‘Georgina, come in, come in. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here with all these wretched air raids we’ve been getting. I hope no one you know has been affected?’
‘No, no one. Thank goodness,’ Georgina said, taking her pew in front of Helen’s desk. She looked to her right and was glad to see the tea tray in its usual place. She could do with a pick-me-up; like most people in the town these past couple of nights, she’d had little sleep.
‘I heard an AA shell fell in the grounds of the Children’s Hospital, and another in some poor woman’s front garden. Both exploded,’ she said as she watched Helen pouring their tea.
‘I know, a friend of mine works at the Ryhope.’ Helen handed Georgina her cup and saucer. ‘He said it was pandemonium there.’
‘Your friend a doctor?’ Georgina asked.
Helen nodded.
‘They get the overspill. Only one dead. Thank God.’ She sighed heavily. ‘What times to live in when you’re actually thankful that there was only the one casualty.’
Helen went to sit down at her desk with her own cup of tea, reaching down to her handbag for her cigarettes. ‘I don’t know, it makes my concerns about Bel’s parentage seem so insignificant.’ She lit a Pall Mall. ‘Maybe even a bit pathetic. I wonder if I should just forget it and put my time into something more constructive.’
Georgina sat up and put her cup and saucer down. ‘Well, I think that’s the good thing about employing someone like me. You’re not having to waste any valuable time whatsoever … I do the time, as it were, and you can get on with what’s really important.’
Georgina looked out the window at the empty office. It was Sunday. There were no office workers, and only a skeleton staff out in the yard, by the looks of it.
‘You can concentrate on running this place, getting the ships built,’ she continued to stress her point. ‘I hear you’re launching the Chinese Prince in the next week or so?’
Helen’s face lit up with pride.
‘Yes, on the twenty-third. On schedule. She’s going to be taking troops as well as cargo across the Atlantic. Let’s hope Lady Luck’s on her side.’
‘Yes, she’ll need all the luck she can get, the rate Jerry is sinking ships …’ Georgina was relieved she’d steered Helen away from any thoughts of ending the investigation. She and her father were living on a shoestring – a very thin and frayed shoestring at that. ‘So, let me fill you in,’ she said, pulling out her notepad.
‘Well, first of all, I didn’t realise that your grandfather, Mr Havelock, had a younger brother?’
‘Gosh, yes, of course, I completely forgot about him! Dear me, memory like a sieve … I do believe he died before the start of the First War. Tuberculosis, I think. Grandfather’s not one for talking much about family. Never has been. It’s always work, work, work.’
Helen tapped her cigarette on the steel ashtray on her desk.
‘Neither is my mother, come to think of it, although she’s more play, play, play.’
Georgina looked at Helen to discern whether her comments were meant to be humorous. They weren’t.
‘And we’ve never been one of those families that has a hoard of photographs cluttering up the place, gathering dust,’ Helen added, although she had not thought it unusual until now.
She took a sip of her tea.
‘So, that would make this brother my great-uncle … God, you know I can’t even remember his name. Isn’t that terrible?’
Georgina didn’t think it terrible, but she did think it odd. She knew all her relatives – alive and dead.
‘Alexander,’ Georgina said. ‘Master Alexander William Havelock.’
‘How interesting,’ Helen said, blowing out a stream of swirling grey smoke and patting back her victory rolls with her free hand.
Georgina thought Helen looked a tad distracted.
‘Do you think it could be him?’ Helen turned to Georgina. ‘That Pearl and my great-uncle Alex had some great love affair – you know, from different sides of the track but hopelessly in love. Then he died and Bel was born?’
Georgina tilted her head and nodded as though she was seriously considering what Helen had said could be a possibility. She had her own theories, however. Ones she’d keep to herself for now. ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But I’ve still got a heck of a lot more research to do to see if I can connect Pearl to your great-uncle. Or anyone else in the family.’
She waited for Helen to suggest the obvious – that the only other possible male person in the family was her grandfather.
But she didn’t, and Georgina wasn’t going to offer up his name either. It was far easier to defame the dead than the living.
‘Well, that all sounds like great progress,’ Helen said.
Georgina caught her looking at her watch.
‘So, if you’re happy for me to keep ploughing on?’ she asked.
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Helen said, standing up.
Georgina stood up but didn’t make to leave. God, those with money were always the same.
Helen looked at Georgina before exclaiming, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Georgina – your retainer. Dear me, I’d forget my head today if it was loose.’
She pulled out her top drawer and got out her chequebook, scrawling out the agreed amount and handing it over.
‘Thank you.’ Georgina put the part payment in her handbag, along with her notebook, and turned to leave.
As she walked out of the office, she saw a rather handsome fair-haired man sitting in one of the chairs by the window. He was stroking the ginger cat, which was wrapping itself around his legs.
As soon as he saw the two women he stood up.
‘John!’
