Chapter 27

March 1942

Helen sensed a different atmosphere in the house as soon as she woke. Her aunt's health had continued to deteriorate, and the cool spring weather hadn't helped alleviate her symptoms. She knew without checking on her that something dreadful had happened. Not wishing to take Bobby to Sylvia's room, she lowered him into his playpen, ignoring his protests, and ran upstairs to her aunt's room. Standing outside the door Helen struggled to find the strength to enter, her fear at what she might discover making her feel lightheaded.

Knowing she couldn't delay going inside any longer, Helen took a steadying breath and, without allowing herself to think, put her hand on the doorknob and turned it. She pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.

Even with the curtains closed Helen couldn't mistake her aunt's slightly opened eyes staring ahead, unseeing. It was clear she had passed away.

Helen dropped to her knees by the bed and took Sylvia's cool, lifeless hand in hers. ‘Please don't leave me,' she sobbed, unable to bear the thought that this woman who had been everything to her and Bobby had gone.

Struggling to control her grief, she knew she had to do something. Had to tell someone.

Remembering her aunt's words about staying strong for Bobby, she knew she had to keep her promise. Fresh tears flowed down her face. She couldn't move away from the bed, certain she couldn't take any more heartache.

‘Come along now,' she cried, repeating words her aunt had said to her when she was finding things difficult. ‘You can do this. You must do this for Bobby, and for Aunt Sylvia.'

Saying her aunt's name brought on a fresh wave of grief. She struggled to regain her composure, but hearing Bobby's yells from downstairs knew she needed to pull herself together somehow. Unable to cover her aunt's face, she straightened the bedclothes, ensuring they were over her aunt's shoulders. ‘Thank you for everything you've done for us, Aunty. I'll make sure Bobby never forgets you.'

She stood and went over to the window and drew the curtains, then carried her aunt's full glass of water down to the kitchen. Forcing herself to think, Helen realised she needed someone to sit with Bobby while she went to phone the doctor. She picked him up and carried him next door, only knocking once before Babs opened the door.

‘Helen? You look… Whatever's happened?' She looked past Helen before taking her arm and leading her inside. ‘Mum?' She pushed the door closed. ‘Mum!'

Unable to form any words, Helen stood in the hallway. She was vaguely aware of Babs taking Bobby from her arms and being led trembling into the living room, then Peggy was crouching in front of her, a hand on each arm of Helen's chair.

‘Put this around her shoulders. She needs something warm to drink.'

Helen looked up to see Mrs Hamel standing in front of her.

‘What's happened, Helen?' Peggy asked, her voice gentle.

Helen tried to clear her thoughts, then remembered and started to cry. ‘Aunt Sylvia. She's…'

‘I think I know,' Ida said her voice gentle. ‘I'll go next door. Babs, you make that tea and find food for the little one to eat. Peggy, you stay here with Helen.'

It wasn't until later, when Helen woke in a strange room, that she remembered what had happened. Where was Bobby? She sat bolt upright and went to get up, but Peggy appeared from somewhere and sat on the edge of the bed, gently pushing her back down.

‘Everything's fine,' she said, her voice calm but determined. ‘The doctor has been called and he arranged for your aunt to be taken to the hospital.'

Thinking she must have been mistaken earlier, Helen sat up again. ‘She's alive?'

Peggy shook her head slowly. ‘I'm afraid not. It's where they take people who've passed on.'

Helen let out a sob and squeezed her eyes closed. Then, lying on her side, she brought her knees up into a foetal position, wishing she could go back in time.

Peggy pulled a light, lacy cover over her and stroked her back. ‘I'm so sorry, Helen.'

‘You mustn't think you're alone,' Ida's voice came from the doorway. ‘We're here for you. We'll look out for you and Bobby.'

‘Thank you,' Helen said, desperately trying to stop crying. ‘Where's Bobby?'

‘He's downstairs with Babs.'

Helen wondered why her teeth where chattering when it wasn't that cold, then supposed it must be from shock. ‘I should go home,' she said eventually. ‘I don't want to be any trouble.'

‘You're not,' Peggy said. ‘But if you wish to I'll come with you and help you pack up your aunt's things, if that's what you want to do.'

Helen had no idea what she wanted.

* * *

The following couple of weeks passed in a heartbroken, stunned haze. Helen couldn't face returning to work and sent a message to Cook to let her know what had happened. Not long afterwards, she received a visit from her, and was touched when Mrs Jeune handed her a small package of food for her and Bobby.

‘I want you to know I'm here, if ever you need me,' she said. ‘And please call me Pearl.'

Helen wasn't sure why she was surprised that Cook, or Mrs Jeune as she knew her, was called Pearl. She looked at this woman who had only ever shown her kindness, if sometimes in a gruff way, and her heart filled with gratitude.

‘Thank you, Pearl.'

Pearl looked around the neat living room. ‘I know it's a difficult thing to do but if you need me to come and help you sort through your aunt's belongings or find a home for them you only need ask.'

‘That's very kind of you.'

She stared thoughtfully at Helen. ‘Your aunt and I were friends since our first day at the parish school we attended. She was a good woman. Always kind. And I know she loved having you and Bobby living here with her.'

Helen was only aware she was crying when Pearl's expression changed, and she delved in her handbag and pulled out a neatly pressed handkerchief. Shaking it out she held it to Helen. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.'

Helen wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘You didn't. I'm a bit of a mess and many things set me off. I… I just don't know how I'm going to face the future without her.'

Pearl patted her hand. ‘You're not alone. You have me and Mrs Edwards.' She gave a tight smile. ‘She asked to be remembered to you.' She sighed. ‘You must keep busy, and vigilant.' She shifted in her chair. ‘Please don't think I'm overstepping our friendship when I say I think you must consider what you're going to do, now that your aunt is no longer here.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘This is a big house for you and Bobby, and a young girl like you should think before deciding to stay here with only the little one for company.'

Helen realised she was suggesting she and Bobby move, but didn't think she could cope with doing something like that. ‘I can barely stand being in this house without her,' she admitted. She hesitated and continued, ‘But this place is my only connection to Aunt Sylvia now and I can't cope with the thought of leaving.'

Pearl Jeune rested her forearms on the table and lowered her voice, as if there was anyone nearby to overhear what she was about to say. ‘I understand, really I do. And I don't want to worry you but I believe you really must consider moving somewhere where you won't be by yourself. Will you try to do that for me?'

Fear felt like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. ‘But where would I go? There's not many people who'd take a spinster with a child, Mrs Jeune.'

‘I told you you're not alone, and I meant it. You might not know many people, but I do. When you decide you want to move, let me know and I'll do my best to find somewhere that suits you.'

Helen saw the hope in her friend's eyes. ‘Thank you.'

‘I don't mean to put pressure on you, but I feel a sense of responsibility for you and this little one.'

‘And I really do appreciate it.'

When Pearl left, Helen decided she needed to keep busy and settled on rearranging her home slightly. She was unable to face packing away her aunt's belongings. Instead, she tidied Sylvia's bedroom and put everything neatly away in the wardrobe, hoping it would feel as if Sylvia had gone out for the day but would be returning soon. Helen knew they weren't the sort of changes Pearl had meant, but it was all she could cope with.

After her initial sobbing, for the last week a strange numbness had come over her. Helen assumed she was in shock. She much preferred it to the agonising heartache she had been feeling. She hoped this phase of her grief would last.