Joe had joined the Home Guard, a civilian ‘army’ consisting of men who were too old to join the regular forces, or in reserved occupations such as doctors, miners, teachers and train drivers. Their job would be to fight off an invasion, and they were equipped with uniforms and weapons. Joe was proud to bursting point and regular visits to the local church hall for training sessions helped keep his spirits up.
Helen fared less well. At first Dee had been able to bring home the letters Sylvia sent to the hospital, and in this way they learned that Sylvia had given birth to a son.
‘I want to go and see her,’ Helen insisted.
‘You can’t, Mum. She’s never left a return address and she didn’t have the baby in hospital.’
They kept hoping but, as time passed, Helen realised that her daughter had truly rejected her and she couldn’t see her grandson. Her hair rapidly became white and her eyes grew faded.
‘Things will get better,’ Dee tried to tell her. ‘They have to. The war will end, we’ll find Sylvia and the baby and we’ll all be happy again.’
Helen would smile faintly but without conviction. Her health was visibly failing and she began to have dizzy spells. She always passed these off as ‘nothing’ and brushed aside Dee’s attempts to care for her. These days, she seemed indifferent to everything and everyone.
When the blow fell, it came with shocking suddenness.
One morning, as Dee was arriving for work, the ward sister looked up urgently.
‘Ah, good, there you are. Go and see the new patient in bed five. She came in two hours ago, and she keeps saying your name.’
The woman who lay there was thin and weary, with heavy bandages on her head. All her previous beauty had fled, yet Dee knew her at once.
‘Sylvia-oh, Sylvia, wake up, please.’
Sylvia opened her eyes and a faint smile touched her mouth. ‘Is that really you?’ she murmured.
‘Yes, I’m here. I can’t believe it-after all this time! Whatever happened to you?’
Her sister was in a bad way, her face bruised, her lips swollen.
‘A bomb hit the house,’ Sylvia murmured. ‘A wall fell in on me before I could escape. They got me out in the end but-’ Her voice faded.
Dee drew up a chair and leaned forward, clasping Sylvia’s hand. ‘Where have you been? Why didn’t you let us come to see you? Mum’s been worried sick.’
‘I didn’t want to shame her. How would she explain me to the neighbours?’
‘They don’t matter. It’s you that matters. What about Phil? Are you still with him?’
‘He died at Dunkirk. It’s just me and the baby now, but-I don’t know where he is. When they rescued me they must have found him as well. But where is he-where’s my baby?’ Her voice rose in anguish.
‘They’ll have taken him to another ward,’ Dee said reassuringly. ‘I’ll go and ask.’
She hurried out, seizing a phone to call an ambulance official, who promised to contact her in a few minutes. Then she called her mother, who gave a little shriek on hearing the news. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming. Tell her.’
Dee returned to the ward. Sylvia’s eyes had closed again and it would be best to let her sleep, at least until there was some news. A quick glance at the notes told her the worst. Sylvia had been badly injured. Her chances were poor.
‘No,’ Dee said to herself. ‘It can’t happen.’
But it could and she knew it.
She had other patients who needed her care, but while she was tending them her eyes constantly turned to the end of the ward, watching for Sylvia to wake. Part of her didn’t believe this was happening. And part of her knew that the worst was going to befall her despite her resolutions.
Hurry, she whispered inwardly to her mother, while there’s still time.
The ward sister approached and Dee explained briefly. ‘My mother will be here soon and-there she is, just coming in.’
‘Take care of her,’ the sister said kindly. ‘The others can do your work for a while.’
‘Where is she?’ Helen asked, running towards her in tears.
‘Mum, be ready for a shock. She’s badly hurt.’
Sylvia opened her eyes as her mother approached and Dee had the satisfaction of seeing them reach out to each other.
But then she saw the sister beckoning. Her face was grave. ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news,’ she said. ‘The baby was dead when they found him. They couldn’t tell her because she was unconscious.’
‘Oh, no,’ Dee whispered. ‘How can I tell her?’
Approaching the bed, she found Helen talking feverishly. ‘Just as soon as you can be moved, I’m taking you home, you and the baby, and you’ll live with us and we won’t care what the neighbours say. Everything’s going to be all right.’
‘Oh, yes, please, Mum…please…you’re going to love Joey. I named him after Dad.’
‘He’ll like that,’ Helen choked. ‘We’re all going to be so happy.’
Dee wondered if her mother really believed this. How much did she understand? Could she see that her daughter was dying, or was she spared that for the moment?
Sylvia’s eyes were closed and she was talking wildly, her breath coming in shaky gasps that were getting worse. ‘Mum…Mum…’
‘Yes, darling, I’m here. Hold on.’
But Sylvia was no longer capable of holding on. Her breath faded, her hands fell away.
‘No!’ The cry broke from Helen as she gathered her lifeless daughter in her arms. ‘No, you’ve got to stay with me. We’re going home together and I’m going to look after you… Sylvia…Sylvia!’
She burst into violent sobs, clutching her daughter’s body and shaking it, as though trying to infuse it with life, and crying her name over and over.
Dee felt for a pulse, although she knew it was useless. Her sister was dead.
Helen had recognised the truth and gently lay her child back on the bed.
‘We haven’t lost her,’ she choked. ‘Not really. We’ll look after the baby, and it’ll be like she’s still with us.’
‘Mum-’
Helen’s voice and her eyes became desperate. ‘We’ll do that, won’t we? We must find the baby and take him home. Yes, that’s what we’ll do…that’s what…what we…’ Her breath began to come in long gasps. She clutched her throat, then her heart while her eyes widened.
‘Help me,’ Dee cried, supporting Helen in her arms.
Helping hands appeared. An oxygen mask was fitted over Helen’s face but it was too late. The heart attack was massive and she was dead in minutes.
‘Go with them,’ the ward sister said as the two women were taken away to the hospital mortuary. ‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.’
‘It was bound to happen,’ Dee whispered. ‘When Sylvia went away she suffered badly, but she always nursed the hope they’d be reunited. Sylvia’s death destroyed her.’ Tears began to run down her face. ‘Oh, heavens! How am I going to tell my father? His wife, his daughter, his grandson, all on the same day.’
Now the shock was getting to her and she began to shiver uncontrollably. She was still shivering when Joe arrived at the hospital and joined her in the mortuary. His face was so pale and grey that for a dreadful moment she feared she was about to lose him, too.
She told him what had happened, adding, ‘Sylvia died in her arms.’
‘Then they found each other again,’ he said. ‘Thank God! Sylvia was always her favourite.’ Then he added gently, ‘Just like you were always mine.’
Until then, she’d never appreciated her father’s strength, but it was a new, tougher man who told her to leave the funeral arrangements to him because, ‘You’ve been through enough.’