by Nancy Revell
Why the change of perspective? She was unsure. Perhaps it was because previously she had been blinded by the traumas she had been going through, as well as by her mother’s words, which had convinced her she was ‘sullied’. Perhaps she now knew that John did not view her, or any woman who had been with another man outside of marriage, as second-hand goods. Perhaps she no longer saw herself as less than.
Or had her change in thinking come from the time she was spending with her grandmama? The books and poetry they read and discussed – and their many conversations about love.
As she glanced to her left, she caught sight of the long stretch of Hendon beach, with its dark wooden breakers, visible due to the low tide. She wished that Henrietta had been a part of her life when she was growing up. She would have loved to have been shown a different view of the world than the one her mother had instilled in her. For Miriam, looks, status, money and social standing came first, whereas her grandmother was the opposite. Henrietta’s focus was on the mind – not just her own, but on the thoughts and opinions of others, those she came into contact with, and those she read about. Her looks were about expressing her individuality, and, unlike Miriam, she believed passionately that all men and women were equal.
As Helen turned right and drove past the village green and the old post office, she knew what her grandmother would say if she was chatting to her now. She would say that Helen should not look back in regret – nor wish that her life had been any different. Life, Henrietta would say, should be lived in the present – which was why she was about to do something she should have done a long time ago.
Dr Parker sat back in his chair. Helen’s message had sounded very cryptic. An ‘emergency’, but not a bad one by the sounds of it, just news that needed to be imparted as a matter of urgency, although why the urgency, he was unsure. Dr Parker combed his mop of fair hair back with his fingers, then looked up at the clock above the door. He’d quickly check on his new recruits and then head over to the canteen. He could get a pot of tea ready for Helen’s arrival. It would also give him time to think. Something he’d been doing a lot of lately.
When Helen pulled up outside the Ryhope Emergency Hospital, she quickly flicked the visor down and checked herself in the small mirror. She pushed it back up and took a deep breath. She was nervous but also incredibly excited. Telling John how she felt about him – how she had always felt about him – was daring and she risked being rejected, but that didn’t matter any more. She just wanted to unburden herself to him. To open her heart and tell him of her love for him. If he didn’t want her love, then that would be fine too. Of course, she’d be heartbroken, and probably more than a little embarrassed, but at least, finally, it would be out in the open.
Helen stepped out of the car and started walking towards the entrance. Hurrying up the stone steps, she suddenly felt impatient. She couldn’t wait to see him. To tell him the truth.
She pulled open the main door – but came to an abrupt halt.
‘I’m so sorry!’
She had come face to face with Dr Eris.
Damn! The last person she wanted to see.
‘Dear me, Helen. You’re charging in here like a steam train. Is everything all right? You look very flustered?’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ said Helen. She stepped to the side so as to slip by, but found the way blocked as Claire niftily stepped to the side too, preventing her from entering the main foyer.
‘I’m just meeting John in the canteen,’ Helen said, making a point of looking at her watch as though she was running late.
‘Well, then,’ Dr Eris said, making no attempt to move, ‘I’ve caught you at the right time.’
Helen looked at her nemesis, whose mouth was stretched into a taut smile. Her eyes were glistening with what looked like malice.
‘I think we need to have a talk before you have your “emergency” chat with John in the canteen,’ Dr Eris said, throwing her arm out towards the bench by the side of the entrance.
Helen glanced through the open door and saw Denise, who looked away as soon as she caught her eye. Was that guilt she saw on her face? Had Denise told Claire that Helen was meeting John?
Helen turned and walked back down the stone steps and over to the bench. The sun was shining. Squinting in the light, she watched as Dr Eris sat down next to her.
‘Well, isn’t this dandy,’ she said, looking at Helen and smiling. ‘I’m just so glad I caught you in time.’
Helen was feeling more uncomfortable by the second.
‘Claire, if you’ve got something to say, can you make it quick, I really am in somewhat of a rush.’
