Time blurred for Helen, shifting and morphing into an indefinable mess of pain and emotion. Glaring fluorescents overhead bit at her retinas whenever she opened her eyes, the scratchy linen beneath her body leaving her skin prickling with distaste.

Sometimes she would wake to company, other times alone.

Sometimes they hit her. Not too hard, just hard enough that her sense of balance would be lost and she'd crash to the ground, her stomach heaving.

Sometimes they bought food with them.

Sometimes they bought water.

And sometimes they bought needles.

Those were the worst times. The needles meant pain and that she would see things. They seared at her brain, making her think of things even if she didn't want to. The needles meant questions too.

They asked all kinds of things, sometimes they were things she could answer, other times just a blur of words that hurt her ears.

Normally, when her ears hurt, they'd hit her.

The only good thing about the needles though, was that when they were done with the questions and the pain, she was allowed to sleep. And, sometimes, when she awoke afterwards, she'd be all alone.

Blessedly alone.


"Oh please, Mama!" Helen begged, "You promised."

"I know, darling," she replied softly, patting Helen on the top of her head. "Perhaps another day, I'm not feeling the best."

"You said that yesterday too. And the day before. And the day before that."

Her mother made a pained face but Helen tried her best to ignore the twinge of guilt. Finally her governess had allowed her an entire week free of tedious studies and now her mother was unwilling to fulfil her promise. It was silly, she knew but she'd much rather learn the arts of 'ladylike behaviour', as it was often put to her, from her mother.

Helen adored her father more than she could ever explain but the moments she was granted with only her mother were just as delightful and, with the knowledge that her new sibling would likely require her mother's attention for years on end, she was determined to make the most of these coming weeks.

More than that, she was more than frustrated at the weather. It had been raining for weeks on end it seemed and now, finally the sun had appeared. She could accept that perhaps they'd not spend the afternoon in the gardens but to sit and sew was unacceptable to Helen's mind.

Trying to stifle a sigh, Helen spun about and dropped to the floor, her head resting on her mother's skirts. She shifted her own skirts until she could see her shoes, tapping the toes together. She heard her mother chuckle before a hand began to smooth down her curls.

"I'm sorry, my love," she whispered.

"It's alright," Helen said, trying her best not to let her disappointment show. "It's of no importance."

"Don't say that," her mother chastised. "Your education is of the utmost importance."

"Then why can I not go to Papa's work to learn?" she asked, twisting to look up over her mother's swollen belly. "He could teach me."

Her mother laughed softly, shaking her head and Helen almost rolled her eyes. It was only the memory of the chastisement she received last time that stopped her.

"Wouldn't you rather learn to keep a home?" she questioned fondly and Helen pulled a face.

"I try, I really do Mama but it... It's terribly boring."

"And what of your Papa's work is it that interests you?"

She could tell her mother was amused but Helen was adamant in her desire.

"He helps people, every day he gets to help people and learn and... and... and see more of the world than I shall ever get to see."

For all she was only 8 and ¾ of a year old, Helen knew she would never be granted full access to the world of her father regardless of how much she might wish the opposite. It made no sense to her mind. She was capable and her tutors had all said she was remarkably advanced for her tender age, why shouldn't she learn the craft of her father?

"Well," her mother mused, holding a hand down to help Helen to her feet. "Perhaps one day you shall succeed in your mission to wear down everyone and be admitted for medical practice."

Helen couldn't help but smile at her mother's words.

"Do you truly believe that?"

"I do," she said warmly. "Now help me stand."

Carefully Helen pulled her mother up, frowning as she swayed on her feet. She looked tired, her face paler and more drawn than normal. Even her eyes looked less alive than normal.

"Would you like some more tea?" Helen asked, certain that it could help to cure whatever it was that was ailing her mother. "Or is it the baby again?"

"I'm fine," she assured Helen, patting her belly. "The baby is fast asleep, I'm simply a little tired myself."

Helen frowned again but her mother stood straight, shaking back her own golden locks. She'd often wished she had her mother's hair. It was far straighter than her own with none of the curls that enjoyed creating messy tangles.

"Now come," her mother instructed, holding her hand out to Helen. "I shall teach you to walk like a woman. Perhaps we can find a way to mute that terrible lope you've inherited from your father."

