‘The adoptions had to stop after the war,’ Annie said. ‘The paperwork was getting too complicated. But we did advise women who wanted to have their babies adopted and we helped them find places to go if they wanted to have them in secret.’
‘Oh my,’ I said. ‘What about the other stuff?’
Annie lifted her chin, just a fraction, in pride. ‘By the Fifties we had women in almost every town in Britain. There were hundreds of us. Nurses, doctors, women like me – fixers, Flora called us – putting people in touch with people. But it wasn’t perfect. It was expensive still, and dangerous; things often went wrong, and lots of our contacts were arrested.
I shuddered. ‘Was Flora a fixer too?’ I asked. ‘Lil said she’d seen her on the news.’
Annie grinned. ‘Flora went legit.’
‘Legit?’
‘She studied law – in her own time, I mean; she didn’t go to university. And she became an adviser to the politicians who were campaigning for abortion to be decriminalised. After the law changed, she and I helped set up a chain of clinics. Giving family planning advice and doing terminations.’
‘Goodness,’ I breathed. ‘You should be so, so proud of yourselves.’
‘We’re proud,’ Val said. ‘Mum’s work influenced my career choice, and Penny’s too. She’s a doctor.’
‘Wonderful,’ I said.
‘Flora had a good lot of write-ups when she died,’ Annie said, proudly. ‘Obituaries in all the broadsheets. She even got a mention on Radio 4.’
I wrote that down too. I could track those down and use them. ‘What about other people who Lil might know?’ I asked. ‘Do you think we can find anyone else to invite to her party?’
‘She wouldn’t want them at the party, but I imagine she’d like to know what happened to Rose Smythe,’ said Annie thoughtfully.
‘The one who grassed her up?’ I said. ‘I’m definitely not inviting her.’
‘And Will Bates,’ Annie said. ‘I’ve often wondered what became of him.’
I scribbled a note to remind myself to look up what had happened to Rose and Will. ‘Did Flora have kids?’ I said. ‘We could invite them.’
‘Oh yes, three boys,’ said Annie. ‘I’ve got their details. I’ll write them down for you before you go.’
‘This is going to be such a lovely birthday present,’ I said.
‘I hope it’s not such a shock seeing me after all these years that she keels over,’ said Annie with a glint of mischief in her eye. ‘She’s no spring chicken.’
‘Mum,’ Val warned. ‘Don’t be cheeky.’
But I didn’t mind. I liked Annie enormously and as she told me more about what the network had achieved over the years, my admiration grew.
‘You should be given some sort of award,’ I said.
‘It all started because of Lil,’ she said modestly. ‘Back when we helped that very first woman, it was because of Lil. She said it was the right thing to do and that she was desperate.’
She looked up at me. ‘Flora and I always thought – though Lil never said – that she’d been in that position once and someone had helped her. And that was why she was so determined to help everyone we could.’ She paused. ‘Were we right?’
I smiled at her. ‘Lil will tell you everything when you see her,’ I said.
I gathered all my things, and we said our goodbyes. I was already looking forward to meeting Annie and Val again at the party.
‘I’ve thought of someone else you should find out about,’ Annie said. ‘A woman we helped who ended up in hospital. Lil went to find her in Edinburgh and she was in a terribly bad way. We talked endlessly about what happened to her and we never knew.’
‘Emily someone?’ I said. ‘Lil mentioned her. I’ve got her name written down. I’ll definitely try to find out what happened to her.’
Annie gripped my hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For being interested.’
I kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you,’ I said.
Chapter 50
Helena
October 2018
The day of the party was foul. A horrible autumn day with strong winds, and blustery rain, and a real feeling that winter was on its way.
I was in a mood anyway, because I’d ‘accidentally’ looked at Jack’s Instagram feed and seen a photo of him and that one from Game of Thrones with the hair, and it had made me think about watching it together and him doing an impression of the dragon woman to make me laugh, and the thought of never seeing his rubbish impressions again had plunged me into gloom.
‘Come on,’ I said to myself in the shower. ‘It’s been weeks. You should be over him by now.’