‘Clearly,’ Dr Eris said. She smiled. ‘As you wish. I’ll get straight to the point.’
Helen thought Claire looked like the cat that had got the cream. Totally self-satisfied.
‘I know who Miss Girling really is,’ Dr Eris said simply.
Helen blinked. Her words felt like an affront. And they were totally unexpected. She had thought she was going to say something about keeping away from John; never in a month of Sundays had she expected this to be about her grandmother.
‘What?’ Helen asked, looking confused, playing for time.
‘I think you know “what”,’ Dr Eris said. ‘Miss Henrietta Girling is not just some “distant elderly relative”, as you claim. Or a great-aunty as your mother claims. No. Miss Henrietta Girling is in fact Mrs Catherine Henrietta Havelock … Mr Charles Havelock’s wife … Your mother Miriam’s dear mama. Your grandmother.’
Helen felt a wave of panic hit her. She fought to keep her demeanour impassive.
Dr Eris sat back a little to observe Helen’s reaction more closely. There was no denying she’d caught her off guard.
‘What makes you think that?’ Helen asked, furrowing her brow to give the appearance of confusion. She was hoping that Claire was hedging her bets and that she simply suspected this was the case – that she was guessing and trying to get it confirmed by catching Helen out.
‘Helen, my dear, I would never dream of sitting here and saying this to you unless I had proof.’ She dug in her pocket and pulled out a piece of creased yellow paper. Dr Eris straightened it out. Helen could see the writing was old-fashioned, with elaborate swirls and loops.
‘It took me a while to get this – many hours, many boring hours, of looking through a stack of dusty old files buried away in the dank basement of the asylum. But I got there in the end. It was worth all the hard work.’
She handed the document to Helen.
A quick glance showed it was an admissions report. The ornate handwriting made it hard to read, but she could clearly see her grandmother’s name, along with the date of her admittance and insanity and deliriums clearly noted as the reasons for her confinement. As she scanned down the document, she saw her grandfather’s signature.
‘It wouldn’t be the first time a wife was dumped in a sanatorium for the insane because her husband wanted shot of her,’ Dr Eris said. She dug into her other pocket and pulled out another document. Helen saw that it was a replica of the first one, only with the name changed.
‘The first should have been destroyed. If you’re going to do a job, then do it properly, that’s what I say.’ She smiled. ‘But lucky for me, they didn’t.’
Helen looked at Dr Eris. She had felt a slight twinge of guilt beforehand about going to see John with the aim of taking him away from Claire. Of stealing him off her. Now she realised she would be doing him a favour. A huge favour.
‘You’re wondering what it was that piqued my interest, aren’t you?’ Dr Eris asked, not waiting for an answer. ‘It took me a while to suspect foul play, but something just kept niggling me. Before you started to visit dear Henrietta, your mother had been quite vocal in her refusal to take her “great-aunty” out on day trips. That had always struck me as being odd. Most people would jump at the chance of getting their loved ones out – even if it was just for the day. But of course, your mother wouldn’t have risked someone recognising dear Henr
ietta, would she?’ Dr Eris paused. ‘Especially as I believe the story peddled out when your grandmother was incarcerated was that the poor woman had died of some tropical disease while out in India.’
Helen thought of her grandmother, locked up because she was going to hang her husband out to dry, having found out the man she had married was a monster – a monster who raped young girls. Young girls like Pearl and poor Grace, who had been found hanging from the bannisters. Helen could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Part fear. Part anger. She looked at Claire – she was enjoying this.
‘And then I thought about your grandfather. How can anyone forget the money he has ploughed into the asylum – there’s a plaque out front to remind everyone, should they forget. And that’s when I put two and two together. His purported philanthropy was in reality him buying the silence of the powers that be.
‘But to be honest, none of this really bothers me at all. What matters to me is it has given me something over you.’
Helen looked at Claire, and it was then that the penny dropped, hard and resoundingly.
‘Let me guess,’ Helen said. ‘This is really all about John?’
