Chapter 26

Helen sat opposite her aunt in front of the small fire that had gone a little way to heating the front room. If only the ceilings weren't so high in these Victorian houses, she thought, watching as her aunt snoozed, a knitted shawl around her shoulders and two blankets covering her from her chest to her feet. It was peaceful with only the occasional voice passing their front window.

Bobby was asleep on the sofa snuggled in blankets, his toy train clutched in his tiny hand. Helen thought how perfect this scenario would be if it wasn't wartime and her aunt wasn't unwell. Sylvia had developed another chest cough and there was a greyish pallor to her skin and purplish circles under her eyes. Helen had pleaded with her to let her go for the doctor, but Sylvia had refused to allow it, telling her she was fine and there was little he could do anyhow.

As she watched the closest person to her after Bobby, fear shot though her at the realisation that one day she might be staring at an empty seat. Her aunt might do her best to reassure her but Helen wasn't fooled. Aunt Sylvia was dying, and there was little she could do about it.

Helen's throat constricted and she wiped away a stray tear just as her aunt opened her eyes.

Sitting up straighter with some effort, Sylvia frowned. ‘Whatever's the matter, dear?'

Irritated with herself for not being more careful, Helen shook her head. ‘It's nothing,' she fibbed, frantically trying to think of something to say. ‘I was, er, just thinking about Richard.'

‘You've decided to reply to his telegram then?' her aunt asked, appearing happy at the thought. Helen suspected her aunt wanted her to reply more than she would like to admit and she couldn't help thinking that it was the right thing to do.

‘Yes, I think I will.'

Sylvia pulled her shawl tighter round her chest. ‘I'm pleased, though curious to know what made you change your mind.'

‘I think it was discovering Tony had been arrested. It made me consider how I'd feel if something happened to Richard and I hadn't bothered to reply to him when I had the chance.' She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

‘I know, dear. And for what it's worth, I think you're being sensible.'

‘You do?'

‘Yes. It's one thing sticking to your principles during peacetime, but this is war and everything is a bit topsy-turvy, especially when it comes to relationships, and especially love.'

She wasn't sure why she was surprised to hear her aunt's opinion. ‘Now I need to think what to say. I don't want to give him false hope and I don't think it's right that I tell him about Bobby. Something like that should be done face-to-face.' She noticed the doubt on her aunt's face. ‘What do you think?'

‘I believe the most important thing is to know you've done the right thing by Bobby.' Sylvia looked down at her hands briefly. ‘I'm sorry, but I believe that would be to tell Richard about him. Everything else will sort itself out somehow.'

Her aunt was right. She had already wasted too much time, and if she couldn't do what she believed to be the right thing during these dark times, then there was something lacking in her.

‘You're right. I'll do it during my lunch break tomorrow.'

‘Good girl.' Sylvia smiled. It dawned on Helen that her aunt had been waiting for her to come to this conclusion for a while.

‘It matters to you that I do this, doesn't it?'

Sylvia nodded slowly. ‘I worry that when this war ends – because we have to believe that it will – your parents might not accept that dear little boy.' She took a deep breath. ‘I'm concerned that if I'm not around, you'll need someone to turn to.' She reached out and took Helen's trembling hand in hers. ‘Sweetheart, none of us should be alone, especially not a young mother, and even if the only relationship you have with Richard is as friends, at least I'll know there's another adult who loves Bobby almost as much as I do.'

Helen cleared her throat, not wishing to cry. ‘Almost as much?' she teased, desperate to divert her aunt's attention from the seriousness of what she was saying.

Sylvia stared at her before her face relaxed into a smile. ‘All seriousness aside, I believe his father couldn't fail to love Bobby.'

Unable to contain her tears any longer, Helen began to sob. Her aunt went to her and gave her a hug. ‘Whatever happens, promise me you'll never give up hoping that everything will work out in the end.'

How could she make a promise about something she didn't know she had the strength to do?

‘You mustn't despair, Helen. It never helped anyone. Bobby needs you to be strong.'

Seeing the concern on her aunt's face, Helen knew she needed to reassure her. ‘I promise I'll stay strong for him.'

She helped her aunt upstairs, promising to tell her what she would write in her telegram to Richard the following morning, then kissed her goodnight.

Her aunt hugged her tightly. ‘Don't fret too much about what you'll say. The most important thing he needs is a reply. Anything else will be a bonus.'

‘I'll bear that in mind.'

Helen closed her aunt's bedroom door quietly and went to her room where Bobby was sleeping soundly. As she washed and changed, she thought about what her aunt had said. It was a relief to have the pressure taken away, not having to struggle to find the perfect reply. She slid between her freezing sheets and shivered. She still hadn't decided whether to mention Bobby.

By the morning, she was no less agitated. The dawn was breaking and after only a couple of hours' sleep she sat on her bed with a pencil and piece of paper determined to come up with a message for him.

Finally, she had something. It wasn't perfect but it would do.

Should have spoken before leaving. Bobby (your son), Aunt Sylvia and I are well. Have job and friends. Keep safe. Please send word again. Helen

Deciding she couldn't improve it any further, Helen dressed, folded the piece of paper and tucked it in her skirt pocket to show her aunt.

She carried Bobby downstairs, raising his chubby hand and kissing it. ‘You're such a handsome boy,' she cooed, noticing that his eyes were the image of Richard's and wondering why she hadn't seen it before. Probably, she thought, because she hadn't wanted to. Now that she had prepared the telegram, she was eager to send it and decided to leave early for work to give her time to do it.

‘Good morning, Aunty,' she said, smiling as her aunt waited for her to put Bobby into his highchair before kissing the top of his head.

‘You're looking pleased with yourself,' her aunt said a twinkle in her tired eyes. ‘You've written it, haven't you?'

‘I have.' She took the piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to her aunt. ‘Sit down and read it, then you can tell me what you think while I put the kettle on.'

Helen didn't mind not eating breakfast, especially as Cook usually had something tasty when she arrived at work, but she wasn't comfortable with her aunt going without.

‘I'll bring some food home for our supper,' she promised, dropping the tea leaves they had left out to dry the previous evening into the teapot and watching as her aunt read her words. ‘What do you think?'

‘You've managed to convey a lot in twenty-five words.'

‘I'm happy to change anything you think might give the wrong impression.'

‘If you mean the bit where you let him know he has a son, then I think that's well done.' She held the note out for Helen to take. ‘This is good. Well done. Make sure you send it today.'

‘You needn't worry about me changing my mind.' Helen laughed. She was looking forward to sending it, now that she had worked out what to say.