I said as much to Elly, turning my screen so she could see the entry.
‘Maybe she was a family friend or a godmother or something,’ I said. ‘There has to have been a link.’
‘So why would Lil go with her?’ Elly asked.
I tapped my fingers on my desk, thinking. ‘My great-grandfather served in World War One,’ I said. ‘Had a tough old time of it I think. The way Dad and Lil tell it, sounds like he had shell shock.’
Elly made a face. ‘Poor bloke,’ she said.
‘Perhaps another war was too much for him and he had a bit of a breakdown.’
It was something we’d come across more than once in all of our research – the men who’d come home from the trenches reacting badly to the outbreak of another war.
‘Maybe he was taking up all my great-grandmother’s time and energy,’ I said. ‘And Lil went with Grandma so she could help her when she had the baby, and Grandma could keep an eye on her in turn.’
Elly nodded. ‘Makes sense,’ she said. ‘What will you do next?’
I thought for a moment. I had lots of things I could do. I could find my father’s birth certificate, which I didn’t remember ever seeing. I could find out more about Jemima Thorogood, or her dead husband Donald. I could have a look at my great-grandfather’s records from the First World War and see if I could discover anything that would have left him shell-shocked and unwell. I could try to find out some more about Fairbourne in Kent during the war to see if it was under the flight path of the planes heading to bomb London, or I could research Kelso to see if there were any local history records that mentioned a link to my great-grandparents, or Ruth and Lil, or Jemima. I could check the RAF bases for any that were located near Kelso that might have inspired Lil’s choice to join the ATA Girls.
I had lots of different paths I could follow and any one of them could lead to me finding out the truth about what happened to Lil later on in the war. But, slightly hating myself, I didn’t do any of them. Instead I sent Jack a message telling him I’d found out some interesting info about Lil and I wasn’t sure what to do next. I told him I’d value his opinion and that perhaps when he got back to London we could meet up to chat it through.
‘I’m pathetic,’ I said, pressing send.
‘Totally,’ said Elly cheerfully. ‘But he’s worth it.’
Almost straight away my phone buzzed with a reply.
‘Exciting!’ it said. ‘At JFK on my way home. Can we meet tomorrow? Or the next day? Jx’
I read it out to Elly and she high-fived me.
‘See?’ she said. ‘Worth it.’
‘I’m basically pretending not to know how to do my job, and risking upsetting my favourite auntie just to get close to a slightly chaotic actor,’ I said.
‘And to help your dad,’ Elly said.
I nodded.
‘And Jack is not just a slightly chaotic actor, he is a completely hot actor,’ she added. ‘Who is totally into you.’
‘I suppose …’
‘It’s worth it,’ Elly said firmly. ‘You know I’m right.’
I grinned. ‘I know,’ I said.
‘Helena?’ I jumped as Fliss appeared behind my desk. ‘Can I have a quick word?’
I raised my eyebrows at Elly as I followed Fliss into her office and sat down.
‘How is the Lady Jane Grey research going?’ she said.
I felt a pang of guilt. I knew I hadn’t been giving it the attention it deserved.
‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘I’m waiting to hear back from a Tudor historian from Oxford.’
That was true but there was plenty I could have been doing in the meantime.
‘And Jack Jones?’ she said.
My heart thumped simply at the mention of his name. ‘Erm, yes. Not bad,’ I said. ‘I’ve handed over the stuff about his great-grandfather to Percy …’
Percy was our First World War specialist. He’d go through all the information about the Somme that I’d found and take things from there.
‘And his grandfather?’
‘He was in the ATA,’ I said, hoping I didn’t look as guilty as I felt.
‘Interesting?’
‘Actually, really interesting.’ Now I didn’t have to lie – it truly was fascinating. ‘He was one of very few men who were in the ATA. It was mostly women.’
Fliss smiled. ‘Great,’ she said. ‘That’s a nice angle. How come his grandfather joined up then?’
‘He was too short-sighed to join the regular RAF,’ I said.
‘Christ.’
I chuckled. ‘I know, right.’
