For Better For Worse

by Pam Weaver

  Annie’s mother looked up. ‘That’s just how I feel,’ Annie told her and her mother reached for her hand on the table to give it a squeeze.

  ‘That’s quite enough of all that mumbo-jumbo,’ her father hissed.

  ‘You said in court you’re living in lodgings in Worthing?’ Kaye was saying to Sarah.

  Sarah nodded.

  ‘I live in Worthing too.’

  Sarah regarded Kaye for a few seconds. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Kaye, lighting up a du Maurier. ‘That didn’t come out well. It has to be a coincidence, but I live at Copper Beeches in Church Walk. That’s East Worthing. You must come and visit me sometime.’

  ‘What?’ Sarah repeated.

  ‘In fact,’ said Kaye, ‘why don’t I take you home? My car is just outside.’ The kindly tone of her voice prompted Annie to turn around and look at them directly.

  ‘Annie,’ her father hissed angrily. He stood up, scraping his chair noisily on the bare boards. ‘Come on, we’re going.’

  When the three wives of Henry Royale looked at each other, it was as if the rest of the world faded into the distance. Sarah simply stared, while Kaye took a long drag on her cigarette as Annie blinked back at them both.

  ‘Come along,’ said her father, pulling at Annie’s arm painfully and hauling her to her feet.

  The waitress appeared with the bill. ‘Please pay at the counter, sir.’

  ‘Wait outside with your mother,’ Malcolm Mitchell growled as he reluctantly let go of his daughter’s arm and reached for his wallet. Annie gathered her things, her eyes still on Kaye and Sarah.

  The three of them stared at each other as if in the frozen frame of a film until Annie’s father, having paid the bill, dragged her towards the open café door.

  ‘Good luck, darling,’ Kaye called as Annie’s father propelled her onto the street.

  *

  Bear had asked to see his Super.

  ‘Good result, Truman,’ said the Superintendent. He was taking his outer garments off and hanging them up. Outside, it was raining hard. ‘Six months should cool his ardour a bit. Pity we couldn’t have got him sent down for a bit longer. The man’s a bloody menace.’

  ‘Quite right, sir,’ said Bear, ‘and for that reason I should like to carry on doing a bit of digging.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ said the Superintendent, flopping down into his chair and wiping his wet face with his handkerchief.

  Bear looked ahead, deliberately not meeting the Inspector’s eye. ‘My nose is itching.’

  His superior grinned. ‘I’ve heard about that nose of yours, Truman. All right, come and tell me when you’ve got something.’

  Nine

  Had the circumstances been different, Sarah would have enjoyed the drive back to Worthing with Kaye. Although she was far above her socially (she could tell that just by looking at her clothes), Kaye was ever so nice. She didn’t put on airs or graces and she didn’t talk down to Sarah either. She treated her as an equal. She was, Sarah guessed, about ten years older than herself, handsome rather than pretty, but very elegant. She was wearing a grey two-piece suit with a pink blouse, a plum-coloured hat and matching gloves, and she carried a black bag. Her court shoes were plain, but a glance at her legs convinced Sarah that she was wearing silk stockings. Her nails were well manicured and she wore some of that new Revlon pink nail varnish. Her hair under her hat was neatly coiffured and as she moved, Sarah caught the whiff of an expensive perfume.

  On the journey, they talked as friends. ‘So,’ Kaye asked. ‘What do you think about the new plans to revitalise Worthing?’

  Sarah had to confess she hadn’t really thought about it. ‘I did catch a glimpse of the front page of the Herald in the newspaper shop,’ she told Kaye, ‘but I never buy papers.’ It felt too personal to admit that she had little time for reading and that she didn’t buy newspapers because money was tight. The picture on the front of the paper had showed some of the proposed, sweeping changes, with whole streets obliterated and wide boulevards taking their place. There was talk in the town of another bridge over the railway, but people couldn’t see where the money was coming from to pay for all this. Even though the Allies had won the war, the country was on its knees and the most pressing need was housing.

  ‘The one thing that worries me,’ said Kaye, ‘is that they’ll sweep away everything that’s old. I notice that the council is trying to get that lovely old Regency house on the seafront pulled down.’

