The Hidden Women

by Kerry Barrett

  But Annie shook her head again. ‘That’s too risky,’ she said. ‘You need to stay far, far away from all this.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I want to be involved. Not straight away, obviously. I’ll leave it a few months.’

  ‘I’m sorry to say – and believe me, I really am sorry – that you being involved makes the chance of the whole thing being uncovered much more likely,’ Flora said. ‘Don’t you see?’

  I hung my head as the enormity of my confession finally hit home. ‘I do see,’ I said. ‘Of course, I see.’

  We were approaching the most remote hangar on the field, and outside was a pile of tarpaulins. I slumped down on the pile and put my head in my hands. ‘We can’t stay in touch, can we?’

  Flora and Annie both sat down next to me.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Annie said. ‘We have to decide, really.’

  ‘Choose between our friendship and the network?’ I said.

  Annie nodded, her lips tightly pinched together. ‘It’s not easy.’

  ‘Nothing ever is,’ I said bleakly.

  There was a pause as we all looked at each other.

  ‘We have to keep the network going,’ I said. ‘That’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Annie.

  ‘So do I,’ Flora added.

  ‘But I don’t like it,’ I said. I tried to smile but instead I felt the tears come again. ‘I don’t like it one bit.’

  I gripped Annie’s hand in one of mine and Flora’s in the other.

  ‘I’m very lucky that we met,’ I said. ‘Not just because of the network, though that’s been so important to me. But because of you and your friendship as well. And what Rose did was awful and mean-spirited and the worst of it is that she has made me lose you.’

  ‘Oh, stop it,’ said Annie. ‘You’re making me cry.’

  ‘I’ve never had friends like you two and I probably never will again,’ I carried on. ‘And I want you to promise that you will stay in touch on my behalf. So you’ll still be a gang of three, even though there will only be two of you.’

  Flora nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said in a squeaky voice.

  ‘Try to stop us,’ Annie added.

  We slung our arms round each other’s necks and hugged and cried a bit and then eventually I untangled myself and stood up, brushing the dust from my uniform skirt that I was about to take off for the last time.

  ‘I have to go,’ I said, swallowing yet another sob. ‘Look after each other.’

  ‘We will,’ said Annie.

  I blew them a kiss and then I walked away, without looking back.

  Chapter 48

  Helena

  August 2018

  I left it another two weeks to visit Lil. She was still under the weather, and I didn’t want to set her back. I’d phoned her, though, and told her Miranda had delivered the box and I had a plan.

  ‘What sort of plan?’ she’d said suspiciously and I’d told her I hadn’t worked it all out yet, but I would fill her in when I saw her.

  Greg and Kimberley had gone back to Canada, leaving – I was surprised to realise – a bit of a gap in our lives.

  Dora had enjoyed spending time with them and we’d arranged for Greg to FaceTime every weekend so she didn’t forget them. Canada was a very long way away for a two-year-old whose world didn’t extend much further than nursery and her grandparents’ house.

  I still wasn’t completely fine with Dora having what Miranda called a ‘Disney dad’. I’d raised my eyebrows questioningly when she’d called Greg that and she’d explained it was the term for a weekend father – who did all the good bits of parenting and not the drudge work.

  ‘I’m not sure Kimberley would let him get away with that,’ I’d said. I was slightly uneasy that she was the reason Greg had suddenly decided to play dad. I didn’t completely trust him to follow through, and I wasn’t convinced he would transfer to London, but for now, I was willing to give it a go. With a set routine in place, of course – my desire for stability in Dora’s life wasn’t going anywhere.

  I’d gone back to work. I’d been terrified on my first day back, but Elly had bought me a croissant for breakfast, and Fliss had landed me with three new families to research and I’d thrown myself back into things.

  And then I’d gone to her with an idea – something I was hoping to talk to Lil about later – and she’d loved it. I’d gone from the bottom of the heap to the top in no time at all. I found that bringing work home to do when Dora was in bed stopped me searching for Jack on showbiz websites, and stopped me thinking about him, and wondering what he was doing now.

