For Better For Worse

by Pam Weaver

The Coach Party was a comedy, and a very funny one at that. A group of holidaymakers had been forced to spend the night in a haunted hotel after their coach had broken down. There was a lot of slamming of doors and people in various states of undress, although there was nothing indecent. Sarah was fascinated by the timing. They had to be so careful to be in the right place to deliver a line or exit before someone else came on stage. If a line came too quickly, the joke was lost, but if the timing was right, it was hilarious.

  When 8.15 p.m. came, Lottie opened the hatch and served the piping hot teas. Sarah stayed in the background as much as possible. After all, it was to be Lottie’s job. The actors were a bit over the top in their praise of Lottie, and Sarah had a shrewd idea that they had either waited a long time for someone to fill the post or that Kaye had had a word with them. Whatever the reason, Lottie loved it.

  ‘About time, Bear,’ a flamboyant actor named Sebastian called out. ‘You must have smelled the tea.’

  Sarah’s heart skipped a beat as Bear Truman came into the room. He was not as big as she remembered, but he still had a commanding presence. ‘Sorry folks,’ he said. ‘I had to deal with something that couldn’t wait.’

  ‘What could be more important than our new play?’ said Sebastian.

  ‘What indeed,’ said Bear, shaking his hand vigorously. He handed him a sort of mousetrap contraption and a box. ‘Here are your props.’

  Sebastian fiddled with the mousetrap until it made a loud snapping noise. It looked as if his hand must have been caught in it, but instead of crying out in pain, he laughed and said, ‘That’s terrific, Bear. Thank you.’

  ‘Careful with the other one,’ Bear cautioned as he handed him the box.

  Sebastian put his hand inside and when he drew it out, it was covered in fake blood. ‘Perfect,’ he cried, slapping Bear on the back.

  When Bear came to the hatch, he was surprised to see Lottie. ‘Hello, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Lottie is our tea lady,’ said Sebastian, ‘so you’d better be nice to her.’ He hurried away and Bear took the cup and saucer Lottie offered him.

  ‘Ah,’ said Bear. ‘That hits the spot. You’re looking very nice tonight, Lottie. What have you done to your hair?’

  ‘Sarah did it for me,’ said Lottie. She stepped back so that he could see Sarah at the sink.

  ‘Is there no end to Sarah’s talents,’ he teased. Sarah kept her back to him. She felt ridiculously self-conscious and she could feel her face heating up. She’d forgotten, or maybe she’d never noticed before, how good-looking and attractive he was. ‘Nothing to say, Sarah?’

  In another part of the room, Sebastian clapped his hands. ‘Right everybody, back to work.’

  Wiping her hands on the tea towel, Sarah turned with a smile. ‘Are you in this play?’

  ‘No, I just help out with the scenery,’ he said.

  Sebastian pushed in front of him. ‘Excuse me folks, sorry, it’s time to crack on,’ he said shutting the hatch. Then Sarah heard his muffled voice calling, ‘Right, stage places everybody, chop, chop.’

  All at once, Bear had hopped into the kitchen and was beside her, putting more teacups into the water. He grabbed a tea towel to help with the drying up and made small talk. Although Sarah replied as normally as possible, he still had her knocking the milk over and dropping teaspoons.

  When they were all done by quarter past nine, Bear offered to walk them home. Sarah said, ‘Oh we’ll be fine, thanks,’ but at the same time Lottie said, ‘Thank you, that would be very nice.’

  Bear beamed. It was a lot colder now. Sarah and Lottie linked arms again. Bear walked on the edge of the pavement next to Lottie but Sarah was ridiculously aware of his presence.

  ‘See you next week,’ he said cheerily as they walked into the gate.

