by Nancy Revell
She poured herself another cuppa.
‘It was bad enough the last war took her da. Poor bairn never even got to meet him. I know for a fact one of the reasons she started at that bloody yard was because she imagined her father would be proud of her.’
Tears pooled in her eyes. She put a finger and thumb under each eye to try and stop them.
‘My poor girl.’ Her voice was shaky. Tears started to run down her face. ‘I wish I could take the pain away, suffer it for her, but I can’t.’
‘She’s strong,’ Arthur said. ‘She’s like her ma. Tougher than she looks.’
Agnes shook her head. ‘I wish that were true, but she’s not. She tries to make out she is, but she’s not.’ Agnes dug around in her skirt pocket and pulled out a hanky. ‘When my Harry was declared missing, presumed dead, I was heartbroken. Devastated. But I had the bairns by then. I had to carry on. For their sake.’
Agnes wiped more tears away from her face.
‘God, I wish I hadn’t been so bloody pious and let her marry Tommy before he went.’
Arthur clasped his hands and was quiet. Grief seemed to come with so much guilt. He knew that well. Had suffered from it almost his entire life.
If.
If only.
If only he’d done different his own daughter might still be alive.
‘If I hadn’t been so set in me ways,’ Agnes lamented, ‘if I’d let them both just throw caution to the wind ’n get married, at least my girl would have been a wife, might well have started a family. Something to keep her going.’
Arthur listened.
‘I know Polly.’ Agnes looked at Arthur. ‘She’s so stubborn. So bloody single-minded. And she’s loyal. She won’t ever love again, you know.’
‘Aye, I know,’ Arthur agreed.
‘And that breaks my heart.’ Agnes was properly crying now, tears spilling down her face.
‘My beautiful girl, never being a wife, never having little ’uns of her own … This bloody war.’
Arthur let Agnes cry for a while and sat in silence.
After a while he spoke up.
‘Polly can’t do anything about this war, or about Tommy and what might or might not have happened to him, and yer right, if Tommy is dead, then I can’t see Polly ever marrying anyone else or having any bairns of her own.’
Agnes looked at the old man, her vision now blurred from the vestiges of her tears.
‘But she does have another love. A love I know you hate, but she does love them yards and it’ll be building ships that keeps her going. Polly’s never going to be the same – I think we both know that – but as long as she’s doing what she’s doing now, she’ll keep going. She’ll survive.’
Agnes hated to admit it to Arthur, or to herself, but she knew his words to be true.
As they both sat there in the quietness of the house, thinking their own thoughts, Agnes reflected on life’s irony. She had taken Arthur in thinking that she was doing him a favour after Tommy had gone to war and left him on his own. Yet it was Arthur who had become invaluable to them all, with his calm demeanour and wise words. They needed him far more than he needed them.
And the very shipyard that Agnes had feared would threaten the safety of her beloved daughter was now looking as though it might be the very thing to save her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thursday 10 September
‘Is that you, Helen?’
Miriam’s voice cut through the air as she shouted up the staircase.
‘Who else is it going to be, Mother?’
Miriam started walking up the first flight of stairs. ‘Well, it could have been the cleaner.’ She purposely kept her reply light and friendly.
‘At six o’clock in the evening?’ Helen, on the other hand, wasn’t in the mood for any kind of pretence, and didn’t try to mask her contempt.
‘Are you in your father’s room?’ Miriam was halfway up the stairs.
‘I am, Mother.’ Helen was standing in the middle of the back bedroom, arching her back. She’d thought you only got a bad back in the later stages of pregnancy, when you were hauling around the equivalent of a sack of coal.
‘What are you doing in there?’ Miriam finally reached the top of the stairs and could see Helen standing in the room ahead, hands on her hips. Her eyes fell to the pull of her skirt around her stomach. She wouldn’t be able to hide her condition for much longer.
‘Just having a little change around.’ Helen looked around the room. She had got their cleaner to strip the single bed and box everything up. Not that there was much to pack away. Her father was not one for possessions.