Fliss smiled again. ‘Sounds like you’re on top of things,’ she said. ‘I was just worried you’d seemed a bit distracted and I wanted to check everything was going okay?’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I had a bit of family stuff happening but everything’s fine.’
‘Dora okay?’
‘She’s great,’ I said.
‘Good,’ Fliss said. ‘It was nice to meet your dad the other day.’
I gave her a tight smile, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more. ‘He said the same,’ I said.
‘Just shout if you’ve got too much to do,’ Fliss said. ‘I can always take some research off your hands.’
‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ I said. ‘But thanks.’
Fliss nodded at me and I scarpered back to my desk, my cheeks flaming. Did this mean she was keeping an eye on me? I knew I had to be careful if there was a chance she could look at my searches. While my family were supportive and Miranda had taken me in when I was pregnant and homeless, I couldn’t rely on them being a safety blanket forever. I was, after all, a grown-up woman in my thirties with a child to support. This job was really, really important for me and for Dora and I couldn’t risk losing it.
Chapter 21
Lilian
September 1939
Time was passing and I knew I had to do something but I had no idea what. I lay in bed at night, sleep eluding me, wishing I didn’t exist. There was no way out, as far as I could see. I even thought about taking my own life, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. Or what the consequences would be if I failed. Instead, I simply carried on, going through the motions of everyday life.
In many ways, everyone was doing the same thing. I was carrying on despite my condition, and England was carrying on despite the war. In fact, not much had changed since war had been declared almost three weeks ago. Some people – Mr Vincent from the post office and Albie, the butcher’s son – had volunteered to be air raid wardens and been given tin helmets. But after the first few nights when they officiously patrolled the village after dark, they put their helmets aside again. The war didn’t seem real, though we knew things were happening in Europe. My father listened to every news bulletin and read the newspaper from cover to cover every day. And then Bobby got his call-up papers.
He was told to report for his induction at RAF Uxbridge at the beginning of October, which meant he had two weeks left at home. Lots of the men in the village were going. A few to the RAF like Bobby, two brothers to the navy, and the rest into the army. The call-up papers were coming thick and fast. So Marcus the postman told me as I walked to catch the school bus one morning. He had a sheaf of letters in his hand and he waved them at me.
‘Your brother’s going to have some company,’ he said.
I looked at the envelopes without interest. I had blocked out the thought of Bobby leaving, just as I was blocking out everything else.
‘Couple going to the air force, so they’ll be with your Bobby,’ Marcus was saying. ‘But most of these are army papers.’
He leafed through them.
‘I’ve got one here for Paul Benjamin, another for his brother – their mother will be upset to have them both go so early – one for Ian Mayhew, one for Gerry Carter …’
‘What did you say?’ I wanted to be sure I’d heard correctly.
‘Gerry Carter?’ he said, giving me a quizzical look.
I wanted to grab
him and shake him. ‘Before that.’
‘Ian Mayhew,’ he said. ‘And the Benjamin brothers.’
But I was off, racing to the Mayhews’ house. I’d spent the last few weeks avoiding Mr Mayhew, but suddenly I knew that if he was going to join up, then I had to tell him. I had to tell Mr Mayhew that I was expecting his baby. He was, after all, what I considered a grown-up whereas I was most definitely not. He would know what to do. He would make all this horrible torment go away.
I ran through the village and up the path to the Mayhews’ house, then I hammered on the door. Mr Mayhew answered, looking grumpy.
‘Lilian,’ he said. ‘What’s the emergency?’
‘You volunteered,’ I said breathlessly. ‘Marcus has your papers.’
Mr Mayhew glanced behind him nervously. ‘Winifred is here,’ he said. ‘Let’s walk.’
He went back into the house, and I heard murmured voices from the kitchen, then he came back out with his jacket over his arm, and shut the front door behind him.
‘Bus stop?’ he said.
I shook my head. I couldn’t go to school, not now.
‘Church hall, then,’ he said. ‘You can play me something on the piano.’
