For Better For Worse

by Pam Weaver

  ‘You’d think they’d have a proper waiting room,’ her father complained. ‘How much longer have we got to hang around here?’

  Annie didn’t see Henry until she was in court about an hour later. As she stood in the witness box, he sat opposite the judge in the dock. He looked pale but he was smartly dressed in his best suit. Her heart lurched and as she looked at him he mouthed, ‘I love you.’ She felt slightly bewildered.

  The inside of the courtroom was even more imposing than the outside, although the wood panelling behind the judge’s seat and along the walls made it seem rather dark. The ornate vaulted ceiling gave the room a kind of conservatory feel. In the centre under the judge’s bench was a large table where a woman stenographer sat listening to and recording the proceedings. The jury sat in front of her. Annie scanned their faces. They were all men and, judging from their dress, from all walks of life. Three of them seemed very old and one man sported a huge walrus moustache.

  As she was sworn in, Annie recognised Mr West, but the man who spoke up for Henry was new to her. Somewhere along the line she had been told his name was Mr Collingwood, King’s Counsel for the defence. She was asked to give her name and then before Mr Hounsome, the KC for the prosecution, began his questioning, the judge interrupted.

  ‘If the jury are at times constrained to think that there might be an element of humour about bigamy, they should remember that there is another side to the case which is more important and has no humour whatsoever.’

  Annie drew her grey and black swagger coat around herself and the members of the jury stared at her with concern. Turning to her, the judge said in a less severe tone of voice, ‘Considering your condition, Mrs Royal, would you like to sit down?’

  Annie nodded, but the moment they brought a chair was the moment she felt her greatest humiliation. She still wore her wedding ring and yet even as she put her right hand on the Bible, it felt as if she was telling lies. Her coat slipped open and her advanced pregnancy was obvious to all. Every eye in the courtroom was upon her. She could see the gentlemen of the press at the back of the court scribbling in their notepads and, worst of all, her father who had already given his evidence about the missing brooch and his toxic relationship with Henry, glowering from the public gallery. A woman in a fur coat and broad-brimmed black hat was sitting to the right of her father. Annie had never seen her before but she stared down at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Could this be the other woman who had made a complaint against Henry?

  Annie answered the questions put to her with dignity and truthfully. Yes, she had married a little over a year ago. Her marriage certificate was passed around. No, when she signed the certificate, she had no idea her husband was still married.

  ‘He told me his first wife had died in the war,’ Annie explained.

  There was a murmur in the gallery and she glanced up to see her father shaking his head in disbelief. Her mother, sitting to the left of him, was dabbing her eyes.

  ‘You met when the defendant worked in your father’s jeweller’s shop?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You had a speedy courtship?’

  ‘Yes. We met and married within three months,’ Annie smiled.

  ‘And you set up home in Horsham where your husband then got a job working for another local jeweller,’ said Mr Hounsome, luring her on. His tone was gentle and concerned. Annie began to relax.

  ‘Yes. He was very well respected,’ she said proudly. ‘Henry likes things done just so, and they gave him a promotion almost straight away.’

  ‘In other words, you noticed that he brought home more money.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did your husband ever bring items from the shop back home?’

  ‘Yes. There wasn’t always time to finish what he was doing so he brought bits and pieces back home. He often worked late into the night.’

  Mr Hounsome showed her a watch and some jewellery. ‘Have you seen these before?’

  ‘Yes. That was one of the watches he was cleaning, and the necklace had a broken clasp. My husband repaired both of them one evening.’

  ‘He brought them home, but did he take them back the next day?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Annie chewed her lip thoughtfully. She had presumed the items were in his briefcase when he left in the morning.

  ‘Mrs Royal, how do you know for sure that your husband took the items back to the shop?’

  ‘I trusted him,’ Annie said stoutly. ‘I’m sure that’s what he would have done.’

  ‘But he didn’t, did he? The watch and the necklace are here in the courtroom.’

  Annie frowned.

  ‘They were found in your home. Hidden in your husband’s wardrobe.’

  She began to realise that Henry was charged not only with the theft of the brooch from her father’s shop but with other thefts too.

  ‘Someone had broken into the drawer of the dresser, Mrs Royal.’

  ‘That was me,’ she said quickly.

  ‘You broke into your own dresser?’

  ‘Yes. I was looking for money,’ said Annie. She glanced towards Henry and noted his look of disapproval. ‘I wanted to go and visit my husband in prison and I knew he kept money in the drawer.’

  ‘Why not use the key?’

  ‘My husband had the key.’

  ‘Were you looking for money, or perhaps you thought that with your husband in custody you could help yourself to a watch or a necklace or two?’

  ‘No!’ cried Annie desperately. In the public gallery her mother stood up to leave.

  ‘M’lord,’ Mr Collingwood protested. ‘Mrs Royal isn’t on trial here.’

  ‘It is my client’s contention that she drove him to steal, to satisfy her constant demands for more money.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Annie cried helplessly. ‘I never did that.’

  ‘Proceed with another line of questioning, Mr Hounsome,’ said the judge.

