The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,171
she whispered.
Dora rolled over on to her side to face her in the darkness. ‘Talk to your mum. I know you think you can’t do it, but you can,’ she urged, as Helen opened her mouth to argue. ‘What’s the worst she could do to you? Rant and rave a bit, perhaps. Give you a good hiding. But whatever she does, it can’t be that bad. All you’ve got to do is stand up to her.’
Stand up to her? Helen’s heart beat faster at the thought. ‘I’m not sure I can,’ she whispered.
‘It’s either that or lose Charlie,’ Dora said. ‘It’s up to you which you think you can bear.’
After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, Helen made up her mind. She had arranged to meet her mother during her afternoon break, after dinner. But late in the morning there had been an emergency on the ward, and Helen had been kept on to help deal with it. She had missed dinner but was still five minutes late as she hurried to the courtyard to meet her mother. Her stomach began to flutter when she saw Constance sitting on the bench under the trees.
She seemed so lost in thought she didn’t notice Helen until she had walked right up to her.
‘Mother?’
Constance looked up. ‘Oh, Helen. There you are.’ She had braced herself for the inevitable telling off for being late, so her mother’s wavering smile caught her completely off balance.
‘I – I’m sorry I’m late,’ she stammered. ‘There was an emergency.’
‘It doesn’t matter. These things happen in a hospital, don’t they?’ her mother dismissed it. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
Helen shook her head. ‘There wasn’t time.’
‘Then you must have something.’ Constance stood up, picked up her handbag and hooked it over her arm. ‘Come along.’
She led the way out on to the main road, striding purposefully ahead, with Helen trailing behind. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Where would you like to go?’
Helen stared at her, dumbfounded by the question. Her mother never asked her opinion about anything. ‘I – I don’t mind,’ she managed finally.
‘Then I suggest we find somewhere close by since I think it might rain.’ Her mother held her hand out and squinted up at the sky.
Helen looked up into the grubby clouds overhead. This wasn’t right. There was something very strange going on, she could feel it. And it was nothing to do with the weather, either.
As they approached the cafe, Helen realised with panic that it was the same place she and Charlie had been the previous night.
‘Should we go somewhere else?’ she suggested quickly.
Her mother frowned at her. ‘I didn’t think you had any preference?’
‘I – I don’t, but there’s another place on the other side of the park which I’ve heard is very nice,’ she invented hastily.
‘Nonsense, we’re here now.’ Constance was already opening the door. The bell over the door jangled, making Helen jump. She prayed the proprietor wasn’t around. She let out a sigh of relief as the curtains at the back of the cafe parted and a young girl appeared, carrying a tray laden with pots of tea.
As luck would have it, her mother chose exactly the same table in the window where Helen and Charlie had sat the day before. Helen picked up the menu and perused it listlessly, waiting for her mother to order.
The waitress came over, her pad poised. Helen listened as her mother went through her usual tiresome routine, questioning the girl closely about the freshness of the sandwiches and the quality of the tea: ‘Is it Indian? Do you warm the pot first? So many places don’t, and I can always tell, you know.’
Helen tuned out, gazing through the window at the street. Rain had started to spatter down on the pavements, sending people running for cover into doorways and under trees.
She wondered what Charlie was doing now. Had he kept his promise to find a car in which to make their escape? She smiled at the thought of what he was prepared to do to make sure they stayed together. With all the effort he was making, the least she could do was talk to her mother. And if her plan worked, they might not have to leave London at all.
‘Helen?’ Her mother’s sharp voice brought her back to reality. She looked up. Constance and the waitress were looking at her expectantly.
‘What do you want to order? The waitress doesn’t have all day, you know.’