Obediently, I started walking towards the centre of the village. I longed to take Mr Mayhew’s hand, and wondered what he would do if I did. Then his fingers brushed mine and I recoiled. What was wrong with me? I was a swirling mess of confusion at every turn.
‘Where have you been?’ Mr Mayhew asked, as we walked.
I shrugged. ‘School,’ I said. ‘Home. Dad’s not taking things very well.’
‘Did your brother join up?’
I nodded. ‘RAF.’
Mr Mayhew breathed in. ‘I’m joining the army,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure if they’d take me. I’m almost thirty, after all.’
‘They probably need all the help they can get, even from old men,’ I said, viciously, wanting to wound. He didn’t react.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. ‘I will miss you when I go. Will you write?’
I shook my head, turning my face away from him so he wouldn’t see that I was crying.
We were close to the church hall now and I could see a group of elderly ladies heading inside. We couldn’t chat if they were there.
I veered off the pavement and into the churchyard. After a second, Mr Mayhew followed me. I perched on a bench under a tree and he sat next to me.
‘I expect they’ll need more space in here,’ I said, gazing at the rows of graves. ‘Once the fighting starts properly. Lots of men won’t come home alive.’
I didn’t know what I was doing. Why was I saying such terrible things?
Beside me, Mr Mayhew flinched. ‘What’s going on, Lilian?’ he asked. ‘What’s the matter?’
I pulled the end of my plait over one shoulder and held on to it tightly, as though it might bring me luck.
‘I’m pregnant,’ I said. It was the first time I’d said the words. ‘I’m having a baby.’
I started to cry, trying to get the words out between gasping sobs.
‘And I thought you should know, because of the war. You might not come home. But you should know. I wanted to tell you. And I don’t know what to do.’
I looked up at Mr Mayhew, desperate for some words of comfort. Aching for him to take me in his arms and tell me things were going to be all right, that he’d look after me now. That somehow we could make this work. That I wouldn’t bring shame on my parents, and break Ruth and Bobby’s hearts, and watch my whole life – my hopes and dreams of being a musician – crumble into the dust.
But he didn’t. He sat, straight-backed, on the bench and watched me cry. As I gathered myself, and my sobs grew less frequent, he stared straight ahead. A muscle flickered in his cheek but otherwise he was perfectly still.
‘What does this have to do with me?’ he said.
My head spun. What did he mean? ‘The baby?’ I babbled. ‘The baby is yours.’
Mr Mayhew glanced at me in disdain. ‘So you claim,’ he said. ‘But I would be a fool to believe anything a little slut like you says. Wouldn’t I?’
Completely wrong-footed by his reaction, all I could do was stare at him, open-mouthed.
‘You girls, you’re all the same. Giving me the big eyes, and the little laughs. Pressing your bodies up against me when I’m just trying to show you how to play a piece correctly. And then pretending it’s a surprise when I respond. Like you don’t want it.’
He turned to face me. ‘You wanted it,’ he spat. The fury in his expression made me shrink back against the bench.
‘Girls?’ I whispered. ‘Girls?’
I’d thought I was special. That we’d had something precious. But had I – all along – just been one of many?
Mr Mayhew stood up and brushed invisible dust from his trousers. I had a feeling he was actually brushing me off, rather than any dirt. Perhaps that was how he saw me – as a speck of dust to be removed from his life.
‘This has nothing to do with me,’ he said coldly. ‘Please stay away from me and my wife. I don’t want her upset when I’m leaving so soon. If you come near us, I will inform the police.’
He walked away through the churchyard, without looking back. Dizzy and nauseous, I tried to follow but found myself doubled over as my stomach cramped and I vomited bile – I’d barely eaten for days so there was nothing to bring up.
‘Mr Mayhew,’ I croaked, but he was gone.
Scared and feeling more alone than I’d ever been before, I staggered in the direction of the road, using the gravestones as support. The stone was cold against my hot hands. My stomach was twisting and I had to stop to retch again before I made it on to the street.
