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Ish! Ish! He could help her. She clicked on his profile to send him a DM. There was a message in her inbox already from him, unanswered.
Damn it. Why hadn’t she responded? Hopefully he wouldn’t hold it against her:
Helen:Ish! Sorry I thought I’d responded to this already. Thanks so much for your help that night :-)
Would it be really cheeky for me to ask for your help again?
Helen just had time to go and make herself yet another mug of tea when her phone buzzed with a response.
Ish:Can’t knock a chancer!
How can I help?
Helen:Okay I know this sounds crazy but my nan is very unwell and I’m hoping to track down a lost love of hers. I have a London address from the 40s and a first name, any good?
Ish:Sorry to hear Hels …
Great plan though, I’m all up for matchmaking some oldies.
And yes I should be able to work with that :-)
Helen:Amazing!
I’m back in London tomorrow. Maybe we could grab a coffee?
Ish:Come to mine?
Not like that ^^^!
I just have all my gear at home and it will be easier for me to help ya.
Helen:Okay sounds like a plan.
Thanks Ish!
Chapter 19
Helen’s train home was later that afternoon. Her mum had promised her that she would let her know if anything changed, and for once Helen wasn’t in a hurry to leave. There was nothing for her in London. It was just a gloopy swamp of bad dates, humid tubes, and overpriced everything. If she stepped outside her front door, she’d always end up spending at least £20. She’d have to get better at staying in, actually focusing on her work, and being organised. She was going to read that book Sophie had given her for Christmas,The Magical Art of Foldingor something like that.
No more distracting herself with expensive lattes, Uber rides, and haircuts; she fiddled nervously with the tips of her balayage, which probably didn’t suit her anyway. She needed to stop living like some high-flying executive, on a woeful freelance budget, it was embarrassing. Some of her friends were even buying houses! Sophie would probably get married soon. Elle would get married as soon as she decided she couldn’t be bothered being single anymore; and Helen would be left on the shelf in an overpriced Hackney studio …
Nanny G would never live long enough to see her settle down, have children, or make a success of herself. Not that it was at all likely that she was ever going to do any of those things. Helen clenched her face to stop a tear from sliding down her cheeks; she wasn’t going to say goodbye to Nanny G like this! She rubbed her eyes furiously with her jumper sleeve, she really annoyed herself sometimes.
Her nan was still very ill. Their local doctor had been shuffling in and out of her parent’s annexe nervously every day for a week now, and when Helen passed him, he’d hold his breath, avoid eye contact and clutch his doctor’s bag across his chest, like any form of communication would wound him. Helen’s mum had long since pronounced him useless and had been hitting the NHS website hard for alternative solutions.
She’d got a humidifier whirring in the already too-cramped annexe and had piled cushions behind Nanny G, leaving one on her lap for her to coil over. It didn’t look very comfortable. Helen was trying to quietly clear the pile of plates that was accumulating on Nanny G’s bedside table from her mum’s many attempts at getting her to eat something other than ginger nut biscuits, or semolina.
A fork nervously clattered against the side of a neatly cling-filmed plate.
Nanny G’s eyes fluttered open, and she managed a faint smile. ‘Helen?’
‘Hi, Nan. Sorry I was tidying away, get some rest.’ Helen reached over and pulled the blanket back around her shoulders.
‘I’m sure I’ll get plenty of rest where I’m going.’ Nanny G’s smile broadened. ‘I’d like to talk to you before you go, you’re the only person I can speak to … your dad and Henry never say more than two words, and your mum, well, she keeps fussing over me.’
‘I think you should let us fuss over you, Nan.’ Helen took Nanny G’s hand. ‘I got your letters by the way.’
‘Good. I wanted you to have them, I know you’ll keep them safe.’