And yet I wasn’t.
Still, at least I had the party to distract me. I had a new dress to wear, with a flouncy skirt and pockets, and Dora had new rainbow-striped tights to wear under her super-cute cord pinafore. We were all set.
Pietr had gone to Surrey to collect Lil. He was bringing her back to Mum and Dad’s and she and Dad were going to talk before the party began – at least Miranda and I hoped that was going to happen. They were both so bloody stubborn I wasn’t convinced.
Imogen was back in London, for good this time. She’d decided to train as a singing teacher and Dad was thrilled that finally one of us was doing something musical. And Andy had made a video message for us to play for Lil at the party, because apparently the site he was digging, which had been there for a thousand years, couldn’t be left alone for one weekend.
Annie was going to be arriving later, with Val. And I had lots of things to tell Lil about people from her past. I hoped she’d be pleased.
Dora and I arrived at Mum and Dad’s just as Pietr was helping Lil out of the car.
‘Hello, you,’ I said, giving her a kiss. ‘Happy birthday.’
‘Look at my tights,’ said Dora, giving her a twirl. ‘They have all the colours.’
‘They’re smashing,’ said Lil.
We bustled up the path against the wind and into the warm house.
Dad stood in the hall, looking nervous.
‘Hello, Robert,’ Lil said.
He bent and kissed her.
‘Hello,’ he said.
Miranda was behind him and she gave me a quizzical look. I shrugged. I’d not thought about what happened next.
‘Everything’s done,’ Miranda said. ‘So why don’t we all go into the lounge and have a sit-down before the guests arrive?’
We all went into the lounge and sat down, staring at each other expectantly.
Dad cleared his throat. ‘Lil,’ he began.
But she put her hand up to stop him. ‘Let me,’ she said.
There was a pause. I pulled Dora on to my knee in case she started singing or running around and broke the moment. Freddie, bless him, sat quietly, his eyes round like saucers.
‘Robert,’ Lil said. ‘I wanted to tell you …’
Dad got up and went over to her. Miranda had been sitting next to Lil, but she swiftly got up and Dad sat down instead. He took Lil’s hand and I felt my eyes fill with tears.
‘Robert,’ Lil tried again. ‘I’m your mother.’
Dad patted her hand. ‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he said.
Miranda and I exchanged glances. She was just as teary as I was. So was Mum. And Imogen. And, I thought, so was Pietr, though he was staring out of the window and pretending not to be interested.
‘Do you remember when I was about five, you came to visit and you brought me a plane?’ Dad said.
‘I remember it well,’ Lil said, smiling. ‘I had a friend called Gareth, who was a mechanic on the airbase. He made it for you.’
‘I loved it,’ he said. ‘But mostly I loved it because you gave it to me.’
Lil smiled again.
‘I always looked forward to your visits,’ Dad went on.
‘I’m glad,’ Lil said. Her voice was shaky.
‘I understand,’ Dad said. ‘I understand why you had to give me to Mum and Dad. I also wanted to say
thank you. For giving me the two most wonderful parents.’
Lil blinked at him. ‘Do you know, in all this time I’d never considered you would thank me for giving you away,’ she said.
‘In many ways, I was lucky because Mum and Dad gave me a happy, stable home life and you gave me dreams,’ Dad said.
Lil smiled. ‘I knew you were talented the very first time I sat you at a piano,’ she said. ‘I remember how your tiny hands felt in mine that day.’
‘You showed me how music could take you places,’ he said. ‘I chose my career because of you.’
Lil scoffed. ‘You did that yourself.’
‘And when I really needed you, Lil, you were there.’
Lil looked away. ‘That’s not true,’ she said. ‘I missed your concerts, your first day at school, your first steps.’
‘Honestly, Lil,’ Dad said. ‘When Sal was ill after Immy was born, you turned up and you made everything okay. And you showed me how to be a parent.’ He looked up at his mother. ‘Looking back, that was when I started to wonder if you were my mother, even if I didn’t realise it at the time.’
Lil said nothing.