  Mr Hounsome pressed her on other matters; her negligible social life, the loss of friendships and her lack of contact with her parents; all, he suggested, was the result of Annie wanting to have Henry to herself. She protested heatedly that everything he’d said was so negative and blatantly untrue. Annie could hardly believe her ears and although she tried to keep ahead of what he was saying, the questions came so thick and fast it gave her no time to think. But one thing she understood all too clearly; he was implying that somehow Henry’s plight was her fault.

  When Mr Hounsome finally sat down, Annie had told the truth, but she had a sinking feeling that she had only made matters worse. In his defence, Mr Collingwood had her tell everyone what an excellent husband Henry was and how well he looked after her. She told them of her shock when meeting the first Mrs Royal and how she was convinced that there had been a ghastly mistake – but it was to no avail. She could tell from the stern faces of the jury that she had done little to help Henry and that she had probably sullied her own reputation to boot. She left the witness box with a heavy heart.

  Sarah gave her evidence clearly and precisely, but there was a distinct wobble in her voice. Annie listened from the benches and heard how Henry had married Sarah on March 12th, 1939 and that they had two children. Soon after their second child was born in 1947, Sarah told the court, he had left town very suddenly.

  ‘Have you been left destitute by the defendant?’ Mr Hounsome asked.

  Lifting her head defiantly, Sarah took in a deep breath. ‘I have no financial support from my husband if that’s what you mean,’ she said, ‘but my children are well cared for.’

  ‘Have you experienced any change in your circumstances since your husband left?’

  ‘Without his income I had to leave our marital home and take up lodgings.’

  Annie shifted her feet uncomfortably. She hated the idea that a mother and her children had been deserted in that way, but she was sure Henry would never be that callous. It wasn’t her fault, yet somehow sh
e felt responsible.

  ‘What contact did you have with your husband?’

  ‘None. Not until someone told me they’d seen him in Horsham and I went there to find him.’

  ‘You took your children along,’ Mr Hounsome went on. ‘Was he pleased to see them?’

  Shaking her head, Sarah dabbed her eyes. ‘He threw us out of the house.’

  Annie closed her eyes as in her head she could still hear Sarah’s little girl, bewildered and frightened, calling for her daddy.

  When Mr Collingwood, the KC for the defence, stood up, he persuaded Sarah to tell the members of the jury that up until the time he’d left, Henry had been a model husband, and reluctantly she had to agree.

  ‘Is it possible that your husband’s war experiences damaged him and led to this confusion?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Sarah stoutly. ‘Because of his age, he was called up late and was only in the army pay corps.’

  There was a ripple of laughter in the courtroom. Annie’s jaw dropped. That wasn’t true. Henry had told her he’d been a POW since Dunkirk. She leapt to her feet. ‘That’s a lie. My husband was a war hero.’

  The court was suddenly filled with murmurings.

  ‘Silence in court,’ said the judge.

  ‘But what she’s saying isn’t true,’ Annie insisted.

  The judge glowered and banged his gavel. ‘Any more outbursts like that, young lady, and I’ll have you removed.’

  Annie sat down dejectedly and the counsel resumed.

  ‘You say that your husband wasn’t called up until the war was well advanced,’ Mr Collingwood continued. ‘What was his line of work before that?’

  ‘He was in a jeweller’s shop in Littlehampton,’ said Sarah, ‘until he was called up in 1943.’

  ‘So if it wasn’t a bad experience during the war, what do you think contributed to the change in your relationship?’

  ‘The birth of our second daughter,’ said Sarah. ‘He was terribly disappointed that we didn’t have a son.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Mr Collingwood. ‘Didn’t Mr Royale tell you that he was upset and had to leave you because he had just found out that his first wife hadn’t properly divorced him? Isn’t that was why your own relationship broke down?’

  ‘When I married him, I had no idea he already had another wife,’ Sarah gasped. She glanced at Henry in the dock. ‘I always thought that I was his first wife!’

  Up in the public gallery, Malcolm Mitchell let out, ‘Good God!’ The woman in the fur coat sitting next to him let out a sob as she pushed a handkerchief to her mouth and hurriedly left the courtroom.

  When Sarah stepped down, they called Kaye Geraldine Royale into the witness box. Annie remembered her instantly as the woman who had watched Henry going to work on the day of his birthday before darting behind the gate. She was the same woman who had tried to speak to her in the park. Sarah recognised her too. She was the elegant woman waiting in the car the night that Henry was arrested.

  As soon as she was sworn in, Kaye told the court that she and Henry had been married in 1929. They had been very young, she eighteen and he twenty-five. They were unfortunately childless, but her husband had developed an obsession with having a son.

  ‘He wanted to leave his mark in the world and to have a son to carry on his name,’ she explained. ‘He said he planned to do something amazing in his life, so amazing that he would make the front pages of the newspaper when he died.’

  There was a muffled titter in the courtroom until the judge brought down his gavel. ‘Carry on, Mr Collingwood.’

  Kaye began to cough.

  ‘Are you all right, Mrs Royale?’ asked the judge.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kaye spluttered. ‘I’ve got a tickle in my throat.’