I looked in both directions, but I couldn’t see any sign of Mr Mayhew. He must have walked home even faster than his usual brisk pace. I didn’t know where to go. Sweat beaded my forehead, and my stomach was sore. I couldn’t go to school in this state and I didn’t want to go home and face my mother’s questions and my father’s gloomy face. I’d go to see Ruth, I decided.
Slowly, holding on to the fence to help me stay upright, I walked past the church hall. One of the women we’d seen earlier – an elderly lady who knew my mother from the Women’s Institute – was coming out of the door. She saw me and called my name.
‘Lilian,’ she said. ‘Why aren’t you at school? Are you ill?’
I turned towards her and she gasped.
‘Oh, my dear girl,’ she said. ‘You look terrible. Shall I fetch your mother?’
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I just need to lie down.’
And then the ground came up to meet me and everything went black.
Chapter 22
‘Lilian, can you hear me?’
I opened my eyes. My head ached and I couldn’t make out what I was seeing. Shapes loomed over me. I shut my eyes again.
‘Lil, open your eyes.’
This time I recognised the voice. It was Bobby.
‘Bobby,’ I said.
‘I’m here.’ Someone – Bobby, I supposed – took my hand. ‘Ruth’s here too. And the doctor.’
I blinked as the room came into focus. I was in Ruth and Bobby’s lounge on the settee with a blanket over me. Bobby was sitting next to me, Ruth behind him, and Dr Gilbert was hovering by the door.
‘Food,’ Dr Gilbert said. ‘Proper meals, lots of sleep and a bit of TLC. I’ll come back later to check on her.’
‘Thanks, Doctor,’ Ruth said. She followed him out of the room and I heard muffled conversation and then the front door opened.
‘What happened?’ I said to Bobby, though I was beginning to remember. ‘I fainted.’
Bobby looked sombre. ‘You fainted at Mrs Elliott’s feet,’ he said. ‘Gave her quite a shock. Why weren’t you at school, Lil?’
I wriggled on the settee so I could sit up a bit. ‘Had something to do,’ I muttered.
Ruth came back into the room and sat down on the floor by my head. She stroked my h
air gently. I saw her exchange a look with Bobby and it made me nervous.
‘Lilian,’ she said carefully. ‘Mrs Elliott said you were clutching your tummy before you passed out.’
I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to look at her.
‘Dr Gilbert examined you, to check you didn’t have appendicitis,’ Ruth carried on.
I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter.
‘Lilian,’ she said. ‘Dr Gilbert thinks you’re expecting a baby.’
Her voice shook a bit on the last word and I felt her hand, still resting on my head, tremble.
Bobby took over. ‘Tell us the truth, Lilian,’ he said. ‘We can help you.’
I shook my head, eyes still tightly closed, and a tear dripped down on to the cushion beneath my head. ‘I can’t,’ I whispered. ‘I can’t.’
‘Darling girl, you can tell us,’ Ruth said. ‘We’re your family and we love you. But we can’t help you unless you tell us what’s happened.’
‘Are you hungry?’ Bobby said suddenly. ‘You’re so thin, and Dr Gilbert thinks you’ve not been eating properly. How about some toast and a cup of tea, and we can have a proper chat about all this. Get it all sorted out.’
Suddenly I realised I was absolutely ravenous. I opened my eyes. Bobby and Ruth were both bent over me, their faces worried. I threw myself into Bobby’s arms and hugged him tight.
‘Help me,’ I begged him. ‘Please, please help me.’
And he did.
First, he made me some toast and a pot of tea and Ruth helped me sit up on the couch with the blanket over my legs like an old woman. And then, once I’d eaten and drunk, and I felt a bit better, though still very shaky, they each sat on either side of me and held my hands.
‘Are you pregnant?’ Ruth said.
I nodded my head. ‘I think so,’ I said.
She bit her lip. ‘How far along?’
I looked up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know,’ I whispered. ‘I’m not sure how you tell. But I think maybe three months? Four, perhaps?’
Ruth breathed in sharply and I thought perhaps her last pregnancy would have been the same, if she’d not started bleeding. How unfair the world was. How awful and unfair.
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