‘But Ruth was my mother too,’ he said.
‘She was a wonderful mother,’ said Lil.
‘Ruth will always be my mum and you will always be my Lil,’ Dad said. ‘I don’t want things to change between us. Can we carry on as we have?’
Lil nodded.
A ring on the doorbell made us all jump.
‘Guests,’ said Miranda, clapping her hands.
Lil and Dad smiled at each other and Dad squeezed her hands.
‘I’ll let them in,’ I said.
It was Annie and Val.
‘Wait here,’ I said after kissing them hello.
I went into the lounge, where the sombre mood of before had lifted. Freddie was tickling Dora, who was laughing uproariously. Dad was playing the piano, and Lil was watching him proudly. Mum was handing round drinks and Miranda had a plate of canapés. There was a bit of a party atmosphere, suddenly, as though the mood had lightened thanks to Dad and Lil’s conversation.
‘Lil,’ I said. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s a birthday present of sorts.’
She looked at me, intrigued, and I helped her to her feet and gestured for Annie to come into the room.
Lil and Annie stood and stared at each other for a minute.
‘Hello, Lil,’ Annie said.
‘Hello, Annie.’
Annie reached out to Lil and they hugged for a long time. I realised Lil was crying, and so was Annie – and so was I. But they were happy tears.
‘Oh, my lovely Lil,’ Annie said. ‘I’m so very pleased to see you.’
‘Why are you here?’
‘Helena invited me,’ she said, nodding towards me. ‘She tracked me down.’
Lil looked at me. ‘I thought you were going to tell me when you found something out,’ she said.
I shrugged. ‘Thought the surprise was better,’ I said, smiling.
Lil linked her arm through Annie’s. ‘Come and have a drink,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a lot to catch up on.’
‘More than seventy years,’ Annie said with a grin.
They both sat down on the sofa, and I perched on the arm.
‘Lil, there are some other things I need to tell you,’ I said.
‘Good heavens,’ Lil said. ‘Flora?’
I shook my head, sadly. ‘She died,’ I said. ‘In the Eighties.’
Lil looked disappointed.
‘But she had three boys,’ I said, hating to see her glum again. ‘And they’re all coming with their families.’
‘They are? How lovely.’
Lil looked a bit overwhelmed and I wondered if I should go on, but she nudged me impatiently.
‘What else?’
‘I found Rose,’ I said. ‘Rose who ratted on you.’
‘Is she still alive?’ Lil said.
‘She’s not,’ I told her. ‘She married Will, you know. After the war.’
‘Poor bloke,’ Lil said and I smiled at her barbed comment.
‘They both died in the early 1950s, in a car accident,’ I said. ‘No kids.’
‘Gosh, that’s sad,’ Lil said. ‘I feel bad now.’
Annie nudged her. ‘She was a cow, though,’ she said and they both chuckled. I had a glimpse of what they must have been like as young women in the ATA.
‘And I found Emily Page,’ I said. ‘The woman you helped in Edinburgh.’
Lil and Annie both looked up, apprehensive.
‘She lived to a ripe old age,’ I said. ‘She only died in 2001. She married, and she had two children – a boy and a girl. Obviously, I didn’t ask them along today. But I thought you’d want to know she survived.’
‘Thank you, Helena,’ Lil said. She gripped Annie’s hand. ‘Robert is my son,’ she said, looking at her friend. ‘I had him when I was just sixteen and my brother and sister-in-law brought him up.’
Annie nodded slowly. ‘I wondered,’ she said. ‘I always wondered. It must have been hard for you.’
‘No regrets,’ Lil said.
‘Are you happy?’ Annie asked.
Lil looked round at us all. ‘I believe I am,’ she said.
Epilogue
Helena
November 2018
Lil’s party was deemed an enormous success. She and Annie were having a wonderful time rekindling their friendship and poor Val seemed to spend half her time on the motorway driving Annie to Surrey to visit.