  And so, as summer faded into autumn, Dora and I got on the train again and headed down to see Lil.

  I thought perhaps she looked a little frailer than before, but other than that she was in good spirits.

  ‘I’m so sorry about upsetting you,’ I said, giving her a hug.

  She’d smiled. ‘It’s hard to remember things you’ve tried very hard to forget, but I think Hugh is right and it’s always better to have it out in the open. A few months ago I’d have said that was nonsense, but it’s remarkable how much lighter I feel knowing you know what happened.’

  Dora was sitting on her lap, snuggling in to her. Lil wound one of Dora’s curls round her finger.

  ‘Was I right that your father pushed you into this?’ she asked.

  I bit my lip, and then nodded. ‘But don’t blame him,’ I said. ‘I understand the drive to know where you came from. I see it at work all the time. And Jack …’

  I trailed off. I didn’t want to talk about Jack right now.

  ‘Dad just wanted to know the truth,’ I said.

  ‘Have you showed him the box?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not yet,’ I said.

  ‘Down,’ Dora commanded. Lil let her slide off her lap, and I handed her the bag containing her ponies so she could get them out.

  ‘Dad still doesn’t know for sure,’ I said.

  ‘You didn’t tell him?’

  ‘It’s not my story,’ I said. ‘You just need to talk to each other.’

  ‘What on earth would I say?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t think it matters,’ I said. ‘I think he just wants to know.’

  Lil shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘What if he hates me for giving him away? What if it changes everything?’

  ‘He doesn’t hate you,’ I said.

  ‘If he’s suspected for a while, why didn’t he say anything?’

  ‘He was scared of upsetting you,’ I said. ‘And he was worried he might be wrong, so he didn’t want to just barrel in and ask if you were his mum. He thought you might be offended.’

  Lil looked down at her feet. ‘I have carried a lot of shame,’ she said. ‘And I know nowadays it doesn’t matter – having a baby out of wedlock.’

  I grinned. ‘Oh, believe me, there are still some people who like to judge,’ I said. ‘But you’re right, it doesn’t matter. I’ve felt a lot of things about having Dora, but shame isn’t one of them.’

  ‘I’ve carried it with me for eighty years,’ Lil said. ‘I’m not sure I can let it go now.’

  I felt my eyes fill with tears. ‘None of this was your fault,’ I said. ‘Your piano teacher was a bad man, who preyed on young girls. He groomed you, Lil.’

  She scoffed. ‘Groomed? There was no such thing back then.’

  ‘No, but the idea is the same. Befriending you, taking you to concerts, winning over your parents, and then …’

  ‘I thought I loved him,’ Lil said. ‘But I see now I was too young.’

  ‘It was rape,’ I whispered, hating the word. ‘He raped you.’

  Lil winced. ‘I know,’ she said.

  ‘But he didn’t break you, Lil.’

  She made a face that suggested I was wrong.

  ‘He didn’t. Look at your life. Look at your amazing, incredible life. Think about what you did in the war and the difference you made – you and all the ATA pilots. Lo
ok at the women you helped, and look at Dad; he adores you. And he told me how happy his childhood was, and how wonderful his parents were. You did that, Lil.’

  She nodded, slowly.

  ‘And Dad’s musical talent? He gets that from you.’

  ‘I’ve often worried that came from his father,’ she said. ‘Mr Mayhew, I mean.’

  I snorted. ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder if my life would have been different,’ Lil said. ‘If I hadn’t been on the move all the time. If I could have been the star of the show, rather than a session musician.’

  I didn’t say anything. I hated to hear she had regrets.

  ‘But then I remember what a wonderful time I had. The people I met, and the things I experienced.’

  ‘Did you ever meet anyone?’ I asked. ‘Did you have relationships?’

  ‘Men are trouble,’ she said.

  ‘They are,’ I agreed. ‘But not always.’

  ‘There were a few over the years,’ she said, her eyes thoughtful. ‘There was Philippe in Paris, who’d wooed me for months.’

  I smiled. ‘Go on,’ I said.