  * * *

  Over the next few weeks, Sarah looked forward to Thursday evenings in the Labour Hall, although the weather took a turn for the worse in March when there was some late snow. As the play rehearsals advanced, Bear was more active. Dressed all in black, he moved the scenery quickly and silently between scenes. For such a big man, Sarah was amazed at his agility. The times she loved most were when he walked them home. In the weeks since he’d been doing it, she’d discovered that he’d been brought up in Canada. His mother was English and had gone out there as a governess to some British Embassy children. His father was a Canadian and when he died, she had returned to her roots, bringing her young son with her.

  ‘The boys at school never teased me about my accent,’ he joked. ‘Even at ten years old, I was head and shoulders above all of them.’

  Sarah laughed, wishing with all her heart she had known him back then as well.

  The beginning of the week brought the snow. It was late for the time of year. At first it looked pretty, but once it had partially thawed and then snowed again, the roads were treacherous.

  ‘Don’t you miss all that lovely sunshine?’ Lottie asked one evening as they crunched home in the icy weather.

  ‘Sometimes,’ smiled Bear and, looking directly at Sarah, added, ‘but some things over here make up for it and they have a lot of snow in Canada.’

  ‘Are you married?’ Lottie asked bluntly.

  ‘Lottie …’ Sarah scolded in an embarrassed whisper.

  Bear roared with laughter. ‘No, I’m not married, Lottie.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Perhaps I never met the right girl,’ said Bear.

  Sarah knew he was still looking at her, so she pushed her head further down into her thick scarf. Thank goodness the darkness hid her crimson face. As they reached the gate, Lottie walked on, but Bear tugged at Sarah’s arm. ‘You said you were only coming with Lottie for a few weeks.’

  ‘Next week is my last one,’ said Sarah, glancing up at Mrs Goodall’s window in time to see the curtain drop. ‘I only agreed to do it for six weeks, just to get Lottie started.’

  ‘The company are meeting on Highdown on Sunday,’ he smiled. ‘Would you and the children like to come up with us for a bit of fun in the snow?’

  Sarah smiled shyly. ‘The girls would love that. If you think the snow will last that long.’

  Lottie turned back enthusiastically. ‘Can I come too?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Bear said quickly. ‘We can get the bus to Goring and walk from there. I’ve got a toboggan, so the children won’t have to do too much walking.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ said Sarah, her heart already racing.

  ‘Then I’ll see you next Sunday,’ he said, saluting her with his gloved hand. ‘Ten thirty at the bus station.’

  It took her ages to get to sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, Bear’s smiling face swam before her.

  *

  Kaye’s next-door neighbour, Mrs Goodall, lay in her bed looking up at the ceiling. She wasn’t a person of nervous disposition but all these comings and goings next door were making her so. She’d seen yet another person down there tonight. He hadn’t stayed long, but he’d seen her watching him as he skulked about in the shrubbery. He’d made a rude sign as he’d gone past her window. He wasn’t the only one because there was that other shifty-looking man she’d seen creeping about the garden the other day. She’d seen him a day or so later leaning against the wall of the twitten when she’d gone to post a letter. He tried to pretend he was reading a newspaper, but she didn’t like the look of him, and she certainly didn’t like the idea of his hanging about. She tut-tutted to herself. Ever since those girls had arrived next door, they had lowered the tone of the place.

  *

  Sunday dawned crisp and cold. The snow was still around, although they hadn’t had any more since Friday. The air was clear and bright. Sarah wrapped the children up warmly and they couldn’t wait to get started.

  Bear rang the doorbell at ten, looking very pleased with himself. ‘I’ve got a car,’ he beamed. ‘It’s a bit of an old banger, but it’ll get us up the hill in one go.’

  He stepped aside and they all
admired the 1930s Morris Ten which stood on the driveway. With Lottie and the children in the back seat, they set off in high spirits.

  The theatre group was already on the hill having an impromptu snowball fight when they arrived. Sebastian was getting the worst of it. No one could resist the chance to get some good-natured revenge for all the times he’d shouted at them in rehearsals.

