by Pam Weaver
Annie remembered feeling uncomfortable and a little bit angry as well. This was a part of Henry’s life that she knew absolutely nothing about. Who were these people? Had they died in the war? Were they relatives or just friends? Why hadn’t he told her about them? Pushing the photographs back into a pile, she’d wiped a renegade tear away from her cheek and stood up. The bank book had been a pleasant surprise. It was in their joint names and there was a healthy £500/14/6 in the account. £500! She couldn’t believe her luck. This, she had felt sure, would keep her very well until Henry was released. Of course, she would use it frugally, but it did mean she could travel to Lewes by train to see Henry as often as she wanted. A wave of relief had swept over her. Everything was going to be all right after all.
Considering that the lock on the drawer was already broken, she tucked the wedding certificate, the brooch and the bank book into her handbag for safekeeping and put everything else back into the drawer.
It didn’t take her long to get ready to go back into town. She had planned to take the wedding certificate to Mr West as soon as she had drawn some money from the bank. She’d never actually written a cheque before but she had seen her father do it hundreds of times. She’d handed it to the cashier who’d studied it for a few seconds and then stood up. ‘If you will excuse me Mrs Royal, I have to check something with the manager.’
Annie was puzzled. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes,’ the cashier assured her, ‘I won’t be a minute.’
He’d left the counter for a few minutes and came back with the bank manager. The manager was very polite as he asked her to step into his office. Annie thought it a little odd, but as they were both being so pleasant, she didn’t dream anything was amiss.
‘Is this your bank book?’ he’d asked. Annie sat opposite him at the desk.
‘Mine and my husband’s,’ Annie smiled pleasantly. ‘My husband has had to go away on business and I need a little cash.’
‘I see,’ said the manager. He was turning the book over and over in his hands. ‘I was a little concerned because the signature in the book and your signature are different.’
Annie returned his gaze. ‘My husband usually draws our money.’
‘This book hasn’t been used for ten years,’ said the manager, ‘and to be perfectly frank, I don’t believe it’s yours. You’ve stolen it.’
Annie leapt to her feet. ‘That’s not true!’ And at the same time a policeman walked into the office. The two men conferred together while she protested her innocence, but it was no use. She had been asked to accompany the policeman to the station, which was a few doors away and where she now waited. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. How much longer were they going to keep her here?
She replaced her compact and closed her handbag just as two men in plain clothes came into the room. They put a file onto the table.
‘My name is Detective Sergeant Hacker,’ said the first one, ‘and this is Detective Constable Green. I’m sure that in your present condition you don’t want to be here any longer than you have to, so I’ll get straight to the point.’
‘I appreciate that,’ Annie nodded.
‘Good,’ said DS Hacker. ‘So perhaps you would explain to me why you tried to access someone else’s account at the bank and how you came to have that brooch in your handbag.’
So Annie told them. She told them that Henry was on remand, and that he was innocent. ‘It’s all a terrible mistake,’ she said quickly as the policeman raised his eyebrow. She told them about his locked drawer and her desperate need of money. She told them about Mr West and that she had only gone to the bank to get two guineas for him and a few shillings for her own needs. She pointed out that the size of the cheque she had written was tantamount to proof of that. Wouldn’t she, she asked them, have written a cheque for the whole of the five hundred pounds had she been a thief? They listened without interruption until she sat back in the chair.
‘Umm,’ said DS Hacker, looking sceptical. ‘There’s only a couple of small problems with all that, Mrs Royal. The names on the bank book are for a Mr and Mrs Royale, spelt with an “e”, and the brooch has been reported stolen.’
*
Whenever Sarah saw Mrs Rivers now, the older woman hurried on her way without speaking to her. Sarah was deeply hurt. They had been such friends before. Nat seemed to enjoy creeping up behind her in the butchers or the pub and shouting ‘Boo!’ or something silly like that. If only she could do something about him. She was sure he was still knocking his mother about but she knew that until Mrs Rivers made a personal complaint, the police treated all such incidents as ‘domestic’.
One ray of sunshine in a series of dark days was the fact that Mr Lovett had secured several orders. The number and the timescale was a bit daunting – six romper suits and five dresses in a little under three weeks – but if he paid her as well as he had done before, Sarah would give it a go. However, she was shrewd enough not to show her excitement just yet.
‘I’ve no money for materials,’ she said. They were in Mrs Angel’s shop and there were no other customers because Mrs Angel had pulled down the blind for a few minutes so that they could speak in private.
‘Just tell Mrs Angel what you require and I’ll settle up with her later,’ he said.
The relief Sarah felt was palpable. If she could carry on with this, life would be so much easier for herself and the girls. All she had to do was get through the next few weeks on what little money she did have, although after seeing Henry’s lovely house, it galled her that she still had this perpetual struggle. It wasn’t right that she and the girls should be scrimping and scraping, barely able to keep body and soul together, while Henry and that trollop lived so well.
‘So,’ Mr Lovett beamed. He was holding out his hand. ‘Do we have a deal, Mrs Royal?’ Sarah put her hand in his and shook it warmly as he added, ‘Then I shall be back in the middle of the month.’