  ‘I have very fond memories of playing piano in a basement bar – ooh it must have been in the late 1950s. I was living in a top-floor apartment back then. There was no lift in the building, and I’d come home in the early hours of the morning to find Philippe asleep on the stairs, waiting for me.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ I asked, delighted at the idea of Philippe waiting on the stairs.

  Lil shrugged in a very Gallic fashion.

  ‘Things got serious, so I moved on.’

  ‘Was there anyone else?’

  ‘There was a chap called Marc who I met on one of the cruises I played on. We spent a lot of time together while we cruised round the Mediterranean, and when we disembarked I was rather sad.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We were both due to sail on the same cruise a few weeks later – and I got scared, so I changed my plans and went to work on a different ship instead. I never saw him again.’

  ‘That’s sad,’ I said.

  ‘It’s too late for regrets now,’ Lil said firmly. ‘It is what it is.’

  Dora was arranging all her ponies in a circle.

  ‘Are they dancing?’ Lil said.

  ‘They are chatting,’ said Dora. ‘They are a family.’

  ‘There’s a lot of them for one family,’ I said.

  Dora looked at me in disdain. ‘This family is different,’ she said.

  I laughed. ‘They all are,’ I said.

  ‘So tell me, what’s this plan of yours?’ Lil asked, watching Dora fondly.

  I paused. ‘I’m not sure if you’re going to agree but hear me out.’

  Lil looked suspicious so I jumped straight in.

  ‘I want to tell this story,’ I said. ‘Your story.’

  ‘About Robert?’ she said, looking alarmed.

  ‘No, the network,’ I said. ‘I want to find out what happened later and I want everyone to know about what you did.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Lil said. ‘We were breaking the law, and not just once, we were breaking it over and over again.’

  ‘I can find out for definite, but I’m pretty certain you wouldn’t get into trouble now.’

  ‘How would you do it?’ she said.

  I shook my head slowly. ‘I’m not completely sure,’ I said. ‘Sometimes the stories don’t really show themselves until we’ve started doing the research.’

  ‘Won’t you get into more trouble at work?’

  I grinned. ‘I’ve spoken to Fliss about it already,’ I said. ‘She loves the idea and she’s pitched it to the bigwigs. They’re keen too. I’ve been given one day a week to work on it – if you give me your blessing.’

  I paused. ‘I’ve learned my lesson, Lil,’ I said. ‘I’m not sticking my nose into someone else’s life without permission this time.’

  Lil patted my hand. ‘Do you know, Helena?’ she said. ‘I’d rather like that. I’d like to know what happened after I went to America.’

  I nodded. ‘Then that’s exactly what I’ll do,’ I said.

  Lil smiled. ‘Let’s make it quid pro quo.’

  I had no idea what she was talking about. ‘What do you mean? You don’t have to do anything for me.’

  Lil smiled again, a slightly mischievous grin that made her look much younger. ‘Oh I think I do,’ she said. ‘Wait and see.’

  Chapter 49

  Helena

  August – October 2018

  ‘He won’t go,’ I said to Miranda on the phone later. ‘I’ve asked him to go and speak to her, and he won’t.’

  I was tearing my hair out. I’d told Dad that Lil wanted to speak to him, but he was still digging his heels in.

  ‘I’m just going to leave it a few weeks,’ he said. ‘Let the dust settle.’

  ‘The dust won’t settle if you don’t let it,’ I said. But he wouldn’t budge.

  ‘I’ve had an idea,’ Miranda said. ‘I think we should have a party.’

  ‘What, like a “my great-aunt is really my granny” party?’ I said.

  ‘No.’ Miranda was exaggeratedly patient. ‘For Lil’s ninety-fifth birthday.’

  I sat up straighter. ‘That’s a brilliant idea. Would we have it at her place? They have parties in the lounge sometimes.’

  ‘I think we should have it at Mum and Dad’s,’ Miranda said. ‘Lil can stay over like she does at Christmas and we can just have a little do to celebrate her life. And Dad will have to talk to her because she’ll be in his house.’

  ‘Do you think Mum and Dad would mind?’ I said.

  ‘Mum’s already agreed.’