Georgina turned to see Helen’s face light up. Had the anticipation of this man’s arrival been the cause of Helen’s slightly distracted demeanour?
‘You should have said you were here,’ Helen reprimanded. ‘Rather than sitting out here on your tod.’
‘I managed to arrive a little earlier than expected,’ John said. ‘It’s actually nice to have a moment’s peace and quiet.’
Helen laughed. ‘And to think you ended up getting it at a shipyard. Lucky it’s Sunday … Georgina, meet my friend John – Dr John Parker – a surgeon at the Ryhope Emergency Hospital.’
Georgina put out her hand.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. His hand felt warm and gentle. She could see why Helen might be distracted.
‘And you too,’ Dr Parker said, putting his other hand on top of hers and giving it a rub. ‘My, you’ve got cold hands.’
Georgina blushed before agreeing to meet with Helen again in a fortnight’s time.
Dr Parker watched her leave.
Helen’s Miss Marple was exactly as described.
Half an hour later, Helen and John were sitting in the Victor Hotel public house, just a ten-minute walk up from the yard.
‘So, what’s the update?’ Dr Parker asked. He’d been amazed Helen had let him get the drinks in without any objection.
‘Well, I can’t believe I’m admitting this, you’ll think I’m such a scatterbrain, but I totally forgot my grandfather had a brother. Honestly, I felt a little bit embarrassed. I didn’t even know his name.’
Dr Parker took a sip of his bitter. ‘Which was?’
Helen starting fishing about in her bag. Because John had turned up earlier than expected, she’d not had a chance to put on her lipstick. It looked as though she might have left it at work.
‘Which was what?’ Helen said.
‘His name.’ Dr Parker laughed. Helen was certainly not with it this evening.
‘Oh, his name?’ Helen said, standing up. ‘Alexander something or other … Sorry, John, I just need to go and powder my nose.’
John watched as she made her way to the Ladies. His weren’t the only pair of eyes on her. Helen drew admiring looks everywhere she went.
When she came back, Dr Parker noticed she had applied some lipstick.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked. ‘You seem a bit preoccupied this evening?’
‘Do I?’ Helen sat down and took a rather large gulp of her vodka.
‘So, no real update on a certain someone’s lineage, then?’ Dr Parker said, keeping his voice low, not that he really needed to. The pub was full. And full meant loud.
Helen smiled.
‘Nothing definite, but my little Miss Marple is slowly but surely squirrelling away. She’ll get there in the end, I’m sure of it. She’s that kind of person.’
‘What kind is that?’
‘Determined. Like a dog with a bone. Won’t let go until she’s got what she wants.’ Helen took a sip of the drink. ‘Don’t be fooled by that veneer of childlike vulnerability … Anyway, enough of my life. I want to hear what’s been happening at the Ryhope and if you and your Dr Eris have managed to fix any more bodies and minds?’
‘Well, yes, I hope so. There’s been a definite improvement in young Jacob since he’s been seeing Dr Eris. His amputation’s healing up nicely as well, which is always good to see.’
Helen immediately felt sad. She had never met ‘young Jacob’, but her heart bled for him having to go through the rest of his life with such a disability. No wonder he needed help keeping his sanity.
‘We’ll need a lot more Dr Erises about when this war does finally come to an end,’ Dr Parker prophesised. Helen could hear that John admired the new psychologist. They seemed to get on well.
‘And how’s Polly doing?’ Dr Parker said, changing the subject.
‘Yes, all’s going well, from what I can gather,’ replied Helen.
He watched Helen’s reaction carefully. He still wasn’t sure what her real feelings were about the news that Polly and Tommy were having a baby.
‘And I’m guessing Tommy knows now?’ Dr Parker probed. He’d thought about the impact of Polly’s pregnancy quite a lot since Helen had told him the news. Was it a bit of a double blow? Not only was the man she loved about to have a family, but Helen was still recovering from the loss of her own baby.
‘Oh, he sounds over the moon,’ Helen said. ‘Gloria was telling me he’d finally got Polly’s letter – apparently it took ages to reach him. He wrote back straight away, telling Polly to be careful and take it easy.’
Helen took a sip of her drink and suddenly laughed.
‘He even suggested she join Bel doing office work if she really felt the need to keep on working, which, according to Gloria, was met with complete hilarity.’
Dr Parker chuckled. He’d got to know Polly a little over the past six months and even he could tell she was not one to be working in an office.
‘And how are you feeling about it?’ he asked tentatively.
After learning more about the complexity of the mind from Dr Eris, he’d come to realise that Helen was still ‘in recovery’. She probably didn’t realise it herself, but the very fact that she had been obsessing about the gender of her baby was evidence she had not got over her loss.
‘I’m fine … I feel fine about it,’ Helen said, a slightly puzzled look on her face. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered,’ Dr Parker said, suddenly uncomfortable, ‘because of what happened to you last year.’
Helen’s face became sad.
