Chapter 16

‘Good morning,' Helen said, happier than usual, mostly because her aunt's health seemed to have improved slightly. She was hopeful that the prognosis, about the virus damaging her aunt's heart, had been wrong. Sylvia even seemed fit enough now to look after Bobby for the day. Helen was beginning to believe that somehow things were going to be all right.

Mrs Jeune seemed happier than usual, too.

She realised she hadn't heard any news from Peggy about whether her information had proved to be useful. Why would she? she reasoned finally. Everyone had to be careful to keep quiet about information they came across. Her role had just been to pass on to her friends anything she had heard. She wished she had discovered something more since then, but either the officers were being more careful in front of the household staff, or she had simply missed hearing anything.

‘You're on time,' Dulcie teased as she entered the kitchen from the scullery, a smile on her thin face. ‘You're chirpier than usual, too.'

‘I am, I––' Helen began, but Dulcie interrupted her.

‘Did you receive one, too, then?'

She wasn't sure what Dulcie meant. ‘I'm sorry?'

‘A Red Cross telegram. Cook got one and I was wondering if you did, too.'

Helen shook her head, her good mood fading fast. ‘No, I didn't.'

Cook walked in through the back door. She had a scowl on her face, but her voice was light, and Helen wondered why she was the only one of the three of them not to have received a valuable telegram. Then again, she mused, who was going to send her one? She had no idea how her brother or parents had taken the news of her abrupt departure when they read the letter she had left for them on her pillow the night she had snuck out. She doubted any of them would bother sending a telegram to someone who had let them all down so badly.

Forcing her disappointment aside, Helen asked her about the telegram and who it was from. She listened with a determined smile on her face as Cook relayed the message she had received that morning from her sister.

‘She's on the mainland staying with our cousin,' Mrs Jeune explained. ‘I was hoping to accompany her, but our cousin's home isn't big. She offered us all a place, but with my sister, her daughter and two grandchildren going, I thought I should stay here and keep an eye on my home instead.'

‘I suppose you're right,' Helen said, thinking that Cook probably felt she had little choice. She was sad that the woman who had been so kind to her and Bobby was separated from her own family. ‘Do you have any relations left on the island?'

Cook shook her head. ‘Not anymore.'

How many people were in that position? Helen wondered.

Mrs Jeune looked sternly at her. ‘Now, Miss, you can wipe that look off your face. I'm fine. I might miss them, but it's reassuring to have a message in my sister's own words and more than anything to know they're doing well.'

Helen supposed she was right. She was glad for her but wished now more than ever that she had someone to send a telegram to or receive one from. Her aunt had asked, a few months before, if she wanted to send a message to her family but Helen was too nervous to do so in case they didn't reply and she would be sure that they had turned their backs on her permanently. Maybe it was better not to know.

Still, despite the situation she had found herself in, she hoped to one day return to her family home and introduce Bobby to her parents and brother.

Maybe Aunty Sylvia could travel with them to the mainland when the war was over? Helen doubted her mother would ever do anything to upset her sister. And as for her father, hadn't he always professed that Sylvia was the wisest of them all? Happy with her plan, Helen decided that was what she would do. The thought cheered her, and she was only vaguely aware of Mrs Jeune chatting with Dulcie about her telegram and the reply she was planning to send.

As soon as she arrived home that evening Helen could sense excitement in the air and wondered what had happened.

‘I'm home, Aunty,' she called, entering the kitchen as soon as she had hung up her coat. She saw her aunt sitting at the table holding what looked like a telegram.

‘Mum and Dad?' she asked, barely able to contain her delight.

‘I can't think who else it might be from,' her aunt replied happily. ‘Well, don't just stand there, open it. I've been dying to know what it says.'

Helen took a deep breath and sat as Sylvia slid the envelope towards her. She stared at it, nervous about reading their message. She looked at her aunt.

‘For pity's sake just open it.'

Helen braced herself as she withdrew the flimsy sheet of paper with the Red Cross emblem on the top of the page. Her eyes caught the final word, and she began to tremble.

‘What is it?'

She couldn't speak for a second. ‘It's—' She swallowed. ‘It's not from Mum and Dad. It's from Richard,' she whispered, her voice quavering.

‘Bobby's father?'

Helen barely heard her as she read the message. No longer engaged. Sorry you left without knowing. Desperately hoping you are safe and well with Aunt Sylvia. Please send word. Fondest love always, Richard. He said ‘fondest love', she mused, feeling as if she was having some sort of out-of-body experience. She handed it to her aunt to look at.

‘It's a bit late for him to tell you this now,' her aunt snapped, clearly furious on Helen's behalf. ‘Silly, silly man.'

Her aunt had every right to be furious with him. ‘It's fine, Aunty.'

‘It is not,' her aunt argued. ‘If he hadn't behaved like a cad then you and your darling boy would not be having to cope in this place. I truly despair of young men sometimes.'

Helen couldn't think straight.

‘Will you reply to him?' Sylvia reached out and took Helen's hand in hers. Then, after a few seconds, she asked, ‘Does he even know about Bobby?'

Helen forced herself to look at her aunt. ‘No,' she admitted.

Her aunt didn't hide her shock. She stared at Helen thoughtfully. ‘I see. What will you do?'

‘Nothing, for now. I need to come to terms with what he's told me.' She sighed. ‘It's not as if anything I say can make a difference to either of our situations anyway. Bobby and I are stuck here and he's there, and that's all there is to it.'

Her aunt's eyes filled with sadness. ‘I suppose you're right.'

Helen replaced the message in its envelope and slipped it into her pocket. So much for wanting a telegram. Hearing from Richard had upset her. She had been coping before, mostly. Now she had to make decisions: about Richard, and of course about Bobby.

‘I don't think I'll reply,' she said, but took out the envelope again and looked at the date it had been sent. ‘It's taken three months to get here,' she sighed. ‘So much might have changed in that time.'

She couldn't bring herself to say, ‘Richard could be dead,' but it was a possibility. Or he could have reconsidered his feelings for her. ‘Maybe he's met someone else by now.'

She knew it was an unfair thing to say but she couldn't help herself. This message had torn open the wound his engagement had caused and the pain stung deeply.

Damn it, Richard, she thought. Why couldn't you have just left me alone after all this time?