"I do not lope," Helen cried, stepping back with her hands on her hips.

"You do too, little miss," her mother said, tapping her nose. "I shall have to teach you to walk like a proper lady."

"But you can barely walk," Helen countered. "Your belly is so large..."

"I do apologise for carrying your little sister," she teased and Helen made a face.

"Must it be a girl?" she asked. "I'd much rather a little brother."

"And why would that be? I always hoped that my mother would bring us more girls, never boys."

"But if it was to be a boy then he could learn from Papa and then teach me."

"By the time he was old enough to learn with your Papa, you will be married with children of your own," she said, taking Helen by the hand and leading her to an open stretch of the room.

"I do not want to marry."

"Not even when you're older?"

"Not ever," Helen said firmly.

"Are you so quick to deny me grandchildren?" she asked, a small smile upon her lips.

Helen sighed.

"Why must the two be married together?" she asked forlornly. Of course, she knew that to have a child out of wedlock was considered to be a great sin and the most certain way to ruin a reputation but she couldn't really see why. The entire concept was hazy and hidden from her which, of course, had made her curiosity burn. Her mother and father however, had told her very firmly to remove her mind from such pursuits.

"Children need love," her mother said, her voice a little softer than normal. "The love of two parents who love one another. Would you have preferred to grow up without your Papa?"

Helen sighed once more. Her mother was too smart most days.

"I suppose not."

"Alright, now stand straight. No more slouching."

Helen giggled as her mother grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up until she was almost on tip toes.

"Chin up," she continued. "You must pretend like you are the most regal, important being in the room whilst also being the most delightfully demure."

Again Helen giggled before swanning forward, head tilted back and her mother sighed heavily.

"What ever will become of me?" she asked dramatically. "I've raised an ungraceful duckling rather than an elegant swan."

"I am not a bird," Helen said with a grin. "Or if I am, you are an elephant."

Her mother let out a shocked gasp and Helen giggled once more, dashing forward and wrapping her arms around her mother as best she could. Carefully she pressed a kiss to the baby she knew was growing.

"You are as bad as your father," her Mama said, her hand once more slipping into the curls atop Helen's head. "Whenever he knows he has incurred my wrath he weakens my resolve with kisses and hugs."

At that Helen pulled back and wrinkled her nose. She'd seen the way her parents kissed and it was most unsettling.

She looked up just in time to see her mother's face crease into a grimace and her eyes widened.

"Mama?"

"I am fine, darling," she said, holding up a hand and shaking her head. "It shall pass. It always does."

"What passes?"

"The faint sensation," she replied, her voice barely audible. "It was the same when I carried you. I was sick for weeks at a time but no matter, show me your walk."

Rolling her eyes, Helen flounced away, readying herself. She'd barely taken one step forwards however when he gaze flicked back up to her mother's pale face.

"Mama?"

"I... I am..."

It all seemed to happen so slowly, her body tumbling to the ground face first as Helen's cry of fear reverberated around the room. The crack of flesh on hardwood floors was more sickening than Helen could have imagined and in a second she was flinging herself forwards, landing beside her mother's body.

"Mama!" she cried, tears already starting to form. "Mama, what is wrong?"

Crying, she shook her by the shoulders with all she had. It was her fault... Mama had been tired... She needed to rest, not play silly games.

"Mama..."

She wasn't replying. She always replied.

Crying even harder, Helen began to scream for all she was worth. She could hear the footsteps echoing from somewhere nearby but, between the hot tears streaming down her face and the guilt wrapping itself around her heart, she could focus on nothing but the way her Mama's skin felt feverish beneath her fingertips. She was hot, too hot.

"Oh, Mama..." she sobbed, clutching at the fabric pooled about her. "Mama, I'm so sorry."

She heard the shocked gasps, the wails from the maids and even a few quick commands to fetch doctors and such but she took in nothing more than the lifeless form of her Mama.


This is an accompaniment to my story about Helen's parents and how they met, and one which I had been toying with for a while. I like to think it slots in with the other story well, even if it was a teeny bit heartbreaking to write.

Anyway, enjoy and sorry for the delay. Today there were many boxes to pack and not nearly enough down time.

xx