‘You are clever, my dear.’ Dr Eris’s tone was truly patronising. ‘What is it people say – brains as well as beauty?’
Dr Eris shuffled in her seat so that she was staring at Helen. ‘Which brings me to the crux of the matter.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘If you really do have brains, then you will back off and leave John well alone. And if he should ever express any kind of interest towards you, other than that of a brother or a platonic friend, then you are to knock him back and make a convincing show that your feelings for him are purely chaste – those of a good friend, a sister, and nothing more.’
She smiled at Helen.
‘And if you don’t, I will spill the beans. I will tell the authorities that we have a woman under our care who is not who she says she is. A woman who might well have been restrained under duress. But most of all, as I’m sure you are aware, Helen, your grandfather and the Havelock name will be destroyed. And as Mr Havelock’s granddaughter, your reputation will also be ruined. You’ll be tarnished with the same brush. You’re the same blood, after all. You’ll be stigmatised the rest of your life.’ Dr Eris paused. ‘I’ll have nothing to lose, so don’t doubt I won’t do it.’
Helen stared at Dr Eris. She really had no idea Helen didn’t give a fig about the Havelock name being dragged through the mud; wouldn’t care if she was also tarnished with the same brush – would, in fact, revel in seeing her grandfather get the comeuppance he deserved. He’d got away scot-free for too long. It had always irked her that her grandfather seemed to have an incredible capacity to glide through life without having to suffer any kind of punishment for what he’d done. For ruining the lives of those who had fallen prey to his perversions.
How Helen wished she could tell Claire to go ahead, do it.
Helen would love to shout the truth out from the treetops. But, of course, she couldn’t. Nobody could. Her grandfather had made it more than clear that if the truth about Henrietta were ever exposed, he would wreak his revenge. He would ruin Pearl and everyone connected to her, for she had been the one who had threatened to tell the world about Henrietta’s incarceration if Jack were not allowed back.
And he would almost certainly go to the Borough Police and inform them that Maisie was a call girl and the house in West Lawn was a bordello, no doubt greasing as many palms as necessary to ensure Pearl’s daughter and all those she worked with had the book thrown at them. Bill would lose his licence, as the Havelock family had links with the town’s breweries, and Pearl and her new husband would be chucked out of their home. And God only knew what her grandfather would have in mind for Gloria, Jack and Hope – and the dire consequences for Dorothy, Angie and Martha. Helen dreaded to think what would happen if their secrets were revealed.
It was endless.
Helen looked at Dr Eris. She would have to do as she wished.
Dr Eris looked at her watch. ‘You’d better go and meet John at the canteen. He’ll be wondering where you are.’
‘You won’t win,’ Helen hissed, standing up. ‘John’ll see through you eventually.’
‘I don’t think he will,’ Dr Eris said, standing. ‘Not until he’s walked me down the aisle anyway and then, let’s face it, it’ll be too late.’
‘That’s if you get there. You might have fooled John so far, but he’s not stupid.’
Dr Eris laughed. ‘All men are stupid when it comes to women, Helen, surely even you must have realised that by now?’ She looked out at the landscaped grounds. ‘There’s only one obstacle that’s stopping John from dropping down on one knee at the moment, and that’s you. Once you’re out of the way, he’ll be proposing, mark my words.’
Helen shook her head.
‘My dear, I’m a psychologist, don’t forget. I can read people and John is pretty transparent. He loves me, but lately I can see that he’s been wondering if perhaps your feelings for him are more than those of a friend. I saw the change after that wretched wedding reception in the east end.’ Dr Eris pulled a face, showing her distaste at Pearl’s working-class wedding celebration.
Helen stared at the woman she had never liked, though she’d never really had a reason to dislike, other than an instinct that she was not all she seemed – and, of course, because she was dating John. Seeing her now – hearing the words coming out of her mouth, betraying the person she really was – she realised Claire was much worse than she’d imagined.
