It was just after a quarter-past seven in the morning. Gloria still had her overcoat buttoned up against the usual early-morning chill drifting in from the North Sea, but her face felt warm as the sun was up and ready to show off its full glory.
She had come into work a little earlier than usual to catch Rosie before the start of the shift to tell her about Polly. Last night Helen had offered to go to Brookside Gardens and tell Rosie about Polly’s near miscarriage, but Gloria had put her off, knowing that Rosie was probably working at Lily’s.
‘And the baby’s definitely going to be all right?’ Rosie asked, her face showing concern, as well as guilt. They’d been working at full pelt yesterday on Denewood’s top deck – on their feet all day, either bent double or doing tricky vertical welds. She’d stopped herself moving Polly onto the lower deck to do some flat welds, where she would at least have been able to sit down while she worked. She’d been worried Polly would accuse her of fussing. She wished she had now. Wished she’d insisted Polly lay off welding altogether until after the baby was born.
‘Yes, it sounds like the baby should be all right now, but I think Pol’s gonna have to take it easy from here on in. They’ve put some kind of stitch in her to keep the baby in.’
‘That sounds awful.’ Rosie sat down on one of the pallets. ‘Honestly, nothing goes the way it’s supposed to, does it?’
Gloria let out a bitter laugh. ‘God forbid!’
‘So, she’s still in hospital?’
Gloria nodded, sitting down next to Rosie and getting out her flask of tea.
‘They’ll probably discharge her today. Apparently, she’s perfectly healthy. As is the baby as far as they can tell. She’s just got a weak cervix.’ She looked at Rosie. ‘That’s the neck of the womb.’
Rosie nodded. The cervix was something she unfortunately knew a lot about.
‘I don’t think she’ll be able to do any welding work, though,’ Gloria said. ‘Doctor’s orders. Nothing too physical or strenuous. Mind you, even if the doctor had said she could, I think Agnes would have had a complete fit. The way she was talking last night, she wants Polly bedbound for the rest of her pregnancy.’
‘I can’t see Polly agreeing to that,’ Rosie said.
‘Me neither.’ Gloria looked up to see Dorothy and Angie chatting to Hannah, Olly and Martha. She guessed they were telling them about Polly.
‘The doctor said she can do some kind of desk job, but nothing that’s too physical,’ Gloria relayed.
‘I’ll go and see Helen later on. See what we can work out,’ Rosie said.
‘I was just coming to see you.’ Rosie had walked through the main doors of the admin building to see Helen hurrying down the stairs towards her. The lunchtime klaxon had just sounded out.
‘I’m guessing it’s about Polly?’ Helen said.
Rosie nodded.
‘I’m off to see her now. They’re keeping her in until early evening. Just to be on the safe side.’
Rosie turned and opened the door and they both walked back out into the yard.
‘But don’t worry,’ Helen said, ‘I’ve got an idea. Not exactly a job swap, more of a reshuffle.’
‘Brilliant,’ Rosie said. ‘Tell Polly I was asking about her – and that I’ll pop round to Tatham Street tomorrow after work with Charlotte. That’s if she’s up to it.’
‘Will do … Chat later,’ Helen said, before hurrying off across the yard to the main gates.
It only took ten minutes to get to the Royal thanks to her grandfather’s chauffeur and car, which she’d commandeered for the day.
Reaching Polly’s room, she realised it was the same one she had been put in after her miscarriage. She forced herself to breathe normally and push away thoughts of that godforsaken day.
She knocked tentatively on the door.
‘Come in.’
Helen opened the door just enough to poke her head through.
‘You up for visitors?’ she asked.
Polly pushed herself up in the bed.
‘Come in, come in!’ She waved her in and patted the chair next to her bed. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come.’
Helen thought Polly looked well. She had roses in her cheeks and a smile on her face. She went and sat down on the chair.
‘How’re you feeling?’
‘Well,’ Polly said, ‘very well.’
Helen saw that Polly was in the middle of writing a letter.
‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘Tommy?’
Polly nodded; tears started to wet her eyes.
‘Actually, I was just telling him about you – well, you and Dr Parker.’ She grabbed hold of Helen’s hand. ‘I was saying I didn’t know how I was going to be able to thank you both for saving our baby’s life.’
A tear slowly made its way down Polly’s cheek.
‘Still don’t know.’
Helen desperately fought her own emotions. Being in the same room, seeing Polly in the same bed, had knocked her for six.
‘You can thank me by making sure you look after yourself and that baby.’ Helen looked down at Polly’s slightly pronounced stomach.
‘Oh, I fully intend to,’ Polly said, her voice thick with tears. ‘I don’t think I could have forgiven myself if I’d lost this baby.’
‘Not that it would have been your fault if you had,’ Helen said, thinking of her own miscarriage. John had reassured her she was not to blame, although no one seemed to know why she’d lost her baby.
‘That’s what Dr Billingham told me,’ Polly said, putting her letter to Tommy to the side and shuffling around so that she was facing Helen.
‘I want you to know,’ Polly said, looking at Helen, eyes sparkling with a mix of tears and gratitude, ‘I will never forget what you and Dr Parker did for me. Never. And I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough … And I know Tommy would want to thank you as well. This baby means the world to him. Especially now Arthur’s gone.’
Helen nodded. Now the old man had died, Polly and their baby were his only family.
Polly sat back and sighed. Her face suddenly became sad.
‘You know, I made a promise to Tommy that I’d carry on and live life to the fullest if he didn’t make it back.’
She closed her eyes for a second and turned away.
‘And I hate to admit this,’ she opened her eyes again and looked at Helen, ‘but there is a part of me that’s accepted there’s a good chance I won’t ever see him again.’
Helen squeezed Polly’s hand. Tears were pricking her own eyes.
‘I knew I could keep that promise I made to him if I had a part of him with me.’ She put her hand on her stomach and looked down. ‘But if I’d lost this baby, and lost Tommy too, I really don’t know if I could have.’
Helen put her other hand on top of Polly’s and swallowed back her own emotions.
‘Well, that’s something that isn’t going to happen,’ she said, her voice strong and determined. ‘What happens to Tommy is out of our hands, but we’re going to do everything possible to make sure that this baby survives – and that it arrives in this world healthy and bawling its little lungs out.’