‘Oh, John, I think the chats with your “head doctor” might be making you overthink things. I’m fine. Honestly.’ She looked at the people in the bar. ‘I’ve not given it a lot of thought, to be truthful. I probably expected it. I mean, they were “living in sin” before they got married.’
Dr Parker looked at Helen. At those eyes. She was either a damn good actress, or she was in denial.
Helen took a deep breath. This was the perfect opening for her to chat about what she had wanted to talk about all evening.
‘Listen to me – “living in sin”. I sound like some preacher. I suppose in this day and age, with everything that’s happening in the world, you wouldn’t think people would care so much about that kind of thing, would you?’
Helen forced out a light-hearted laugh.
‘You know, getting married in white and all that?’
Helen looked at John.
‘What do you think?’
‘Mmm, it’s hard to tell, but my guess is that it’s still important. I don’t think the war has changed our views that much.’
Helen was just opening her mouth to ask if he thought it was important to be virtuous before marriage when the bell for last orders sounded out.
‘Honestly, where does the time go?’ Dr Parker stood up. ‘I’m getting these in.’
Before Helen had time to object, he was on his feet and making his way to the bar.
A few minutes later he was back.
‘Thank you,’ Helen said as he put the drinks on the table.
‘So, what were we saying?’ he asked as he sat down.
‘How the war has changed our views – or rather if it has,’ she said, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Do you think we’re getting less puritanical? More liberal?’
‘Good question,’ Dr Parker said. ‘I do think there’s no denying women’s role in society is changing. I mean, look at your women welders. That would have been unheard of before the war. That in itself must be making people – men and women – change the way they think and feel.’
Helen nodded her agreement, wondering how she could manipulate the conversation back to women in white as opposed to women welders.
She should just come out and say it: John, would you consider courting a sullied woman?
‘Goodness me,’ Dr Parker suddenly perked up. ‘I completely forgot to ask you – how did your meeting with Mr Thompson go?’
‘Oh, it went really well,’ Helen said.
She took a sip of her drink, realising her window of opportunity had gone.
‘He basically said, in a roundabout way, that he would be keen for me to take over from Harold when the time comes.’
‘Well, that’s brilliant,’ Dr Parker said. ‘That would be a promotion and a half, wouldn’t it?’
‘It would,’ Helen mused, ‘but, to be honest, I can’t see Harold taking retirement voluntarily, and I also can’t see Mr Thompson pushing him into early retirement. Still, it’s good that I’m being considered as the person to step into his shoes eventually.’
‘And what was it that gave you the push to see him?’ Dr Parker asked. Helen had been keen to see the big boss since the launch of Brutus, which had coincided with the yard hitting a thirty-six-year production record.
‘Actually, it was something Polly said at Arthur’s funeral.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Dr Parker was intrigued.
‘She was telling me how Tommy had been asking the old man for advice; he didn’t know what to do about Polly – whether he should just let her go, so she’d be free.’
Helen looked at John’s face and laughed. ‘I know! As if that would have made her happy.’
Dr Parker wondered if it might, however, have made Helen happy.
‘Anyway, Arthur said that if Flo, Tommy’s grandmother, were still alive, she’d tell Tommy that if he wanted something, he should just go and get it.’ Helen took a sip of her drink. ‘And I thought, she’s right.’
Dr Parker nodded. ‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at life.’ He wanted to add that such advice was worth taking, but only if the object of the other person’s desire was keen to be acquired. ‘Come on, let me walk you home.’
Dr Parker expected to hear Helen’s usual objection that she was perfectly capable of walking herself home, so he was surprised when she simply got up, grabbed her handbag and gas mask and said, ‘All right, then.’
Perhaps she’d known he would insist.
‘What a lovely evening.’ Helen looked up at the inky-black sky as they left the pub and started walking along Victor Street.
Dr Parker was about to agree and comment on how remarkably quiet it was when the calm was interrupted by the familiar wailing of the air raid sirens.
‘Oh, blast!’ Helen shouted. ‘You’ll just have to come back to mine. Our basement’s about as safe as it gets.’
‘No, you get yourself home,’ Dr Parker shouted back. ‘I’m going back into town … If we get a pasting, I want to be at the Royal to help out.’
‘It’s not worth the risk,’ Helen panicked. ‘You might get hurt.’
Dr Parker let out a hollow laugh.
‘Just like all our boys serving on the front line might get hurt … Get home. Get safe, you hear?’ he said leaning in and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
‘Be careful,’ Helen said, nearly kissing him on the lips but stopping herself at the last moment.
‘Go!’ Dr Parker commanded.
Only when Helen had turned and started to hurry up Zetland Street and into the darkness did he run back down the road and into Dame Dorothy Street.
Seeing an army truck heading towards town, he waved it down.
‘I’m a doctor,’ he yelled at the driver.
Seconds later, the passenger door had slammed shut and the truck was heading towards the Wearmouth Bridge just as the first bombs dropped.