by Nancy Revell
‘Aye,’ Pearl said. ‘He did.’
Helen saw her shoulders sag.
‘Yer grandda forced himself on me.’ Pearl spoke as much for her daughter’s sake as for Helen’s. She would tell them the hellish truth and be done with it. Perhaps then she could finally leave it all behind.
‘There’d been a big party for his going back overseas,’ she said, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘He woke me in the middle of the night. Strangled me half to death. Did what he did.’
Bel moved her stool to be nearer her ma. She put an arm around her. This was the first time she had heard her mother say the words out loud. Almost a year had passed since the day of revelations outside Mr Havelock’s house when she had learnt the truth about her own parentage. It was only now, though, that she felt as if she could have cried – not for herself, she had already done that – but for her ma.
Bel glanced up at Helen. She looked stunned. Horrified.
‘I’m so sorry, Pearl,’ Helen said, her eyes wet as she looked at this woman and her daughter.
She felt ashamed to be a Havelock.
Ashamed to be the granddaughter of such a vile, evil man.
Her heart bled for Pearl and for Bel, knowing that she had been conceived in such an abhorrent manner.
God, she’d been so desperate to take the top off Pandora’s box and have a good look.
But now that she had, she wished she hadn’t, for she knew she would never be able to forget what she’d seen. Nor close the lid.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Charlotte staggered back along the lane, her mind like a kaleidoscope flashing distorted images across her vision. A red lamp … a red room … a brass bed … Maisie kissing a man in a white uniform … Vivian’s serious face talking to the soldiers … Business.
Reaching the end of the lane, Charlotte stopped. Took a deep breath. Random remembrances of the past six months careered to the fore.
The dishevelled man coming out of the front door of Lily’s. A ‘waif and stray’ or a client? Had Kate lied too?
The sums in the back of her diary that didn’t add up.
God, she had been so stupid!
Rosie was working in a brothel.
Her employer was a madam.
Lily was a madam! Of course she was. The orange hair. The clothes. The jewellery. The eccentricities.
And Maisie and Vivian were working girls.
It all made sense now. The way they both looked. Sounded. Behaved … Their ‘dates’ … the Admiralty … Christmas Eve … The wedding.
Oh my God! Did Bel know about her sister?
Charlotte walked to the corner of Ashbrooke Crescent and West Lawn.
Making her way through the jostling crowds, back over to Rosie, she caught her sister’s profile as she turned to look for her. The sun caught her skin and she could see the scars.
At least her sister had not been a – God, she could barely even think the word.
At least Rosie hadn’t been a call girl.
‘Where have you been?’ Rosie sounded worried.
Charlotte heard herself speak, telling her sister and Lily and George that she had seen a friend.
‘Let’s get to the clubhouse before they run out of tea,’ Lily said.
Charlotte could tell Lily knew that she was lying. Of course she did. Lily knew her. Understood her. She loved Lily. But Lily had lied to her. She was a madam. She was running a house of ill repute.
Suddenly Charlotte was back in the kaleidoscope.
People were swirling around her.
She could hear the chinking of china teacups.
George was talking about France.
She looked at Lily, who was staring out of the window. She followed her line of vision and saw Kate and Alfie in the stands, watching the grand performance taking place on the green. A silent one. The vicar’s mouth was moving, yet she heard no words.
He was there and she was here.
Or was it the other way round?
Was she the theatre and everyone else the spectators?
She felt as though she might be going mad.
‘Conseil Nationale de la Résistance.’
Was she now hearing French?
It was George.
They were looking at her expectantly.
All these people she no longer knew.
‘The Conseil Nationale de la Résistance means the National Council of the Resistance,’ she said robotically.
She caught George glancing at Lily. They knew. They could read her mind.
‘Illusion … Pétain … Resistance … working together … bread is buttered … eggs in one basket …’ Lily and George’s words seem to run into each other.
She couldn’t sit here and pretend.
Their whole existence had been a lie.
She heard her chair scrape back.
Lies. All lies.
‘You all right, ma petite?’ Lily asked. ‘You’ve lost all your colour.’
No! she wanted to scream.
You have all lied to me!
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I just need to use the loo.’
Everything had suddenly become topsy-turvy, back to front, inside out.
The reality from which she had been shielded was unreal. Fictional.
She felt like Alice after she’d followed the White Rabbit down the hole – only there was no returning to the real world.
This was the real world.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Rosie got to the toilets but not in time to catch up with Charlotte.
She waited outside, watching women go in and out.
After five minutes, Rosie went in.
‘You all right, Charlie?’
‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ Charlotte answered.
‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ Rosie said.
Lily and George had been right to look concerned.
‘Dear me.’ Rosie tried to sound jocular when Charlotte came out. ‘I know the Ladies here is nice – but not nice enough to take up residence here.’
Charlotte gave a wan smile.
‘Come to the bar with me,’ Rosie said. ‘I’ll get us both a glass of lemonade.’
Normally the offer of any kind of fizzy drink would have had Charlotte racing to the bar. Instead, she trooped behind.