  ‘You’re amazing.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So, her birthday is the end of October, that gives us roughly two months to arrange it all. Is that enough time?’

  ‘Easy,’ said Miranda. ‘You do the guest list and the invitations, I’ll do catering, Mum can do decorations.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ I said. ‘What about presents?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Miranda. ‘That’s always tricky.’

  I smiled to myself. ‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘Leave that to me. I’ve got something up my sleeve.’

  ‘Really?’ said Miranda. ‘You know that makes me nervous.’

  ‘Just let me see what I can do,’ I said. ‘And then I’ll fill you in.’

  We ended the call, and I pulled my notebook over to where I sat on the sofa. I thought I could track down Annie and Flora, and anyone else I could find from the old days, and invite them along to Lil’s party. That was if they were still with us. She was a ripe old age, of course, and she’d been one of the young ones during the war.

  And so I threw myself into the research, working every evening after Dora had gone to sleep, checking birth certificates and marriage certificates, and speaking to women’s rights activists, and family planning experts, and eventually just a couple of weeks before Lil’s party, I found Annie.

  I rang her straight away and explained who I was, and what I wanted to do, and she sounded thrilled.

  ‘You’re Lil’s niece?’ she said. Her voice sounded young on the phone – I’d never have guessed her age if I hadn’t known.

  ‘I am. Well, great-niece. She asked me to find you.’

  ‘Well I never,’ Annie said.

  She lived with her daughter in Hastings, so I arranged to go down to see her the following day – fortunately it was my allocated research day and Fliss was pleased when I told her what I’d discovered.

  ‘Get some photos,’ she said. ‘See if she’ll go on camera.’

  ‘She might not be up for it,’ I warned. ‘She’s very old.’

  Annie, though, was delighted to talk. We sat in the sunny living room of her daughter’s big white-painted house, overlooking the sea. Her daughter – Val – made us tea and cut thick slices of homemade lemon drizzle cake.

  ‘How nice that you live with your daughter,’ I said.<
br />
  ‘Val’s husband died five years ago, and she and her daughter Penny bought this house together,’ Annie explained. ‘I moved in a short while after that. And Penny’s daughter Lucy is here too. She’s fourteen.’

  ‘Incredible,’ I said, grinning. ‘My daughter Dora – she’s nearly three – she says families are all different.’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Annie.

  I got out my notebook and told Annie about how Lil had told me her story – I missed out the bit where I researched it behind her back, and I didn’t mention my dad for now. And I explained what my job was, and how I was hopefully going to put together a documentary telling the women’s stories.

  ‘I think that’s a wonderful idea, Mum,’ said Val, who was in her late sixties or early seventies and looked just like Annie.

  ‘I’m a nurse,’ she told me. ‘At least I was. I’m retired now. I worked in obstetrics for years and the things I saw back in the Sixties. Dreadful business.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ I said.

  ‘I’d be honoured to help you with your programme,’ Annie said.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, touched that she was so keen. ‘But actually, that’s not the main reason I came.’ I reached into my bag, and pulled out an envelope. ‘I wanted to give you this.’

  Annie opened the flap and pulled out an invitation to Lil’s party. ‘A party,’ she said. ‘Oh how wonderful. I’d love to come.’

  ‘Val, you too,’ I said. ‘And bring Penny and her daughter as well, if they’d like to come.’ I looked at Annie. ‘It’s going to be a surprise,’ I said. ‘Lil won’t know you’re coming.’

  Annie clapped her hands in joy. ‘Marvellous,’ she said. ‘I love surprises.’

  I grinned at her. ‘Tell me everything,’ I said. ‘About the network.’

  ‘Do you know about Flora?’ Annie said.

  I nodded, sadly. ‘I found her death certificate,’ I said. ‘Breast cancer?’

  ‘Back in 1985,’ Annie told me. ‘I still miss her.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I said. ‘You were all such good friends.’

  ‘We carried on,’ Annie said. ‘With the network. In fact, after the war, we stepped it up a gear.’

  I scribbled frantically in my notebook. This was all amazing.