As soon as he’d gone, Sarah rushed around the counter to hug Mrs Angel.
‘No need for that, dear,’ said the old woman, stepping back, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. ‘I only did what anyone else would do.’
‘You did more than that,’ Sarah insisted. ‘You are the only person in the world who has offered me any practical help and I can never repay you for your kindness.’
‘No need to,’ said Mrs Angel, getting a couple of bolts of material down from the shelf. ‘I hardly like to ask, but how did you get on when you saw your husband?’
Sarah told her briefly what had happened and explained that, given what she had seen, she wanted to claim maintenance for the children.
‘You’ll have to get a solicitor to deal with that,’ said Mrs Angel.
‘And that takes money,’ said Sarah sourly.
‘You can apply for a legal certificate,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘That means you don’t have to pay. Would you like me to ask around? I shall be discreet.’
‘You’re very kind, Mrs Angel,’ said Sarah, ‘but I don’t want everybody knowing my business.’
Mrs Angel nodded sagely. ‘My dear, it’s already in the paper. Didn’t you know?’
Sarah’s mouth went dry. Mrs Angel went into the back room beyond her shop and came back with the Gazette. The front page was dominated by a story about a woman’s body being found near the pier, but Mrs Angel opened it to page five and pointed to a small paragraph headed ‘Worthing man remanded in custody.’ In the brief article, she read that Henry Arthur Royale had been remanded in custody to appear at Lewes Assizes on two charges, one of bigamy and another of theft. Sarah felt the colour drain from her face. She had blanked everything else out and had been so consumed by Henry’s reaction and the way he’d treated Jenny; but now things looked really bad. Henry really had married that girl and, to top it all, he was being accused of theft as well.
‘When he comes up before the judge,’ she said, ‘I need to be in court.’
‘Haven’t the police talked to you, dear?’ Sarah sh
ook her head. ‘Then he must have been married to another woman,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘Don’t you see?’ she added as she saw Sarah’s puzzled frown. ‘Someone else has made a complaint.’
Sarah gasped. ‘You mean it’s not just me?’ She remembered the comment the desk sergeant had made when she rang the police.
‘If you make a complaint as well,’ said Mrs Angel, ‘they will get you to court.’
Armed with two yards of material and some embroidery silks, Sarah had plenty to think about as she walked back home. One thing was for sure. She would do as Mrs Angel suggested. She would report her marriage and go to court.
*
The detective who had interviewed Annie was terrifying. In his forties, and with a greasy, pockmarked face, he was very much a dominating force, aggressive and loud. Annie was respectful and did her best to field his questions, whilst at the same time, struggling not to cry.
‘Where did you get this bank book?’
‘I’ve already told you, from my husband’s drawer.’
‘You must have seen the name.’
‘I didn’t notice the “e” until you said.’
‘But it was obvious.’
‘I know. I can see that now, but I honestly didn’t notice at the time.’
‘Is your initial “K”?
‘No.’
‘Then you must have known the book didn’t belong to you.’
‘No … that is … Maybe I saw it but it didn’t really register. I was upset …’
He banged the book onto the table, making her jump. ‘I think you knew very well what you were doing, young lady,’ he shouted. ‘You saw a bank book with £500 pounds in it and you thought, Ah, I’ll have some of that.’
Annie was alarmed. ‘It wasn’t like that!’
‘So you passed yourself off as Mrs K Royale.’
‘No,’ Annie protested again. ‘I only wanted enough money to pay Mr West and to go and see my husband.’
‘But you haven’t got a husband, have you?’ he sneered. ‘I can see you are having a baby, but you’re not married. You’re living in sin.’
‘I am not!’ Annie cried indignantly. ‘How dare you say that! I am married and you’ve got my wedding certificate to prove it.’
The two men looked at each other, then DS Hacker closed his folder and stood up. ‘All right, Mrs Royal,’ he said. ‘For the moment we’re giving you the benefit of the doubt. We’re keeping the bank book, and the jeweller concerned doesn’t want to press charges, but remember that impersonation is a very serious offence. You are free to go.’
As they led her away from the poky little room and back to the entrance, Annie struggled not to give way to tears. She wasn’t going to give that horrible man the pleasure of seeing her break down, but when she reached the front desk all her plans went out of the window. A man and a woman stood up as she came through and the woman called her name. With a loud sob, Annie threw herself in her parents’ arms.
Seven
When she told the police why she had come, Sarah was shown into a small room near the reception area. As he opened the door, the desk sergeant shouted over his shoulder, ‘Constable, get Bear and get this lady a cup of tea.’
‘He’s with the relatives of that woman found by the pier, Sarge,’ said the constable.
‘Tell him all the same,’ said the Sergeant, nodding kindly at Sarah. ‘I think he’ll want to see Mrs Royal.’
The tea came first and Sarah struggled to control her hand. She was trembling. Perhaps she shouldn’t have started this. Maybe it would have been best to leave things as they were. Twenty minutes later, she had finished the tea and was just thinking about making her escape when the door opened and a huge man entered the room. He leaned over the table to shake her hand, ‘Detective Sergeant Truman,’ he smiled. ‘I am so sorry I kept you waiting. How can I be of help?’