‘But this is your father’s room.’ Miriam was not happy to see the room bare. She wanted to keep up appearances.
‘It’s not as if he’s ever going to use it again, is it, Mother?’ Helen said, inspecting the empty wardrobe. ‘I mean, it’s not as if he’s ever coming back here to live.’ Helen closed the narrow wooden doors and turned the little key.
‘That might be true, but that’s no reason to have the room cleared.’ Miriam was genuinely perplexed.
‘Oh sorry, I should have told you.’
Helen turned and for the first time looked her mother in the eyes.
‘This is going to be the nursery.’
Miriam’s mouth dropped open.
‘What?’ Her voice was full of incredulity.
‘The nursery,’ Helen repeated. ‘I would have thought you’d realise the baby will need a nursery.’
Helen looked around the room again.
‘I’ve got it all planned in my head.’
Miriam heard her daughter’s words and knew she couldn’t put this conversation off any longer. Certainly not with the way Helen was starting to bust out of her clothes. She might be able to cover it up for a little while longer with the Utility-style skirts and jackets she had been wearing of late, but only for a few more weeks, at the most.
‘Darling,’ Miriam softened her voice and wiped the image of the nursery from her mind, ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something for a while.’ She turned towards the door. ‘Shall we go downstairs and have a drink?’
‘I think you’ve already had one, Mum,’ Helen said. ‘I can smell the gin on you from here.’
Miriam bit her tongue. She could not get riled or she’d never get Helen back onside. And more importantly, get her to agree to her plan.
‘If you want to chat to me, you can chat to me here.’ Helen walked over and sat on the bare mattress.
Miriam realised she wasn’t going to be able to loosen Helen up with a drink, or top herself up, so she went and sat down next to her daughter.
‘You’ve got me worried now,’ Helen said, leaning away from her mother as she spoke.
‘Darling,’ Miriam thought about taking Helen’s hand but decided against it, ‘your grandfather and I have been talking. And we really can’t believe that in all seriousness you intend to have an illegitimate child – to be an unmarried mother.’
Helen felt herself bristle. ‘You must know I’m never going to – how did you put it? Get rid of it.’
‘No, I know that, darling,’ Miriam said, her voice unusually calm. ‘But your grandfather and I thought that perhaps it would be a wise idea, and the right time – ’ Miriam’s eyes strayed down to Helen’s stomach ‘– for you to go away for a while.’
‘Go where?’ Helen asked, a quizzical look on her face. ‘Well, your grandfather and I thought that perhaps you might want to go and stay with your grandmother’s cousin.’
Helen looked at her mother.
‘What, the one who’s as mad as a hatter and lives in the middle of nowhere?’
‘Eliza’s hardly mad, darling. I think the word would be eccentric. And it’s not exactly in the middle of nowhere. Eliza’s got a wonderful, sprawling estate in the Ribble Valley. Near Clitheroe.’
Helen’s face became serious.
‘So, pray tell, what plan have you both concocted? You can’t exa
ctly send me abroad, so the next best option is to hide me away in the back of beyond, where no one knows me, with an ancient, eccentric, long-forgotten relative – and then what?’
‘Well, we thought that you could see out the rest of your term there – during which time an appropriate home could be found.’
Helen was quiet for a moment.
She nodded slowly, as though digesting the idea. Miriam felt her spirits lift.
‘And then, darling, you can come back here and pick up where you left off – go back to work at Thompson’s and do what you love. Your grandfather was telling me that he can see you’re going to go far. Rise in the ranks. Be the first woman to run a shipyard – in the whole of the country, never mind just in the north-east.’ This part of the argument Miriam thought was pure genius, although she had to admit that it had been her father’s very clever idea to persuade Helen to do what they wanted by focusing on her ambitions, feeding into what she loved the most – her work.