‘I think it might have been when he realised that you weren’t dating that shipyard manager. I think you might have said something to encourage him,’ she continued, her voice tempered with steel, ‘but whatever it might have been, that was the start of the change. It was then I knew I had to put a stop to it.’ She paused. ‘Especially, as I’m sure you’re well aware, as John’s been holding a candle for you for quite a while.’
Helen looked at Dr Eris, trying not to show that her words had shocked her. Claire clearly believed it was obvious that John was in love with her. Helen could have slapped herself. How had she not realised it herself?
A smile spread across Dr Eris’s face on seeing Helen’s look.
‘Oh dear, you didn’t know, did you?’ Dr Eris laughed cruelly. ‘I had wondered.’ Another sharp laugh. ‘A case of confident on the outside, but crippling insecurity on the inside. A woman who has everything but self-esteem. How very interesting. And how very fortunate for me.’
Helen clenched her hands. How ironic that it had taken Claire to confirm her growing suspicion that John loved her. And how heartbreaking that she’d realised too late.
‘And if I feel that Dr Parker is getting cold feet,’ Dr Eris said, smoothing her hand over her flat stomach. ‘There’s always the oldest trick in the book. Like I said, men really are quite stupid.’
Helen looked at this vile woman in front of her. The thought of Claire getting pregnant with John’s baby made her want to weep – just as much for John as for herself.
Dr Parker stirred the pot of tea and poured himself a cup. Helen was late, which he was glad of, as it had given him time to think. She clearly had something important to tell him, but he also had something important that he wanted to tell her – or rather to ask her. He had to know. Either way. And today was the perfect opportunity.
Looking up, he saw Helen walking through the entrance to the canteen, the door held open for her by one of the doctors. She smiled her thanks before scanning the room. As always, the sight of her took his breath away. She looked stunning in an olive dress that he had seen her in a number of times before and which never failed to raise his temperature.
Dr Parker stood up and waved across to her. She waved back and made her way over to the table. The canteen was only half full, but those who were there looked as Helen manoeuvred her way around tables to get to him.
‘Helen!’ He stepped forward to give her a kiss on the cheek, but instead she put h
er arms around him and gave him a long, tight embrace. She held on to him longer than normal.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked as Helen released herself and sat down at their table, reaching into her handbag for her packet of Pall Malls.
‘Oh John, it is,’ she lied. ‘It really is.’ Helen lit a cigarette and blew out smoke to the ceiling. She swallowed back angry tears and forced a smile on her face.
‘So, tell me, I’m dying of curiosity – what is the “emergency”?’ John asked.
‘It’s Peter. He’s alive!’ Helen declared. Tears stung her eyes, causing her vision to blur slightly. She didn’t stop them – couldn’t stop them – but knew at least they would be construed as tears of happiness.
‘Good God!’ Dr Parker said, automatically grabbing Helen’s hand. ‘This is incredible news!’
Helen stubbed out her barely smoked cigarette and put her hand on top of the hand of the man she loved. She held it firmly, enjoying his touch.
‘He got trapped under a bombed building,’ Helen said, knowing this would be John’s next question.
‘And he wasn’t injured?’
Helen smiled.
‘No, by all accounts he came out of it pretty much unscathed, although the details are sketchy.’
‘This is brilliant news. I’ll bet you Rosie doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going.’ Dr Parker had known of a few cases of wives and girlfriends who had believed the men they loved had been killed in action, only to receive a second telegram telling them otherwise. It was not an uncommon phenomenon of war.
‘Well,’ Helen let out a slightly strangled laugh, ‘she’s definitely going.’ She smiled, looking into Dr Parker’s brown eyes. ‘Going all the way to London to meet him today!’
‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books,’ Dr Parker said, holding Helen’s gaze. God, he could look into those emerald eyes until kingdom come. ‘I’ll bet you she’s walking on air.’
‘She was definitely floating when she came to tell me,’ Helen smiled. This time her happiness was genuine as she recalled Rosie’s face. It had been such a mix of emotions – euphoria, disbelief, shock and sheer joy.