  ‘Are they?’ said Sarah. There was a short pause and Sarah guessed that Kaye knew she wasn’t really interested. Who cared about run-down old buildings when people needed somewhere to live?

  ‘What do you do?’ Kaye asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Most of my time is taken up with providing for my girls,’ she said.

  ‘Sadly I never had children,’ said Kaye. ‘How old are they?’

  ‘Jenny is six and Lu-Lu is not yet two.’

  ‘Lu-Lu?’

  ‘It was what Jenny called her when she was born,’ Sarah smiled fondly. ‘Her name is Louise, but she couldn’t manage to say that and it kind of stuck. They’re very fond of each other.’

  ‘They sound lovely,’ said Kaye. She wriggled in her seat. ‘Excuse me. My girdle is pinching.’ Sarah was sympathetic. She’d had her own experience of pinching and badly fitted girdles. ‘Why do we women put ourselves through all this?’ said Kaye with a sigh.

  ‘Why indeed,’ Sarah smiled.

  ‘How long were you with Henry?’

  Sarah looked away. It was inevitable that the subject would come up, but she was embarrassed. ‘We got together in 1938,’ she said, ‘but I would never have gone with him if I had known he was married.’

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t have,’ said Kaye. ‘We both know what a skilful liar Henry is.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘And how difficult to live with.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Kaye, gripping the steering wheel more firmly. ‘So the bastard left you to bring up your girls on your own?’

  At first Sarah was a little shocked to hear Henry being called a bastard. It was strong language from an educated woman like Kaye. ‘It’s hard,’ she acknowledged, ‘but we manage and I wouldn’t be without them for all the world.’

  A bus pulled out onto the road, but Kaye didn’t slow down. Sarah closed her eyes as she accelerated and overtook it. Pulling in front of the bus, Kaye ignored the driver’s honking horn and sped on. ‘What work do you do?’

  ‘All sorts,’ said Sarah, trying to sound casual, despite the hair-raising ride. ‘Mostly I clean but I also sew baby clothes. Anything which will give me a bob or two.’ She paused. ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m a writer,’ Kaye went on. ‘After Henry left, I hated being on my own, but in my line of work you get used to being solitary.’

  ‘You’ve no relatives?’

  ‘No, my mother was killed in the Norton Fitzwarren rail crash.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I remember that,’ Sarah remarked. ‘The beginning of the war, wasn’t it?’

  ‘November 4th, 1940,’ said Kaye bitterly. ‘She’d been visiting an old school friend in Taunton. The wartime restrictions meant it was so dark the driver misread a signal and the train was derailed. Twenty-seven people died, including my mother.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Sarah.

  ‘It was pretty awful,’ Kaye agreed, ‘and I thought I was completely alone, but just recently I’ve discovered that I have a maiden aunt living near Chichester.’

  ‘Strange how we lose touch,’ Sarah observed.

  ‘But you and I mustn’t,’ said Kaye. ‘I know the circumstances are a little odd but it would be nice to keep in touch, don’t you think?’

  Sarah smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘It would certainly be one in the eye for Henry,’ said Kaye, and they both laughed. ‘That girl Henry was living with looked so young, didn’t she? I felt a bit sorry for her.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘And that fath
er of hers looked like a real tartar.’

  *

  Henry was livid. This should never have happened. How could he have miscalculated so badly? He knew Kaye was an intelligent woman, but he never dreamed she would follow him to the ends of the earth. She must have discovered where Sarah and the girls were living, but how on earth had she traced him to Horsham? He’d been so bloody careful. He should have moved right away. Perhaps if he’d gone to Leeds or Wales or somewhere like that it would have made it harder for her to come back into his life. He’d tried to blame Sarah and Kaye for the mess he was in but the jury didn’t buy his story. The only bit of satisfaction he had was seeing that pompous ass Mitchell in the gallery. He almost wished he’d committed murder just for the satisfaction of seeing the look of affronted anger on his face.