  The judge asked the usher to bring a glass of water and they waited as she settled down. With Mr Collingwood’s encouragement, Kaye went on to say that when Henry had left their marital home she had made no attempt to find him. She had been content to leave things as they were. After the war, her personal circumstances had changed and she had traced him to Horsham where she had eventually discovered that he had gone through not one but two forms of false marriage.

  ‘I planned to confront him, but when I saw that the girl he was living with was pregnant, I couldn’t do it,’ she said, sipping from the glass again. ‘So instead I went to the police and made a formal complaint.’

  After Kaye stepped down from the witness stand, it took a while to sum everything up and then the jury went out.

  As the courtroom emptied, Kaye sat on the bench in the corridor to have a cigarette. If someone had asked her to put her feelings into words, she would have struggled to do it. Part of her felt numb. The whole messy proceeding seemed so unreal – like one of her own radio plays, only this time she was one of the main characters and Henry the villain. She hadn’t seen him for ten years. He looked the same. Older of course, but he still had that suave, debonair look about him. He was still self-assured, although now that she was older and wiser herself it seemed more like cockiness. His face had a few more lines but the good-looking man she had loved after Bunny Warren died was still there. Even after all these years, her heart constricted when she saw him again, but the love was gone, most likely washed away with every tear she’d shed when he’d walked out on her. She’d made up her mind to make a new life for herself and so she had. Henry seemed like someone from a far country, occasionally in her thoughts but never close by. She’d fallen in love again eventually, but because it had taken so long to find Henry or even to discover if he’d survived the war, she hadn’t been sure whether she was a widow or needed a divorce. In the meantime, her new love moved on and she lost her chance of happiness. That made her angry.

  The usher called them back in and, quickly repairing her lipstick, Kaye went back into the courtroom. The sight of Annie and Sarah sitting dejectedly on the benches aroused another emotion. Poor kids. She wasn’t the only one whose life had been ruined. How could Henry do this?

  The jury returned and the court was silent as the verdict was given. Henry Royal was found not guilty on the charge of theft but guilty of bigamy. He was given six months.

  *

  Malcolm Mitchell said nothing as he took his wife and daughter to the Whispering Gallery tea rooms nearby. He had decided that they should have some sort of refreshment before beginning the journey back to Worthing and ordered tea and cake. Annie knew she would find it hard to swallow anything but she didn’t argue. Her mother seemed to be in a daze, simply following her father and keeping her eyes downcast. Annie felt confused. She had wanted to believe that everything those women said in the witness box was all lies, but Henry hadn’t told her the whole truth either. Everything was so jumbled up now. Henry was a lot older than she’d thought. He’d told her he was thirty-six but it turned out that he was forty-four, practically an old man. That whirlwind courtship which had been so romantic at the time seemed tawdry and cheap now. Gradually, lots of other things began to fall into place. She understood at last why he hadn’t wanted her parents to come to the wedding and perhaps he had even engineered everything to make sure they never got their invitation. He didn’t want her writing letters either. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t too keen that she should make new friends either. It hadn’t occurred to her until now how isolated she had become. She looked down at her bump. With a father like that, what hope did her baby have? But then she remembered how he’d told her he loved her as she’d gone into the witness box and how he’d shouted out, ‘Look after my son, Annie. I’m coming back,’ as they’d taken him down. He’d looked so broken, yet so sincere, and now she didn’t know what to think.

  Looking up, Annie noticed there was a small commotion in the street outside. With a shock, she realised that Sarah Royal had stumbled on the pavement and fallen. As soon as she saw who it was, Annie leapt to her feet.

  ‘Sit down,’ her father growled.

  Several people ran to help, including the first Mrs Royale
. When they hauled Sarah to her feet and dusted her down, she looked pale and disoriented. The door of the café was pushed roughly open and the group of people staggered inside, helping Sarah to a table.

  ‘Look away,’ her father said again. ‘Take no notice.’

  Annie turned her head but she could still see what was happening on the other side of the room by looking at the reflection on the windowpane. She watched everybody settle Sarah into a chair as they fussed over her grazed knee, and all at once Annie understood why the café had such a strange name. She could hear everything being said at the other table as if they were sitting right next to her. It really was just like a whispering gallery.

  ‘Could you bring us high tea please?’ Kaye asked the waitress. ‘Mrs Royal hasn’t eaten all day and is feeling rather faint.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m all right, really.’

  ‘I insist,’ said Kaye. ‘This has been a ghastly day for all of us, and apart from the fact that you must be starving, I think you may have a touch of shock.’

  Annie glanced back and saw Sarah looking at her through tear-filled eyes as she reached for a handkerchief. Malcolm thumped his daughter’s arm to remind her not to look.

  The tea came and Kaye poured her a cup, loading in two spoons of sugar before passing it to Sarah. ‘How will you get home?’ she asked.

  ‘I came on the train. I have a return ticket.’

  The waitress brought a plate of sandwiches and a cake stand. ‘I am so sorry about all this,’ Kaye said as she left. ‘If there had been another way …’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ said Sarah. ‘I had no idea he was still married to you. In fact, until I telephoned the police, I didn’t know you even existed.’ She sighed. ‘I feel like my whole identity has been stripped away. I don’t know who I am anymore.’