‘Two lemonades, please,’ Rosie told the barmaid.
After paying, she handed one to Charlotte and took a sip from her own glass.
She started to feel a little unnerved by her sister’s sudden change of mood.
What on earth had happened in the past hour?
‘What’s wrong, Charlie?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Nothing.’ Charlotte was still unable to look her sister in the eye.
‘You were fine on the way to the parade. Happy as Larry, I’d say. Then you disappear for a little while – you say you saw someone from your class but weren’t able to speak to them – and then you come back miserable.’
Rosie looked at Charlotte, who was inspecting an invisible spot on the ground.
Seeing a free table by the side of the lounge bar, Rosie grabbed her drink.
‘Come on, let’s sit over there.’
Charlotte followed and the two sisters sat down.
Rosie noticed Charlotte had yet to take a drink of her lemonade.
She looked around; the room was just starting to fill up. The parade was now over and it was getting noisy.
‘Right, you’re beginning to worry me now, Charlie.’
Rosie looked at her sister. Something wasn’t right. Charlie was never this quiet.
‘What is it, Charlie? You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?’
Charlotte didn’t say a word. Nor did she nod or shake her head.
‘Did you see one of your schoolmates? Were they horrible to you?’
Was Charlie being bullied again?
Charlotte shook her head.
‘No, I’m not being bullied.’
Rosie thought she saw
her sister’s lower lip tremble. She was on the verge of tears. So unlike Charlotte. The last time she’d cried was when she’d told Rosie what had been going on at Runcorn.
‘Everything’s a lie,’ Charlotte said finally. She still wouldn’t look at Rosie. ‘You’ve lied to me my whole life.’
Rosie had a sudden wave of nausea.
She didn’t know, did she?
She took Charlotte’s chin and tilted it so that her sister was forced to look at her.
‘What do you mean, everything’s a lie?’
Charlotte looked into her sister’s eyes.
‘I know,’ she said simply.
The two sisters stared at one other as though seeing each other for the first time.
Suddenly Rosie was back in time. It was a year and a half ago. She was with Peter by the police cabin on the south docks. He was saying the same thing to her.
And now she was saying the same thing she’d said to him, but to Charlotte.
‘What do you mean, “you know?”’
Her legs started to shake. Thank God she was sitting down. Again, the feeling of nausea. It had been dreadful when Peter had told her, but this was worse.
Much worse.
This was her sister.
Charlie was still a child. Charlie looked up to her.
‘I know,’ Charlotte said, her lower lip still trembling. ‘I know about Lily’s.’
Rosie felt breathless.
‘What about Lily’s?’ She was stalling for time. Trying desperately to put off the inevitable.
‘I know.’ Charlotte dropped her voice. ‘I saw the red light … Saw Maisie and Vivian take two soldiers back there. I saw one of the rooms,’ Charlotte whispered. ‘At Lily’s. That day I went for tea. Didn’t really understand.’ She looked off into the distance. ‘Until today.’
Neither spoke for a moment.
‘Everything makes sense now,’ she said. ‘The school fees. The flat. Money for everything …’ Her voice trailed off.
‘And you’ve worked there for years. Lied to me for years,’ Charlotte said.
Another moment’s silence.
Rosie didn’t know what to say. It was clear her sister knew. Her worst fears had come true.
Like she always knew they would.
She’d been kidding herself.
She was stupid for thinking Charlotte wouldn’t find out.
Of course she would.
And now she knew the truth, there was no point in lying.
‘Yes,’ Rosie said simply. ‘I did work at Lily’s.’
Charlotte looked at her sister and could read the mortification in Rosie’s face. She wanted to tell her that she understood. There was no real shame in just doing the books, was there? Yes, it was a brothel, but it wasn’t as if she had done what Maisie and Vivian did.
‘I—’ Charlotte was just about to speak but Rosie stopped her. Putting a finger on her sister’s lips, she took hold of her hand.
‘Charlie, I’m sorry. Sorry for lying.’
Charlotte tried to speak again, but Rosie continued.
‘I didn’t want you to know,’ she said. ‘Not until you were older, anyway.’ Rosie squeezed Charlotte’s hand.
‘Lily told me I should have been honest with you from the start,’ Rosie said. ‘Told you the truth. She said you were old enough.’
Charlotte nodded. Lily knew her so well.
‘But I guess I wanted to keep you innocent. Not a part of that world.’
Rosie looked at her sister.
‘I didn’t want you to know I’d worked there. What I did … I wish you hadn’t found out this way,’ Rosie said. ‘I wanted to tell you myself.’
Charlotte felt her heart start to beat faster.
Something wasn’t right.
‘And I want you to know that I don’t work there – as such – not now.’
She paused.
‘Now I only do the books. All the accounts. That sort of thing.’
Charlotte felt her head explode.
Rosie.
Her Rosie.
Her sister.
Her beautiful, strong sister had been a working girl.
She had slept with men for money.
Rosie saw the change in Charlotte’s face.
