmother’s face. It felt cold, but for the first time, Helen realised, it did not look yellow.

‘It’s me, Helen. Your granddaughter.’ As Helen spoke, she saw the slight flickering of movement underneath Henrietta’s eyelids.

‘Grandmama,’ Helen said softly.

And with that word, Helen saw Henrietta’s eyes slowly open. Blinking, she turned her head to the side to look at her granddaughter.

‘Helen, my dearest, dearest granddaughter,’ she said, her voice croaky and weak. ‘Why are you so sad?’ She swallowed. Her lips were dry. ‘And you’ve been crying.’

Helen let out a splutter of laughter.

‘Oh, I’m not sad, Grandmama. Not sad at all.’ She leant over and gave Henrietta a gentle kiss on her cheek.

‘I couldn’t be happier,’ she said.

Dr Parker arrived just moments after Henrietta had opened her eyes. He glanced at Helen, who met his look. Her emerald eyes sparkled with a mix of sheer relief and overwhelming joy. Reaching the side of the bed, he focused on Henrietta, who was turning her head slightly to look at him.

‘Good morning, Henrietta,’ Dr Parker said, taking his thermometer from the top pocket of his crumpled white coat. He had spent the night drifting in and out of sleep in a chair in the consultation room he had temporarily commandeered.

‘How are you feeling today?’

Henrietta looked up at him and smiled.

‘I just want you to open your mouth,’ he said, holding out the thermometer so Henrietta could see. She did as he said. ‘Now, just close your mouth … perfect.’ He then took hold of his stethoscope and listened to her chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Helen holding her grandmother’s hand. Her eyes were concentrating on him. Awaiting his verdict. When he finished listening, he looked at Helen and gave her an encouraging smile.

‘Well, Henrietta,’ he said, looking down at his watch as he took her wrist and felt for her pulse. ‘Looks like that long sleep has done you the world of good.’

Helen choked back the tears.

‘Is she going to be OK?’ she asked.

‘I think she is,’ he said, smiling down at Henrietta.

He turned his attention back to Helen. ‘Her heart rate and blood pressure are good. And …’ He leant down and took the thermometer from Henrietta’s mouth. He squinted. ‘And her temperature is also back to normal.’

He looked back at Henrietta.

‘It’s good to have you back, Henrietta. Very good indeed.’

Over the next hour, the nurse helped Henrietta to sit up and take a few sips of water. She explained that it was now important that she got as much fluid down her as possible – and then a little later they could bring her something to eat. Henrietta nodded, showing her compliance. Helen was by her side all the time, encouraging her grandmother to do what the nurse told her.

‘We need to get you better,’ Helen told her. ‘So you have to do what the nurse tells you – and Dr Parker.’

Every time she mentioned John’s name, Henrietta’s face lit up and she would point a bony finger at Helen. ‘Your doctor friend. Your love.’

And each time, Helen would smile sadly and say, ‘Yes, my doctor friend, but not my love, I’m afraid, Grandmama.’

When she asked Henrietta what she could recall of the past couple of days, she was met by a blank look.

‘What’s the last thing you can remember?’ Helen asked. She had been told by John to see if her grandmother had any memories of falling ill – and of anything about the week or so leading up to her collapse.

Helen watched as her grandmother supped on her beaker of water and squinted, showing that she was thinking. Suddenly, her expression came to life. A smile spread across her face.

‘Going to the Maison Nouvelle,’ she said. Her voice was still raspy. She gave a little cough.

‘That’s right. We went to see Kate, didn’t we? For your final fitting.’

Henrietta nodded.

They were quiet for a moment.

‘Can you remember if you had eaten or had anything to drink? Anything different?’

Henrietta took another sip of her water. Once again, her eyes lit up.

‘Eggnog,’ she said.

‘Of course, the eggnog,’ Helen said, more to herself than to her grandmother. ‘The eggnog and oatmeal biscuits Mother was bringing you as a treat.’

Helen leant forward.

‘Did Mother tell you who gave her the eggnog and biscuits, Grandmama?’

Henrietta suddenly became distracted by someone coming into the ward.

Helen heard her mother’s voice before she saw her.

‘I’ve come to see one of your patients. Miss Henrietta Girling. My great-aunty.’ Miriam’s voice seemed to echo around the room as she spoke to the nurse.