  When the judge sent him down they’d made him wait in the police cells, then he’d been transferred to Winchester. Why on earth they didn’t leave him in Lewes he couldn’t begin to understand. They’d strip-searched him when he’d arrived and he’d been told to submit to a doctor’s examination. Full of indignation, he’d resisted until one of the prison officers had given him a clout on the side of his head and he’d caved in. Once he’d been kitted out with his prison garb, they’d marched him to his cell. It was little more than a box room, thirteen feet broad by seven deep, and nine feet high, with a rounded ceiling. The walls were painted mustard yellow, if you could call it that, with a dark green band about four feet from the floor. The floor was of shiny blackened bricks. On the left-hand side was a bucket toilet with a wooden seat and a packet of Izal toilet paper on the floor beside it. The barred window was close to the ceiling and in the middle of the end wall. The panes of glass were opaque with the exception of two which had been nailed up with board. Opposite the window was the narrow door through which he had come. He shivered. It was bloody cold.

  There was a wooden bed with a mattress and bedding rolled up at one end. At a glance he could see that he had two grey blankets and one sheet. There was only one shelf, a quarter wedge of wood fixed to a corner on which he found a Bible. All his personal belongings had been left in his suitcase and locked away. The prison service had supplied him with a black hairbrush, a toothbrush, a tin mug and a bit of vile smelling soap. As soon as Henry walked in, the officer banged the door closed behind him and then looked at him through the spyhole before letting the cover fall. Henry froze as the sound of the key turning in the lock echoed through the cell and the full horror of his predicament burst into his mind. This was to be his home for the next six months.

  *

  ‘Shall I take you to fetch your children?’ Kaye asked. They were on the outskirts of the town with less than a mile to go until they arrived at Sarah’s house.

  Sarah hesitated. Jenny and Lu-Lu had never been in a car before. They would love it, but when she got to Vera’s she knew they wouldn’t be ready. Kaye would have to wait for them. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘It’s no trouble and it’ll be a lot quicker for you,’ said Kaye.

  ‘That would be very kind of you.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  When they pulled up outside her sister’s house, Kaye tooted the horn and a face appeared at the window. Vera’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

  ‘Whose car is that?’ she said, opening the door. The house smelled vaguely of cabbage and there were boxes in the hallway. Sarah had forgotten that Vera and Bill were moving to Lancing at the end of the week.

  ‘One of Henry’s wives,’ she said mischievously.

  ‘One of … Good God, how many has he got?’

  ‘Mummy, Mummy …’ Sarah’s children threw themselves into her arms and she kissed them fondly. ‘Have you been good?’

  Having Kaye waiting for them in the car brought an element of haste. Sarah was grateful for that. It meant Vera had little time to do much probing, although when she was sure that Jenny wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation, she told Vera that Henry had been sent to prison. ‘Please let’s keep this to ourselves,’ Sarah asked. ‘I don’t want Jenny upset.’

  ‘How long for?’ Vera wanted to know.

  ‘Six months.’

  Vera tut-tutted disapprovingly. ‘A criminal. This is a first in the family. I don’t know what Bill is going to say about it.’

  Sarah held her tongue. She longed to remind Vera that she was the victim here and it wasn’t her fault. Besides, who cared what bloody Bill thought about it? She gathered her children and their things and hurried them to Kaye’s car. As they clambered in, Kaye pinched the end of her cigarette and flicked the stub into the road.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ Carole grumbled. ‘I want to have a ride in the car too.’

  ‘Thanks Vera,’ said Sarah as she put Jenny in the back seat and walked to the passenger door with Lu-Lu in her arms. ‘I’ll settle up with you later.’

  Jenny sat as good as gold, her bright eyes dancing with excitement. Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw her stroking the leather seats when she wasn’t gazing wonderingly out of the window. Kaye asked her questions about school and Jenny answered politely.

  ‘My goldfish died,’ Jenny said eventually.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Kaye.

  ‘We buried him in the garden. You can see him if you like.’

  ‘I think Mrs Royale has to get home, darling,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Call me Auntie Kaye, please.’

  ‘I’m hungry, Mummy,’

  ‘Didn’t you have tea with your auntie?’ Kaye asked.

  ‘Auntie Vera said Mummy was coming soon,’ said Jenny. ‘She said Mummy would give us tea.’

  Sarah bristled with anger. The agreement had been that Vera would feed them when she and her family had their tea. She’d even given her a few coupons to help with the food.