‘So, you worked there?’ Charlotte said incredulously. ‘As in, worked there – as one of the girls?’
And it was at that moment that Rosie realised she had just made the biggest mistake in her life.
Charlotte had thought she was simply a bookkeeper. Albeit for a brothel. But only a bookkeeper.
She looked at Charlotte and saw the hurt. Then disgust. All mixed up with disbelief.
It was then and there that Rosie’s heart broke.
Probably for the first time in her life.
For at that very moment she saw her little sister’s loss of innocence.
It destroyed her to know that it was she – her older sister – who had been the cause.
She had tried so hard to shield Charlie, to protect her, and yet it was she who had dragged her into the world she had so desperately wanted her little sister to remain ignorant of.
If only she could have taken her words back.
But it was too late.
She watched as tears filled Charlie’s pretty blue eyes. The eyes of their mother.
‘You slept with men for money,’ Charlotte said, tears running down her face.
Rosie watched as sorrow was replaced by anger.
‘I used to,’ she said, trying to lessen the blow. ‘But not any more.’ She tried to take Charlotte’s hand, but her sister wrenched it away.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Tears were now dribbling over her lips. ‘Why?’ Charlotte stood up. ‘Why would you do that?’
But she didn’t wait for an answer; instead she left, pushing her way through the throng now waiting to get served at the bar, needing to get out, to leave. To run away from this horrid reality.
Rosie jumped up and started to go after her. She needed to fix this, even though she knew that this could never truly be fixed. The clock could not be turned back, no matter how much she desperately wanted it to be.
She felt someone grab her arm and turned to see that it was Lily.
Rosie looked at her.
Lily flinched at the sight of the pain etched on Rosie’s face.
‘She knows.’ It was all Rosie could say. The words seemed to stick in her throat. ‘She knows.’
Lily looked around to see that Charlotte had just about made it to the exit.
‘Stay here!’ she told Rosie. ‘Leave the girl to me.’
Rosie didn’t argue.
All of a sudden, she felt exhausted.
Chapter Fifty-Four
After leaving the Tatham, Helen turned right and made her way towards Borough Road. It was still light enough to walk without the aid of her little electric torch. The marble-playing children had been called in for their suppers a good while ago and playtime for most of the street’s youngsters had been replaced by bedtime.
Helen would have given anything to magically transport herself to the Ryhope to be with John. He was the person she yearned to be with. She would have given anything to be sitting next to him, feeling his body next to hers. The love she believed they had for each other replacing the feelings of horror and revulsion she had been left with after finally hearing the truth.
A truth she guessed John already knew.
John had been with her throughout this whole sorry saga, and it felt natural that she should be with him now. But of course she couldn’t be. She knew he had a particularly difficult operation scheduled for this evening. She would have to wait until tomorrow to see him.
Walking down the stone steps to the little basement flat, Helen realised how lucky she was to have John – and, of course, Gloria. She didn’t know what she would do without either of them.
Helen knocked. Not too loudly as she didn’t want to wake Hope.
‘Helen.’ Gloria opened the door wide. �
�What on earth are you doing here?’ She ushered her in. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Ah John!’
Dr Parker turned to see Dr Eris striding towards him down the corridor.
‘Claire,’ he said, smiling, ‘you have such energy. Would you mind giving me a little if you have any to spare?’
‘How looks can deceive!’ She laughed and touched his arm gently as she reached him. ‘Honestly, it’s all a façade. Underneath this sprightly exterior is one worn-out, rather depleted woman.’
Dr Parker raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘If you say so.’
‘I’m guessing you’ve just been to see our young Jacob?’ she asked, looking down at the thick, clearly labelled patient file he was holding.
‘I have indeed. And I have to say again what a brilliant job you’ve done. I’m guessing he’ll be going home soon?’
‘I want to find him some kind of work placement or war work – office-bound, of course – before he goes,’ Dr Eris said. ‘He’s an intelligent chap. He needs to have an aim. A purpose. Or he’ll be back here before we know it.’
Dr Parker nodded. Psychologists like Claire got a bad press, but they too were quietly saving people’s lives, just as he and his fellow surgeons were, only in a different way.
‘So, where are you off to?’ Dr Eris asked. ‘I’m guessing you’ve not got the night off?’
‘Well, actually I have. The op I was down to do has just been cancelled – or rather, put back.’
‘Clinical or other?’ Dr Eris asked.
‘Clinical. His pre-op assessment has shown up a few concerns. Slight respiratory infection. The anaesthetist doesn’t want to take the chance.’
Dr Eris thought for a moment.
‘I’m off at seven this evening …’ She moved a little closer to Dr Parker to make way for a porter pushing a patient on a stretcher. ‘As we’re both feeling like we need a little respite, why don’t we escape for a few hours and go and refuel down at the Albion?’
‘The Albion?’ Dr Parker said. Why was he stalling? Why shouldn’t he go for a drink?
‘All right then.’ He smiled. ‘The Albion it is. For a few hours’ R & R. Respite and refuelling.’