After leaving the Tatham, Helen turned right and made her way towards Borough Road. It was still light enough to walk without the aid of her little electric torch. The marble-playing children had been called in for their suppers a good while ago and playtime for most of the street’s youngsters had been replaced by bedtime.
Helen would have given anything to magically transport herself to the Ryhope to be with John. He was the person she yearned to be with. She would have given anything to be sitting next to him, feeling his body next to hers. The love she believed they had for each other replacing the feelings of horror and revulsion she had been left with after finally hearing the truth.
A truth she guessed John already knew.
John had been with her throughout this whole sorry saga, and it felt natural that she should be with him now. But of course she couldn’t be. She knew he had a particularly difficult operation scheduled for this evening. She would have to wait until tomorrow to see him.
Walking down the stone steps to the little basement flat, Helen realised how lucky she was to have John – and, of course, Gloria. She didn’t know what she would do without either of them.
Helen knocked. Not too loudly as she didn’t want to wake Hope.
‘Helen.’ Gloria opened the door wide. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ She ushered her in. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Ah John!’
Dr Parker turned to see Dr Eris striding towards him down the corridor.
‘Claire,’ he said, smiling, ‘you have such energy. Would you mind giving me a little if you have any to spare?’
‘How looks can deceive!’ She laughed and touched his arm gently as she reached him. ‘Honestly, it’s all a façade. Underneath this sprightly exterior is one worn-out, rather depleted woman.’
Dr Parker raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘If you say so.’
‘I’m guessing you’ve just been to see our young Jacob?’ she asked, looking down at the thick, clearly labelled patient file he was holding.
‘I have indeed. And I have to say again what a brilliant job you’ve done. I’m guessing he’ll be going home soon?’
‘I want to find him some kind of work placement or war work – office-bound, of course – before he goes,’ Dr Eris said. ‘He’s an intelligent chap. He needs to have an aim. A purpose. Or he’ll be back here before we know it.’
Dr Parker nodded. Psychologists like Claire got a bad press, but they too were quietly saving people’s lives, just as he and his fellow surgeons were, only in a different way.
‘So, where are you off to?’ Dr Eris asked. ‘I’m guessing you’ve not got the night off?’
‘Well, actually I have. The op I was down to do has just been cancelled – or rather, put back.’
‘Clinical or other?’ Dr Eris asked.
‘Clinical. His pre-op assessment has shown up a few concerns. Slight respiratory infection. The anaesthetist doesn’t want to take the chance.’
Dr Eris thought for a moment.
‘I’m off at seven this evening …’ She moved a little closer to Dr Parker to make way for a porter pushing a patient on a stretcher. ‘As we’re both feeling like we need a little respite, why don’t we escape for a few hours and go and refuel down at the Albion?’
‘The Albion?’ Dr Parker said. Why was he stalling? Why shouldn’t he go for a drink?
‘All right then.’ He smiled. ‘The Albion it is. For a few hours’ R & R. Respite and refuelling.’
Dr Eris had to suppress her excitement. She had been trying to work out how to get John out for a drink on his own for a while now.
‘That’s a date then,’ Dr Parker said. He was about to correct himself – explain that he didn’t mean this was a date as such – but stopped himself. Would it be so bad if it was?
‘See you there at eight then?’ Dr Eris started to walk away. ‘I look forward to it.’
Gloria pushed herself out of her chair and went over to Helen and gave her a big hug. ‘This is awful, really awful. I’m so sorry.’
Helen allowed herself to be hugged; it still felt a little alien to her, but she was slowly getting used to it.
‘It’s poor Bel and Pearl I feel sorry for,’ she said. ‘I know Pearl’s not the most likeable person, but I felt so sad for her. Her face when she told me …’ Helen shivered. ‘It was like a part of her was dead.’
Gloria picked up the pot of tea, which was now cold, and went into the kitchenette to put the kettle on.
