Georgia

  Bert was just about to close up the café as Georgia got back, on an impulse Georgia put her head round the door.

  ‘Come and see the room,’ she begged him. ‘Helen’s been a real grouch. I’ll go mad if I don’t talk to someone.’

  ‘Okay,’ he smiled, guessing her request had more to do with worry about Helen than wanting to show her room off. ‘Put the kettle on, we’ll be up in a jiffy!’

  ‘Blimey ducks, what a difference!’ Babs gasped as she came in, quickly followed by Bert.

  Big was the only way to describe her, wide hips, sagging bosom, hands and feet. Even her features were big, from her sharp eyes, her nose and a sloppy, shapeless, humorous mouth. If Georgia’s features had been carved with a scalpel, Babs’s had been shaped by a trowel. Yet it was an interesting, mobile face for all that, and her clothes enhanced her slovenly, yet colourful image.

  Today, she wore a red jumper and a bright blue skirt, topped with a washed-out yellow pinny. Thick stockings with a hole hastily botched together, and a fraying wisp of pink petticoat trailed behind her.

  ‘What a little palace ducks. Don’t seem like the same room do it? Helen’s going to be knocked out.’

  Babs stood still, hands on her ample hips, her sharp eyes taking in every last detail.

  ‘She’s done this for Helen,’ she thought. ‘And I was the one who thought she’d be trouble when she turned up out of nowhere.’

  ‘You’ve done great,’ Bert cast his eyes round the room as if hoping to find something to criticise. ‘Not bad for a little ’un.’

  ‘If the singing don’t work you could always take up decorating,’ Babs chuckled. She put one big hand on Georgia’s shoulder. ‘Now tell us. ’Ow is she?’

  ‘Still very poorly,’ Georgia’s face fell, a doleful look back in the big dark eyes. ‘I just wish she’d look on the bright side of things. They say everything is healing well, but I don’t think she believes them.’

  ‘We was going up there Friday,’ Bert said. ‘I thought she was a fighter. She was always chirpy before, no matter what. If only she ’ad some family.’

  ‘She ’as,’ Babs said rather sharply. ‘Everyone up the market cares, and she’s got Georgia. I’ll ’ave to tell her a few ’ome truths.’

  ‘Don’t be sharp with her,’ Georgia turned to Babs, surprised by her tone. Babs was a mother figure to everyone. ‘We just have to love her out of it. The thing I’m most worried about is that she won’t be able to come to the Acropolis to see me. Not for me,’ she added quickly. ‘But she was dead set on having a lovely new dress and everything.’

  ‘Well we’ll just ’ave to jog her memory,’ Bert said, gazing appreciatively round the room. ‘Maybe if she’s got some goal in her mind she’ll buck up.’

  Georgia made them both some tea.

  ‘Do you mind if I paint the wardrobe and stuff?’ she asked. She wanted something more to fill up the empty hours till Helen came home. ‘They look a bit scruffy now.’

  ‘Course you can love,’ Bert sank into one of the armchairs and winced as a spring shot up into his behind. ‘I think we can find a better couple of chairs an’ all.’

  ‘Really?’ Georgia leant over him and kissed him on the cheek impulsively.

  He smiled across at his wife. ‘Those green ’uns would look a treat in ’ere wouldn’t they?’

  Babs laughed, her wide mouth showing blackened teeth. ‘I should take lessons from you in ’ow to get round my old man.’

  Helen was propped up in bed on Thursday night when Georgia went in as usual. A book open on the sheet in front of her and a huge basket of flowers by her bed from the stallholders in the market. Dozens of cards were propped up everywhere.

  Once again she reminded Georgia of those ladies in old paintings. Her hair showering over the shoulders of the white, almost Victorian nightdress. Her eyes were still listless, but there was a faint hint of pink in her cheeks.

  ‘I’m never going to walk again,’ she said gloomily.

  ‘Who said so?’ Georgia gasped.

  ‘No one. I just know. They all feel sorry for me but it doesn’t help.’

  Georgia was torn two ways. Although Helen looked small and vulnerable in the big bed she knew her friend was tough. Should she sympathize and continue to let her wallow in self pity? Or should she be brutal to make her snap out of it?