Sarah immediately understood why they called him Bear. He wasn’t fat and flabby, far from it. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, he had a warm smile and kind eyes. He was surprisingly softly spoken and he listened attentively as she told him about Henry. He took everything down and when he’d finished, he said, ‘We would want you to say all this in court. You will come, won’t you?’ Sarah hesitated. ‘If it’s transport that’s the problem, I can arrange that for you,’ he said kindly. ‘And should you need to employ someone to care for your children, that can be arranged as well.’
He saw Sarah to the door and they shook hands once again. Bear watched her as she hurried down the street towards the school.
‘Everything all right?’ the desk sergeant asked.
Bear shook his head. ‘Things will never be the same for her, poor girl, and there’s something about that Henry Royale that sticks in my craw. Something’s not quite right.’
‘You can say that again,’ chuckled the desk sergeant. ‘Looks like he’s already married half the bloody county.’
‘It’s more than that,’ said Bear, turning to leave. There was a frown on his face. ‘But don’t you worry. I’ll find out what it is and then I’ll have him.’
*
The rest of the mothers were already waiting and the teacher had sent the children to meet them as Sarah reached the school gates. Jenny came running towards her holding a piece of paper in the air and with her cardigan only on by one sleeve.
‘I drew you a picture, Mummy,’ she cried happily.
Sarah smiled at the drawing as she put her daughter’s arm back into the sleeve and gave her a kiss. Her plaits were untidy and she was missing a ribbon. ‘It’s in my pocket,’ Jenny said as Sarah waved the bare plait in front of her nose.
As she stood up, Sarah suddenly felt her elbow being held in a vice-like grip. ‘I need to talk to you,’ her sister Vera hissed in her ear.
‘I have to get back …’ Sarah began.
‘It won’t take a minute,’ Vera insisted. She pulled Lu-Lu’s pram into a corner of the playground and slapped a newspaper into Sarah’s hand. ‘What have you done?’
Sarah didn’t need to look at the article to know what it was about. Worthing man on theft and bigamy charges.
‘What have I done?’ said Sarah, snatching her elbow away. ‘I did nothing except marry someone who apparently wasn’t free to marry.’
‘Bill isn’t happy about this being in the paper,’ Vera went on crossly. ‘You need to get it cleared up quickly.’
‘Vera … it’s not my fault.’
‘How could you?’ Vera spat. ‘Dragging the family name through the mud.’
‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,’ said Sarah. Jenny and Carole were playing tag and thankfully out of earshot. Lu-Lu sat bolt upright in her pram sucking her thumb and twiddling her hair, obviously concerned by the tone of their conversation. Sarah caressed her daughter’s cheek and smiled, while inwardly thanking God she didn’t understand what was being said. ‘This is none of my doing.’
‘You must have told the police about him. Why didn’t you tell Bill and let us deal with it in the family?’
‘Actually,’ Sarah said deliberately. ‘I wasn’t the one who reported him and I’ve only just been to the police station to tell them that I’m his wife as well.’
‘What do you mean as well? Are you saying there’s more than two of you?’
‘Apparently,’ said Sarah.
Vera took in her breath. ‘Bloody hell, Sarah.’
‘I have to go to court,’ Sarah went on. ‘I may not have to testify but I have to be there.’
‘When?’
‘Three weeks.’
Her sister looked thoughtful. ‘Well, it’s a good thing we don’t share the same surname anymore, but I don’t know what Bill is going to say about all this.’
Sarah felt her cheeks flame, but she resisted the temptation to hit her. Her sister had always been self-centred, but now she was being crass. Where was the sympathy; the concern? ‘I need someone to look after Jenny and Lu-Lu while I go.’
‘I don’t think …’ Vera began
.
‘The court will pay a small fee to whoever looks after them for me.’
Vera hesitated. ‘All right, I’ll talk to Bill about it,’ she said, ‘but for goodness’ sake, keep away from any newspaper reporters.’
*
It was raining hard when Annie got home. She had been glad to be in her parent’s car. She would have been soaked had she caught the bus and had to walk from the bus stop. What a terrible day. Her relief when she saw her parents in the foyer of the police station was enormous, but the explanations as to why they were there had to wait. Her father was anxious to get her back home to Worthing, but before setting out on the twenty mile journey, they took her back to the home she and Henry shared first. While they waited in the sitting room, Annie packed her suitcase.
It was then that the full import of her predicament slowly dawned. If what they said was true, then she wasn’t married, and what was worse, through no fault of her own, she was an unmarried mother. She had been horribly deceived. In one fell swoop, she had lost her identity, her status in life and probably her lovely home as well. She had agreed to go back to her childhood home for a bit, but now she was wondering how could she possibly manage to come back to Horsham without the support of a husband? She would lose this house and all the furnishings she had made. Ever since that night when the police came, she had clung to a flimsy belief that maybe, just maybe, there had been a ghastly mistake, but faced with the evidence they’d put before her, Annie had a sinking feeling that it was all true.
Her mother had appeared in the doorway and offered her some help.