‘Pearl’s got good people around her.’ She walked back to the kitchen doorway and looked at Helen. ‘Her life’s probably better than it’s ever been. She adores Bel. And Maisie. She’s got a good home. Secure, with people who care. She’ll never go cold or hungry. And she’s got a job that suits her down to the ground. She can keep herself topped up with Scotch most of the day and get paid for it.’
Helen grimaced. ‘I know. She likes her whisky, doesn’t she? She was knocking them back when I was there.’
‘I think that’s always been Pearl’s way of coping,’ Gloria said, turning back and filling the pot with boiling water. ‘Probably always will be.’
She walked back into the lounge with the tea.
‘It’s you I worry about,’ she said, looking at Helen. ‘This is a lot for you to take on board.’
Helen poured tea into their cups, added milk and stirred.
‘It must be …’ Gloria thought for a moment. ‘It must be very disturbing for yer to know this about yer grandfather. Someone you’ve known ’n loved all of yer life.’
Helen took a sip of her tea. It felt warm and comforting. As it did being here with Gloria.
‘To be honest, it’s not really sunk in,’ she said. ‘When we were chatting in the pub, I was thinking how Grandfather’s always had the glad eye for young blondes. He’s never really tried to hide it. He makes jokes about it. Or at least I thought they were jokes. I never really took it seriously. Him being so old. It’s that typical thing, isn’t it? Old bloke looking at some pretty young filly and wishing he was a younger man.’
Helen shivered again as she thought of Pearl being a pretty young thing.
Gloria sat back on her little two-seater settee. She had been truly shocked by what Helen had told her this evening, although she had tried not to show it, or how angry she felt.
‘And he’s a widower,’ Helen said. ‘So it sort of made it all right if he was a bit lecherous.’
‘When did yer nan die?’ Gloria asked.
‘I’m not entirely sure. I was only a baby, so a good twenty years or so ago.’ Helen looked at Gloria. ‘That’s what makes this even worse, if that’s at all possible. My grandmother was still alive when Grandfather did what he did to Pearl. Makes me feel sick.’
‘Do you think yer mam knows? About Bel? About what yer grandda was like?’ Gloria asked tentatively. Talking about Miriam to Helen was like dropping a spark into a tinderbox: guaranteed to make Helen’s anger and resentment towards her mother ignite.
‘Mother wouldn’t know or care.’ Helen’s face hardened. ‘If it doesn’t concern her, she doesn’t give two figs.’
She took a sip of her tea and was quiet for a moment.
‘I don’t think she knows about Bel, though. I would have seen it when the two of them met. I doubt she knew what Grandfather was really like. She and Aunty Margaret weren’t at home that much when they were growing up. They only seemed to come back during the holidays – and even then they often stayed with friends.’
Gloria thought about what Helen had told her about her nana and wondered if perhaps she hadn’t been as mad as she’d been made out to be. Keeping her pretty, young, blonde daughters away at boarding school – away from their father – might actually have been an incredibly sane and sensible move.
‘You won’t breathe a word of this to Dad, will you?’
‘Not if you don’t want me to,’ Gloria agreed.
‘Or anyone?’ Helen looked embarrassed. ‘I know you’re about as far removed from a gossip as anyone can get, but I have to make sure, for Bel’s sake – and Pearl’s. They’ve said it’s fine to tell you. Bel knows how close we are. But they’ve both begged me not to tell another living soul. At least for the time being. Bel hasn’t even told Polly yet.’
‘Really? That surprises me. I thought them two told each other everything.’
‘I know, I was surprised as well.’ Helen thought for a moment. ‘Bel said that the time’s never been right, but I think there’s more to it.’
Gloria gave Helen a questioning look.
‘I’m not sure, but there’s a part of me wonders whether she feels shame,’ Helen mused.
‘But it’s not her fault, is it?’ Gloria said.
‘I know, but I can understand why she might feel like that. I know it’s not quite the same for me, but I feel ashamed.’
Another puzzled look from Gloria.
‘For being related to someone like that,’ Helen said. ‘For being related to a monster. I have a monster as a grandfather. Bel has a monster for a father. And whether we like it or not, we both have that monster’s blood coursing through our veins.’