  ‘There’s only one person who can make you walk again and that’s you.’

  The moment the sharp words were out she felt a deep shame, but it was too late to retract them.

  ‘You think you are so bloody clever, don’t you?’ Helen sniffed. ‘Everything you want comes to you. I bet you’re glad I’m in here, I expect you have friends round every night, glad I’m not around to interfere.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m having a ball,’ Georgia shot back. ‘I come here straight from work, tired and hungry and go back to an empty room alone.’

  ‘Don’t give me that,’ Helen pursed up her small mouth. ‘I’m not stupid, even if I’m crippled, every night you’ve been here you can’t wait to get out!’

  Georgia just stared at Helen in shock.

  ‘That’s not true,’ she said weakly. ‘But if you’re going to be like that, I will go.’

  ‘Go on then,’ Helen’s cheeks were flushed. ‘Go down and see Janet, she makes you laugh. Ask her to take you down the strip club.’

  ‘All right, I will,’ Georgia turned away from the bed, colour draining from her cheeks. ‘If you think that little of me, then I won’t come back until you ask me to. Goodbye!’

  She had made some curtains during the day at work when Pop wasn’t watching. They were only cheap dress cotton but colourful and bright. She had been looking forward to hanging them, but now she felt resentful and bitter.

  ‘I don’t know why I’m bothering,’ she said, her voice echoing around the room. ‘Heaven knows I’m doing all I can for her.’

  She hung them anyway, tidied up and then crawled into bed feeling depressed and guilty.

  ‘I shouldn’t have walked out like that,’ she said to herself. ‘I should have told her what I had been doing.’

  As Bert and Babs were going to see Helen the next evening she went home instead with Janet. She’d had enough of her own company and a bit of laughter seemed the perfect antidote.

  ‘You did the right thing,’ Janet reassured her. ‘Leave her be till tomorrow, she’ll have come round then. Poor kid, I expect she’s feeling as bad about it as you.’

  It was after eleven when she walked home, still chuckling to herself about Janet’s family, when she spotted a policeman knocking on the door where she lived.

  Her first reaction was to run. For the last year police had been her biggest fear and she still hadn’t quite got over it.

  But reason got the better of her and she crossed over to where he stood, one hand on the bell.

  He was young, male, surely she could think of some way to wriggle out of any trouble.

  ‘Can I help?’ she asked, smiling brightly up into his lean face, batting her eyelashes when she realized he was nice-looking in a rather severe way. ‘I live here.’

  ‘I’m trying to find Georgia James,’ he said, blushing a little under her scrutiny.

  ‘That’s me,’ she said taking out her key.

  ‘I’ve been asked to take you to the Middlesex Hospital,’ he said. ‘You have a friend –’

  ‘Helen?’ she interrupted him, no longer caring if he looked like a film star. She turned pale under the street light. ‘Has she?’ she paused unable to say the word.

  ‘She’s very ill,’ he said gently, his brown eyes grave as he removed his helmet. ‘She’s been asking for you. Can you come now?’

  He bundled her into a car and drove off at speed.

  Georgia prayed silently as the car sped along the near empty streets.

  ‘What time were you called?’ she asked him.

  ‘Around eight thirty,’ he said, glancing across at her, seeing the big tears squeezing out from under her lo
ng lashes. ‘It seems two other people had visited her earlier. She was poorly then but got worse after they left. I’ve been all round the neighbourhood trying to find you.’

  ‘It’s the first night I’ve been out other than to visit her.’ Georgia was crying now. ‘I was nasty to her yesterday too. Oh God, please don’t let her die!’

  ‘Now calm down,’ he said soothingly. ‘People often have ups and downs after ops, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll die. Besides you must go in there with a confident face, be strong for her. Is it the little redhead with the bad leg?’

  ‘Yes, do you know her?’ Somehow it was comforting to think this young policeman knew about her.

  ‘Only by sight,’ he said softly. ‘Plucky little thing, always smiling even when she was frozen solid on that stall. Give her my regards won’t you?’

  Georgia ran like the wind once inside the hospital. Up the stairs two at a time, her hair streaming out behind her like a black flag.