Helen watched as her mother turned around and scanned the ward.

The nurse, who had just taken over from the night nurse, looked down at her list and then up again. ‘She’s just over in the end bed.’

Miriam manufactured a smile before clip-clopping her way over to them in her high heels. The way she was dressed and made-up, Helen thought, she looked as though she was on her way out for a night out – not rushing to her mother’s bedside. Helen wondered how much Dr Eris had told her.

‘What on earth has happened?’ she asked as she sat down in the chair by the side of the bed. She looked around to make sure no one could hear. ‘What have you been up to, Mother?’

‘She’s not been up to anything,’ Helen snapped back. ‘Grandmother is lucky to be alive. She’s been seriously ill.’

Miriam furrowed her brow and looked at Henrietta. ‘Well, she looks fine to me.’ She raised a sceptical eyebrow at Helen.

Helen thought she might burst.

‘She’s been poisoned! And whatever she had nearly killed her. If you’d seen her last night, she looked as yellow as that scarf you’re wearing.’

Miriam looked down at her canary yellow Jaeger neck scarf. She let out a light laugh. ‘Honestly, Helen, you’ve become such a drama queen lately.’ She looked at Henrietta. ‘She never used to be like this, you know. She’s changed a lot lately. And let’s just say it’s not for the better.’

Helen could feel her face redden with anger. She had to use all her willpower not to reach over and wring her mother’s neck with her expensive silk scarf.

‘Now, now, no arguing, you two.’ Henrietta patted Miriam’s jewelled hand.

Helen took a deep breath. ‘Grandmama was just—’

‘Just be careful, my dear,’ Miriam said, putting her finger to her lips and looking around.

Helen closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep herself from exploding.

‘Grandmama,’ she said, ‘was just telling me that she’s been drinking eggnog.’

‘Ah,’ Miriam smiled. ‘She has been.’ She looked at her mother and smiled again, as one would to a child. ‘Apparently, she used to love it back in the day.’

‘And where did you get the eggnog from?’ Helen asked.

‘Agatha made it, along with some of …’ she dropped her voice ‘… Mother’s favourite oatmeal biscuits.’

‘Really?’ Helen asked. ‘And when did she start giving you eggnog and biscuits to take to Grandmama?’

‘Oh, I don’t know … a couple of weeks ago.’

‘And how often have you been taking Grandmama the eggnog and biscuits?’

Miriam pulled a face and sat up straight. ‘Dear me, Helen, why the Spanish Inquisition?’

‘Just answer the question, Mother,’ Helen said sternly.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Every time I’ve visited.’

Helen recalled thinking that her mother seemed to have been visiting more frequently of late.

‘What? Twice a week?’

‘I’d say so,’ Miriam said disinterestedly.

She inspected Helen.

‘Darling, I have to say, you look dreadful.’ She looked at Henrietta and gave her a cheeky smile. ‘You look worse than Mother here – who you claim to have been at death’s door.’

‘She has been at death’s door,’ Helen hissed. ‘Whose idea was it to give Grandmama the eggnog and biscuits?’

‘What makes you think it wasn’t my idea?’ Miriam asked, affronted.

‘Because you’re too selfish to think about anyone but yourself, and as far as I know, you’ve never taken Grandmama anything before now.’

Helen felt Henrietta’s hand on her own. ‘Oh, but she has, my dear. She brought me some of my favourite Russian vodka and some elderflower cordial, didn’t you, dear?’

Miriam threw her daughter a triumphant look. ‘I did indeed, Mother. And all that make-up and hair dye.’

Helen’s mind was working overtime.

‘Really?’ She looked at Henrietta. ‘And did you drink it, Grandmama?’

Henrietta looked guiltily at Miriam. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t. Sorry, my dear, I didn’t like to hurt your feelings. It was such a kind thought.’

‘A kind thought which I’m guessing didn’t come from you, Mother. Whose idea was it to give her the vodka?’

‘Honestly, Helen, you make it sound like I can’t do a single kind thing.’

Helen bit back a reply.

‘Who?’ she asked simply.

Miriam sighed. ‘Your grandfather thought it would be a good idea. He really wanted to give your grandmother something. A present. A treat.’