My research for the documentary was going brilliantly, thanks to Annie’s help. I’d uncovered more of the network and found more women who helped others. I’d spoken to midwives and doctors, and the women they’d helped, and there was so much more to do. Fliss was thrilled. And even more so when we pitched another documentary – this time about the women who flew for the ATA – and that was commissioned too. Lil was chuffed that the stories of her brave colleagues would be heard.
I, on the other hand, felt flat and miserable.
Everything was working. In theory. Dora and Greg were building a relationship across the ocean, with their FaceTime chats, and Greg was planning to visit for her third birthday in December. Work was great. My house was tidy. I’d even reframed the shattered Audrey Hepburn print. In short, things were back to normal.
But I missed Jack.
When I’d broken up with Greg, I’d been shocked. I’d felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over me with no warning. But once the initial horror wore off, I felt strange, undoubtedly, but also slightly relieved. Like I’d been walking on eggshells or clenching my teeth and now I could relax. And of course, I’d had my pregnancy to distract me, which had been a blessing.
This time, though, it was different. Memories of the short time I’d spent with Jack kept rolling through my mind like some sort of terrible romantic film montage. I kept thinking ‘oh I’ll tell Jack that’ about silly things from the new season of Stranger Things going up on Netflix, to discovering a new coffee place that made the best flat whites. All in all, I just felt really, really sad and I couldn’t seem to shrug it off.
One Friday evening, well into November, when the weather was shifting from autumnal to full-on wintry, I felt especially low. Dora was in bed, and though it wasn’t especially late it was properly dark already. Feeling in need of comfort, I put on an episode of Gilmore Girls, ordered some takeaway, poured myself a glass of red wine, and started sorting out my list of interviewees for the documentary.
When the doorbell rang, I jumped to my feet and padded through to the door in my socks. I was starving. But it wasn’t my dinner. Well, it was the dinner, but it wasn’t the Deliveroo driver I was expecting – instead it was Jack who stood there, clutching the bag of food.
‘I met your driver outside on my way up the path,’ he said. ‘Is there enough for me? I’m really hungry.’
I blinked in surprise. ‘There’s plenty,’ I said. ‘
I always order too much.’
We stared at each other for a second.
‘So, can I come in?’ Jack said eventually, and awkwardly. ‘It’s freezing out here.’
Silently, I stepped back and let him into the hall, where he stood looking just as awkward as he had outside.
‘I need to tell you something,’ he said.
‘Do you want to go into the lounge?’
‘No, I want to say it now, because I’ve got it all right in my head and if I leave it too long I’ll forget.’
‘Okay …’
Jack handed me the bag of food and took a breath.
‘I think you’re wonderful,’ he said. ‘And I have been miserable without you. More miserable than I’ve ever been, I think. I was in bloody LA, surrounded by glamorous people, and Hollywood megastars, and all I thought about was you. I was in a restaurant and I saw that chap from Game of Thrones, the one you like. And my agent introduced me, and he was nice, you know, but all I wanted was to take his photo and send it to you and say “look he does know something after all” and I couldn’t.’
‘Is this what you practised?’ I said. ‘Because it’s a bit rambling.’
Jack punched me gently on the shoulder. ‘No, it’s not what I practised,’ he said. ‘I’ve gone off track a bit.’
‘Go on,’ I said, beginning to grin. I knew where this was going.
‘You’re wonderful, and I’ve been miserable,’ he said. ‘And I know for a fact you’ve been miserable too.’
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Have you spoken to Miranda?’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘I spoke to Lil.’
My mouth fell open. ‘Lil?’
‘She said you were moping and I needed to come back,’ Jack said. ‘She said that you were being a martyr and that a life filled with regrets was no life at all.’
‘She said that?’ I said, impressed. ‘That’s quite poetic.’
‘Have you been miserable?’
I stepped closer to him. ‘I have,’ I said.
‘Do you know what we can do to make it better?’
I stepped closer still. Our bodies were almost touching now and I could smell his familiar smell.
‘Maybe …’ I said. And suddenly we were kissing, right there in my hall. The food bag still clutched in one of my hands, and the front door open with fallen leaves blowing in with the rain.
The Hidden Women Page 27