  It was quiet, the corridors deserted. The lights turned down for the night, bathed in a soft glow. There was none of the hustle and bustle of the day, just the odd clang of a bedpan on the sluice, and the tip-tapping sound of nurses’ shoes on the polished floor.

  ‘Sister!’ she called as she turned the corner and saw a familiar back view.

  Sister Hall turned at her name, and came quickly towards Georgia, her hands outstretched. The thin tall woman had concern in every line of her body.

  ‘Oh Georgia, I’m so glad they could find you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Helen’s very sick I’m afraid.’

  ‘Why?’ Georgia’s eyes grew huge with fright, filling up with tears. ‘She was doing so well.’

  The sister smoothed down her apron, her lips quivering as if unable to find the right words.

  ‘We discovered an infection had set in earlier today, she was a bit feverish and we gave her more antibiotics. But her heart is weak too. We knew this before we operated and she fully understood the risk. Now it’s her heart which is giving up.’

  ‘Is she going to die?’

  Sister put one hand on Georgia’s shoulder. Her expression saying it all.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ she whispered, he eyes glinting with tears.

  Georgia just stared at the Sister.

  ‘But she can’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve painted our room and everything.’

  Sister half smiled.

  ‘I wish everyone could be cured with something so simple,’ she said softly. ‘Helen’s a very brave girl. She has moaned to you because you were the only one she had. Go on in there now and try to comfort her. Tell her how much you care.’

  Georgia had no experience with death. She stood for a moment trying to collect herself. She had faced the fact that Helen could possibly be left more crippled than she was before, but never had the possibility of her dying entered her head.

  Everything about the hospital seemed strange and dreamlike. The silent, empty corridors, the yellowish night lights, the smell of antiseptic. She blinked, hoping she was merely dreaming it, and that any moment she would find herself back in bed.

  Helen had been moved to a small room at the end of the ward, partitioned off with glass, curtains all round.

  She was very still, ghostly pale. Her hair cascaded over the pillow like molten lava, her eyes closed, golden lashes lying on her cheeks. Arms as thin as sticks on the sheet, the long slender fingers which normally moved constantly, still and white.

  Her mouth looked like a young child’s, so small and innocent, perfectly shaped, lips slightly parted.

  Georgia crept to the side of the bed and leaned over her friend.

  ‘Helen,’ she said softly.

  Her eyes opened.

  ‘Georgia,’ she said weakly, struggling to move.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ Georgia put one restraining hand on Helen’s shoulder, feeling only bone under the white nightdress. She touched Helen’s face lightly with one gentle caress. ‘What sort of time is this to want to see a friend?’

  Helen’s lips moved faintly in a flicker of amusement.

  ‘Did you get the curtains up?’

  ‘Yes,’ Georgia took a deep breath, glad that Helen had led her into something other than her illness. ‘You wait till you see our room. It’s like a palace now. White walls, yellow door. I’ve even painted all the furniture yellow. It’s like being in permanent sunshine.’

  For a second Helen didn’t answer. Her green eyes studied Georgia’s face, as if she were trying hard to memorize it.

  ‘You’ve been like sunshine to me ever since I met you,’ she said at length, her voice faint and breathless.

  ‘And you’re my best and dearest friend,’ Georgia said, taking Helen’s small hand and holding it to her lips. ‘I love you. I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. I only didn’t come because Bert and Babs were.’

  ‘I know that,’ Helen turned her head slightly and looked hard at Georgia. ‘They told me about the room. How you did it for me. I felt so ashamed at what I said about you having friends round there.’

  ‘It didn’t matter,’ Georgia felt tears threatening to run down her cheeks. ‘You’ll see it soon, I’ll teach you to dance and we’ll find ourselves a couple of rich men to take us out.’

  ‘You do it all for me,’ Helen’s voice was almost a whisper. ‘Become a big star in the West End, wear lovely clothes and have hundreds of admirers. I’ll be watching you.’

  ‘You’ll do it with me!’ Georgia tried to sound bossy and hard but it came out like a plea.