‘Mmm.’ Helen straightened her back as she made out she was contemplating the idea. ‘So, I go and stay with Eliza, where no one will know me. Obviously I wouldn’t really leave the estate. I know Clitheroe’s a lovely little town, but we wouldn’t want anyone to see me getting as big as a bus in case they found out who I was.’
Miriam felt like cheering. She knew she would be able to solve this problem. Just like she had solved the problem of Jack and his bastard child.
‘So,’ Helen continued, ‘I live like Rapunzel in her tower, not seeing anyone other than Eliza, of course, and her staff, who will all be sworn to secrecy – and naturally rewarded well for it.’
Miriam looked at her daughter and thought she had learnt more from her grandfather than she’d thought. Money, he’d always said, bought you anything.
‘And a new home will be found.’ Helen paused. ‘I’m wondering, though – what would be best? A poor unfortunate couple who can’t have their own children, like Aunty Marg and Uncle Angus.’ She paused again as though in serious thought. ‘Or a couple who have their own family but are more than willing to take on another child for a nice annual sum. An extra wage as such.’
‘Exactly!’ Miriam was finding it hard to contain her excitement. She couldn’t wait to pour herself a nice congratulatory gin and tonic.
‘What do you think, Mum?’ Helen asked. ‘A well-off but barren couple? Or a poor but ready-made family?’
‘Well, I’m not sure. I guess there are advantages to both,’ Miriam said. She really didn’t give two hoots. It’d be the local orphanage if she had a choice.
‘If I opt for the rich but childless couple,’ Helen mused, ‘I’m sure they would stipulate that once the baby is handed over, then that is the end of any future contact.’
Miriam nodded earnestly.
‘But if we go for the penniless but pre-made family,’ Helen continued, ‘then I would be able to dictate if I wanted to have contact, and how often, and because they were being paid, I would be able to wield that kind of control. Come and go as I pleased. If I pleased.’
‘Perhaps the childless couple,’ Miriam suggested. Out of the two this was by far the best option. A nice, clear-cut end to the whole sorry saga. Ideally, she didn’t want Helen having any contact with the child, just in case. Having said that, she was sure when Helen came back home she’d forget all about the baby. Would probably end up thanking her for making her see sense.
Helen stood up.
‘Come on, Mum, let’s go downstairs and get you that gin I know you’re secretly hankering after.’ Miriam couldn’t get up off the bed quickly enough. Within minutes they were in the front living room and Miriam was pouring herself a drink.
‘I’ll just have tonic, please,’ Helen said.
Having poured both their drinks, Miriam handed Helen her tonic water.
‘A toast then?’ Miriam said, raising her glass.
‘A toast,’ Helen agreed. ‘To the future,’ she added.
‘To the future,’ Miriam said, taking a large swig.
Helen put her drink down on the sideboard and made for the door.
‘You off out?’ Miriam asked, thinking about her own evening. Wait until she told Amelia. Her friend had been right. Helen mightn’t have been able to go ahead with the abortion, but she would jump at the chance of getting shot of it once she saw sense.
‘Not tonight,’ Helen said. ‘I thought I’d stay in and carry on sorting out the nursery. I’ve managed not only to get a decorator, but one who can actually get his hands on some paint. Quite a find, eh?’
Miriam looked totally perplexed.
‘What do you mean? I don’t understand,’ she asked, genuinely confused. ‘There’s obviously no need for a nursery now. Is there? Now that we’ve come to our decision?’
Miriam looked at her daughter standing in the doorway, smiling.
‘Oh, Mum, you’re just too easy.’ Helen laughed. ‘Gosh, and I used to think I was the gullible one in this house.’
She smiled.
‘You don’t seriously think I was going to go and live like a recluse for the next five months with a mad – sorry, eccentric – old woman, have my baby, and then farm the poor thing out to complete strangers?’
Helen chuckled again.
‘Honestly, you do make me laugh.’
She went to leave the room but stopped and turned towards her mother, who was standing there, speechless. Helen thought she reminded her of a waxwork model, standing so still, with her glass of gin and tonic held out in front of her, frozen in the moment.