  She hated it when Kaye saw where she lived. Embarrassed and drained by the day, she thanked her profusely and bundled the children out of the car. To add to her fluster, she caught sight of one of her neighbours peeping out from behind the net curtain. A car in the street was unusual enough, but when it had a woman driver at the wheel, it was an object of curiosity. Kaye climbed out to help her.

  ‘No, no. Don’t get out,’ Sarah protested at the same time dropping a glove and Jenny’s school plimsolls. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  ‘It won’t take a minute to help you,’ Kaye insisted, ‘and besides, I have to see the goldfish grave, don’t I?’

  There was an envelope pinned on the doorframe. As she snatched it from its pin Sarah supposed it was another order from Mr Lovett. Today was his usual day to call into Mrs Angel’s and he had promised to try and secure some more orders for her. Kaye had Lu-Lu in her arms as they walked into the house and Jenny was anxious to show her where Goldie was buried.

  ‘We said prayers and everything,’ Jenny was telling her proudly.

  ‘I’m glad you did everything properly,’ said Kaye, winking at Sarah.

  Now that she was actually in the house, Sarah felt obliged to say, ‘Would you like a cup of tea before you go?’

  ‘Love one,’ said Kaye.

  She put the kettle on while Kaye and the children went out into the small yard. As she waited for the water to boil, Sarah impatiently tore open the envelope. A second later, her whole world had crashed around her like a pack of cards. The headed notepaper said it all. Notice of Eviction. She slumped into the chair and pulled off her beret. No, no, after all that had happened today, this really was the last straw. She struggled to keep her composure, but she knew she couldn’t do it anymore. After working all the hours God gave, after doing everything she could to keep the roof over their heads, now this had to happen. She felt a mixture of rage and pity for herself. Someone up there must have it in for her. What had she done to deserve all this? The sound of laughter filtered through the open back door, but Sarah could only put her head in her hands and burst into tears.

  Ten

  A couple of days later, Kaye se
t out for Chichester to meet her maiden aunt. This had been such a strange time. She had spent a lot of time reflecting on the past, something she’d deliberately avoided when Henry walked out on her all those years ago. He had never been easy to live with, although given her condition when he had proposed to her, she had been glad to accept his offer of marriage. She’d been writing for women’s magazines when she’d met him, but Henry was old-fashioned. He said he didn’t want his wife to work. ‘People will think I can’t support you,’ he said sulkily. So her passion for words had been shelved. Henry had been pernickety and had spent a fortune (money they didn’t have) on his suits. He became angry if she questioned him, although he’d never been physically violent. When they’d first got married, she’d stood up to him, but over the almost ten years they were together, she’d found it easier to avoid conflict. When he finally left and she’d had to start all over again, she realised that her confidence was completely shot through. She had no friends either. Still, nothing was wasted. She’d drawn on her own experiences when writing her plays. Perhaps, she reflected as the spire of Chichester cathedral came into view, her own personal experiences might even help her aunt.

  She had been excited to discover that Aunt Charlotte was so close, but what she hadn’t told Sarah was that her aunt was in a mental institution. Just before the trial, Kaye had received a letter from the authorities telling her that ‘although Charlotte wasn’t cured, she was a great deal better, and in view of the present financial conditions, whenever possible, long-term patients are being re-homed with their families.’

  It had come as a shock to discover that she even had a relative. Her mother, who had died six years ago, had never mentioned a sister. As she drove the twenty miles to Chichester, she wondered what had happened to Aunt Charlotte and why she had been put away and apparently forgotten.

  She found herself driving down a winding driveway overhung with thick rhododendron trees, and when she came upon the Home, it was a rather forbidding place. Put together in grey stone, the Victorian building was in a poor state of repair. The gutters were sprouting grass and the paintwork was peeling. Kaye rang the old-fashioned pull bell and eventually a junior member of staff came to the huge paint-starved front door. She seemed very nervous and as she put a basket of washing onto the hall table, Kaye couldn’t help noticing her red, chapped hands. Kaye was asked to wait in the dark wood-panelled entrance hall. In the distance, she could hear voices, some in apparent distress. Eventually a man in a white coat appeared, his hand extended, ‘Mrs Royale. I’m Doctor Smith. How good to see you.’