  ‘I’m dying, Georgia,’ Helen spoke softly, one thin white hand reaching up to touch her friend’s face, her expression one of tenderness. ‘I knew I would after the op, it was all a dream, a lovely dream of dancing and being like you. But you must carry on, make my dream a reality.’

  ‘I can’t without you,’ Georgia’s tears couldn’t stop now. ‘You are my family, everything.’

  ‘Don’t cry for me,’ Helen’s eyes brimmed over. ‘I’m not scared or anything now, I feel peaceful and content. I’m too tired of struggling, I’m happy to be going to a place where there’s no pain, no striving for anything.’

  ‘But how will I manage without you? You are my only friend.’

  ‘You’ll make new ones. Girls who won’t hold you back like I would.’

  ‘You wouldn’t hold me back,’ Georgia pleaded with her, clutching Helen’s hand and kissing the palm.

  ‘It’s the way it has to be,’ Helen’s eyes seemed like emeralds, set on white velvet. ‘Just think of me going somewhere good. Everything I have is yours. In the bottom of the wardrobe is a box. There’s something special for you in there.’

  She made a choking sound in her throat, a flicker of pain passed across her face, her eyes closed.

  Georgia put her finger on the bell. She could hear her own heart pounding with terror, but she was afraid to leave Helen even to summon help.

  Sister came running in.

  She moved round to the other side of the bed and felt Helen’s pulse, her eyes meeting Georgia’s tear-filled ones across the tiny redhead.

  Helen opened her eyes again slowly.

  ‘Sing to me?’

  Helen looked at Sister with wide and troubled eyes.

  Sister nodded.

  ‘I can’t, not in here,’ she whispered.

  ‘Please,’ Helen’s eyes pleaded. ‘Just let me hear you one more time?’

  It was so quiet in the small room. Georgia was aware of other patients sleeping just the other side of the partition. It seemed all wrong, to sing while her dearest friend slipped away.

  ‘Sing, Georgia,’ Sister Hall whispered. ‘Forget where you are.’

  Georgia took a deep breath to calm herself.

  ‘Summertime. When the living is easy.’ Georgia’s rich contralto voice rang out around the small room.

  ‘The fish are jumping and the cotton is high. Your pa is rich and mama’s good lookin’.’ She looked down at Helen, her eyes were still glowing, yet they appeared
to be getting dimmer.

  ‘So hush little baby don’t ya cry.’

  Helen’s face was at peace again, her eyes on Georgia, drinking in the words and the music.

  ‘One of these days, you’re gonna rise up singin’, you’re gonna spread your wings and fly to the sky. One of these days you gonna rise up singing. So hush little baby, don’t ya cry.’

  Georgia felt something in the hand in hers. Not a movement or even a flicker, but she knew without being told Helen had gone.

  ‘No,’ she cried out, leaning over to kiss her friend.

  ‘She can’t,’ she looked up in anguish at the Sister.

  Sister silently closed Helen’s eyes and put her two hands together on the sheet. Then she moved round the bed to embrace Georgia.

  ‘I never saw a more beautiful and peaceful death,’ she said softly, holding Georgia against her shoulder. ‘Your voice and song took her where she wanted to be. Now you must be strong too. She told me about your singing, she was so very proud of you. You must let her be your inspiration. Achieve everything she wanted for you.’

  Georgia refused a lift home. London’s streets held no terrors for her. It wasn’t strangers she had to fear. But people she knew and trusted.

  Well she had no one now. Her mother, Peter, and now Helen, all gone.

  The dark streets and alleys reflected her feelings. Dark, desolate, empty. Shafts of light here and there from street lamps splayed out an arc of gold light over a small area.

  Her life was just like that. A patch of light and happiness, only to go a little further and she was back in the darkness, alone again.

  If she had known the risk Helen was taking she would have prevented it somehow. How could Helen have been so foolish if she knew her heart was weak too?

  Wearily she climbed the stairs and opened the door of her room.

  As she switched on the light, the first thing she saw was the woolly, emerald green shawl Helen put round her shoulders on cold nights.

  She picked it up and held it to her face, drinking in the smell of Helen it carried in it, remembering the colour of her eyes.

  There was no one to see her now, here alone with all the memories of Helen she could mourn her privately.