‘You really don’t understand, do you?’ A small frown had appeared on Helen’s brow. ‘But I’m afraid you and dear Grandfather are going to have to understand.’
Helen took a deep breath.
Miriam was still rooted to the spot.
‘You are both going to have to realise that I actually want this baby.’
Helen paused, letting her words hang in the air.
‘I want this baby. And I’m going to have this baby. And there’s nothing you or Grandfather – or anyone for that matter – can do or say to stop me.’
As Helen walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, she heard the sound of her mother’s crystal tumbler being hurled across the room and smashing against the wooden panelling of the lounge door.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Friday 11 September
‘Did yer read about that place in Germany … Düssel—?’
‘Düsseldorf … Aye.’
The two riveters picked up their tin trays.
‘Gave Jerry a bit of their own medicine, eh?’
‘Aye, ’n about bloody time.’
The two workers scrutinised the menu board for a moment. ‘Sad news about Doris’s son, though.’
‘What? Yer missus’s sister’s lad? The one that’s in the navy?’
‘Aye.’
‘What about him?’
‘She got a telegram this morning. Declared him missing.
She was in a right state. Came round to see the wife. Inconsolable she was. Poor woman.’
Polly was standing behind the two men as they queued up for their lunch. On hearing this last part of their conversation, she turned, gave up her place in the long line of workers, and hurried out of the canteen.
When she walked back to her squad all sitting by the quayside eating their packed lunches, she saw Bel was there with Marie-Anne.
‘You all right?’ Bel asked quietly as Polly sat down next to her. Agnes had confided in her about Polly’s letter-writing, and she’d resolved to keep an even closer eye on her sister-in-law.
‘Yeh.’ Polly forced a smile.
‘I thought you were getting your lunch in the canteen today?’ Bel asked.
‘The queue was too long,’ Polly lied.
Bel gave Polly half her sandwich. ‘Don’t even bother arguing.’
Polly took the sandwich and forced herself to take a bite even though she didn’t feel hungry; hadn’t really felt hungry for wh
at seemed like a long time now.
‘So, come on, Bel. And you, Marie-Anne.’ Dorothy’s voice was loud, drawing everyone’s attention. ‘What’s all the gossip?’
‘Well, we put an order in for some new ribbons for the typewriters,’ Marie-Anne teased.
Dorothy sighed loudly.
‘Come on, there must be a few morsels you can feed us? Keep us all from dying of boredom here,’ she implored.
‘Well, you know Theresa?’ Marie-Anne said.
Everyone nodded.
‘The one who’s got even more children than Angie’s mam?’ Dorothy nudged her friend, who simply shook her head dismissively.
‘Well, she’s got another one on the way.’
‘Blimey, how many’s that now?’
‘I think this one’ll make it a dozen.’
‘Roman Catholic?’ Gloria asked.
Marie-Anne nodded. ‘Staunch.’
The women tried not to check out Bel’s reaction to the news; she was still looking as slim as a pin.
‘And how’s the witch?’ Angie asked.
‘Yeh, we’ve not seen hide nor hair of her lately,’ Martha chipped in, putting the lid back on her lunch box, now empty of its contents.
‘She looked a bit rough today, didn’t she, Marie-Anne?’ Bel said. ‘We reckoned she was either paying for a night on the town or had eaten something dodgy. She was as white as a sheet.’
‘And,’ Marie-Anne added, ‘when she was dictating a letter to me, she suddenly stopped and got up and started walking round with her hand on her back. I asked her if she was all right.’
‘What did she say?’ Gloria asked.
‘Oh, you know Helen,’ Marie-Anne said, ‘just snapped my head off. Said she was fine and to concentrate on my shorthand. Honestly, she’s been a right Jekyll and Hyde this past week. One minute as nice as ninepence, the next a bloomin’ nightmare.’
‘Nothing new there then,’ Polly said, forcing herself to take another bite of sandwich.
There was a general murmuring of agreement.