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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: EMPIRE NOW
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THE MID-MORNING SUN WAS unforgiving. Helen kept her eyes firmly shut, face pressed into her pillow, desperately trying to cling to the remnants of a broken night's sleep. Behind her, a small body shifted on the bed. The sheets rustled and a high-pitched whine interrupted the faint call of birds through the open window. Still, she kept her eyes shut; then, a hand — calloused, persistent, setting Helen on fire — traced a deliberate path from her shoulder down to the base of her spine beneath her shift. All hope of a lie-in was immediately lost.
"Nellie?"
It was Tommy, his voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. He carefully manoeuvred Charlie so he was no longer sitting between them. Charlie babbled incoherently to his father but quickly curled up against the headboard, easily distracted by James' bear, Frankie, that James had graciously decided he would share with the younger boy when he and Helen first moved in. Tommy made sure Charlie was comfortable behind him before he sought out Helen again, finally eliciting a faint 'good morning' as his hands returned beneath her shift and settled on her stomach.
"Are you alright?" she asked next, her skin prickling from the unpleasant rush of cold air against her face. "Are you in pain?"
"No," Tommy answered.
He didn't say anything else. Helen let herself lay there for as long as she could before the weight on her bladder started getting uncomfortable and she regretfully peeled herself away from him.
"I'm going to freshen up for the day," she decided, pausing at the foot of the bed to look down at Tommy. He was laid on his back — Charlie playing obliviously beside him — his eyes shamelessly admiring Helen's figure. She smiled at him, still somewhat sleepy, before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.
She could hear James' voice down the hallway; he seemed content enough to bother the maids for a little while longer, so she discarded her shift and stepped behind the partition to clean herself up. She reached for a fresh wash cloth, pleased that Mary had already warmed the water in the metal tub for her. The closer she got to her baby's birth, she tried to relax her uncomfortable muscles with morning and evening baths. Sometimes it worked but often it didn't.
A few minutes later, once she'd gotten through the menial routine of cleaning herself, the bathroom door opened and Tommy stepped up to the sink. He didn't look at her as he poured something down the drain, but Helen caught the unmistakable white label of his morphine and made an audible sound of disapproval.
"You alright, Nel?" he asked, returning her pointed stare in the mirror.
He knew what she thought of him pouring out his medicine. She'd made it known at first, furious when she discovered the empty vials lined up on the bathroom window ledge. Helen even wondered if he did it on purpose, trying to get a reaction out of her by displaying them. Now, she merely scoffed and shifted down so that her shoulders were underneath the water. Tommy washed his face and teeth, ran a comb through his hair, then came to sit beside her on the low wooden bench they used for a sideboard.