Helen stared in disbelief at her mother. ‘Really? You really believe that?’

Miriam looked puzzled. ‘Of course, I do, Helen. Why wouldn’t I?’

Helen laughed and looked at her mother. ‘Oh, I forgot. You still believe everything you’re told, don’t you?’

Standing up, Helen gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. ‘Do everything the nurse tells you to do, OK?’

Henrietta nodded.

‘I’ve just got to go and do an errand. I won’t be long. If you feel unwell, you must tell the nurse.’

‘I’m fine, Helen. I feel so much better. Really, I do,’ Henrietta reassured her.

Helen walked around the bed and looked down at her mother’s handbag.

‘You’ve not brought any more treats, have you?’

‘As if I’ve had time,’ Miriam said, defensively. ‘I rushed here as soon as I got the phone call that Mother was unwell.’ She sighed. ‘Although I have to say, I think that Dr Eris was a little over the top about it all. I came here expecting the worst.’ She looked at Henrietta. ‘She looks full of the joys to me.’

Helen took one more look at her grandmother. Thank goodness, she was going to be all right. She couldn’t wait to see John and tell him how thankful she was to him. And Dorothy and Bobby. There was no doubt in her mind that they’d all saved her grandmother’s life. Her words of gratitude would have to wait, though. There was something more pressing she wanted to do. Something that simply couldn’t wait.

Helen had just reached the main foyer of the hospital when she saw a familiar figure striding towards her.

‘Are you all right?’ Matthew Royce’s face was full of genuine concern.

‘Matthew – what are you doing here?’ Helen asked. He was the last person she’d expect to bump into.

‘Marie-Anne told Dahlia that you hadn’t come in this morning – that someone you were close to was seriously ill in hospital …’

Having reached her, he put his hands on her shoulders.

‘Gosh, you look terrible,’ he said, inspecting her face. Her make-up had worn off, and she had dark circles under her eyes. ’

‘Thanks, Matthew,’ Helen laughed.

‘No, honestly, you look as white as a sheet. Let me take you for a cuppa?’

Helen shook her head. ‘I’m all right, honestly.’

Matthew desperately wanted to put his arms around her and kiss her. She had a vulnerability about her that made her seem even more ravishing. God, he wanted her.

‘Honestly?’ he asked.

‘Yes, honestly, Matthew, I’m fine. I’m just off home to get myself cleaned up and then I need to do an errand. Come on, walk me to my car.’

Matthew shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Helen.

‘That I can do,’ he said, putting his arm around her and giving her a gentle squeeze.

Dr Parker was hurrying to catch Helen before she left. He’d popped his head into the ward and seen that Miriam was visiting. The ward nurse had told him that Helen had just left. He broke into a jog. He wanted to be with her, revel in the good news, rejoice in her grandmother’s close call. Very close call. Henrietta was stronger than she looked.

Turning the corner, his heart lifted on seeing Helen heading towards the main foyer.

He was just about to shout out her name when he saw Matthew Royce striding into the hospital, exuding confidence and charm.

God! Just looking at the man riled him.

Slowing his pace, Dr Parker watched as Matthew put his hands on Helen’s shoulders as they talked. He noted that Helen didn’t seem to mind.

Stop it! Dr Parker reprimanded himself. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Helen was his friend. She had made it more than clear to him during their brutally honest talk back in June. It had broken his heart, but at least he knew the truth. So, why was he still struggling to accept it and let go of his feelings for Helen? To be content with her friendship and nothing more?

He stopped walking and watched as Matthew put his coat around Helen’s shoulders and then put his arm around her.

Damn the man!

As Dr Parker turned and made his way back to the ward, he thought about Matthew and Helen. She had claimed that Matthew was purely a friend – she’d actually told John off for even suggesting she would be interested in someone like that. But now he was thinking about it, perhaps she had objected too vehemently. Perhaps she had been embarrassed about liking Matthew. From what he had just seen, they looked very close and very cosy with each other.

Again, he castigated himself. Whoever Helen dates is her choice. Just because I can’t stand the man, doesn’t mean Helen shouldn’t go out with him.

Or was it because, deep down, he couldn’t abide to see Helen with any man?

Because the only man he wanted to see Helen with was himself?