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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: STILL LIFE ( trigger warning: mentions of violence and childbirth )
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THE KITCHEN WAS COLD as the early embers of a fire crept to life beneath Polly’s meticulously steady hands. A draught tried its best to withstand the heat of the flames as it blew beneath the closed front door. Rain lashed against the windows, battered against the roof above their heads like gunshots as Helen stood haunched, splayed hands pressed to the table, struggling to breathe around the lump in her throat.
This couldn’t be happening.
Girl met God with her head held high but Girl was playing a losing game that God would always be the victor of. It was a fact of life. She knew that. But how was she meant to stop fighting? Was it that easy? Simply allowing time to slip past until nothing remained?
“Tommy, help Nel into the living room,” Polly ordered not for the first time since they returned to the main house in Watery Lane.
Pacing in the doorway that led through to the Betting Shop, where fragments of the telephone had been thrown in a fit of rage, Tommy ignored his aunt. He was so deep in his own head that Helen truly believed he couldn’t hear them. Only her gasps of pain seemed to rouse him. Fleetingly, his head would snap towards her, cold eyes scanning her for surface-level injuries. Once he was satisfied nothing had changed, he’d return to his pacing. It was clear he was struggling to think of ways to find their boys.
James.
What was the last thing Helen had said to her son? She couldn’t remember. In a state of panic, she found she couldn’t quite recall his face or the sound of his voice. What if God took him from her and she never got to commit them to memory again?
No.
That couldn’t be an option.
“Polly, get this baby out of me,” she demanded, gritting her teeth when another wave of pain threatened to sweep her off her feet. She held on tight until it eased again but Helen couldn’t deny that it was only getting worse. Her knees had started to buckle. Her skin was slick with sweat. “I need to be out there!”
Polly levelled her with a stern look. “Nel, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t work like that.”
Helen sobbed and turned away.
“Tommy,” she managed to whimper, and then he was beside her, forcing himself to grasp her hand, to hold her up when she couldn’t do it herself anymore. He kissed the crown of her head, gasping shallow breaths like his lungs were overflowing with water. “Help me sit, please.”