  They walked to the top of the hill and joined the other revellers with sledges. Bear had pulled Jenny up the hill on his toboggan, but as he turned it round, he sat behind her with his feet either side of her to go down the hill. Sarah watched as Jenny squealed with delight as they raced away. A little while later, Bear did the same with Lottie, the older woman clearly having the time of her life. Of course, it wasn’t long before Lu-Lu was begging for a turn. She seemed to have grown up all of a sudden and had moved from baby to toddler in just a few short months. After trudging up the hill a couple more times with Jenny, Bear suggested that Sarah sit on the toboggan with him, and hold Lu-Lu in front of her. With Bear and his strong arms wrapped around her as he steered the toboggan downhill, Sarah could hardly breathe for the closeness of him. She loved it. The cold winter air rushing by her cheeks was exhilarating, but Lu-Lu wasn’t quite so sure about the ride and refused to get back on again once she’d reached the bottom of the hill. Bear seemed disappointed.

  ‘I’ll look after the girls if you both want to go,’ Lottie offered as they reached the top.

  ‘Race you to the bottom,’ shouted Sebastian.

  ‘Come on Sarah,’ cried Bear, and before she knew where she was, they were back on the toboggan, flying down the hill. They beat Sebastian and his co-rider by a fag paper and rolled off the sledge onto the snow, laughing. After another trudge back up the hill, someone produced a flask or two of hot tea and they stood around warming their gloved hands on the cups. By four, she, Lottie, Bear and the children were all arriving back at Copper Beeches. It was all over far too quickly, but Sarah had never enjoyed a day so much.

  ‘Thank you for a wonderful day,’ she said as he helped her with the children.

  ‘Sarah, you told me once that you were spoken for,’ he said just as she was about to close the door. ‘Was that true?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Sarah. She smiled up at him, keenly aware that she was blushing like some silly schoolgirl.

  ‘I should like to ask you out, but a man in the police force has to ask permission to court a girl first.’

  Sarah was surprised. ‘Really?’

  ‘They would want to check your background,’ he went on. ‘It can sometimes take a while. Would it be worth my while asking to court you?’

  ‘You know my past,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I know none of this was your fault,’ he said.

  ‘It won’t harm your career in any way … going out with the wife of a bigamist?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I’d like that,’ she said shyly, and he smiled. But as she closed the door, she worried that it might not be as simple as that.

  *

  A small gaggle of people gathered in untidy groups outside the prison gates. It was early on a cold spring morning, the first week in April, exactly six months since Henry Royale began his sentence. Nobody spoke or even acknowledged one another. Embarrassed to be in such a place, each person deliberately ignored the other people waiting in the road by looking in the opposite direction. The door opened bang on eight and the first of the newly released prisoners walked out onto the street. There were five in all and Henry was the last to leave the prison. As the door closed behind him, he stood on the pavement savouring the moment, and as the bolts shot back into place behind him he looked up at the sky. He was free. It was over. What was going to happen next he didn’t know, but one thing was for sure, he would never allow himself to set foot in a godawful place like that again. Of the other four prisoners, two were hugging their wife or girlfriend. One lifted a wriggling child with a mass of blonde curls in the air and kissed her on the cheek before leaning down to kiss the woman beside him. The fourth had no one waiting. He turned abruptly and with his hands thrust deeply into his pockets and his bundle tucked under his arm, he hurried away without looking back.

  Across the road, a sleek black four-door chauffeur-driven Bentley Saloon waited, its engine purring. Henry smiled as the rear door slowly opened and, saying a polite, ‘Good morning, Constable,’ to a passing bobby on the beat, he walked across the cobbles and grasped the door handle. The chauffeur hadn’t moved and Henry could sense that he was doing his best to appear invisible.

  ‘Morning Matthews,’ Henry said cheerfully.

  He saw the man’s back stiffen. Without turning to look, Matthews touched the peak of his cap. ‘Good morning, sir.’

  Henry bent his head and looked at the woman on the back seat of the car. ‘How nice of you to meet me.’ She offered him her gloved hand. Henry grasped her fingers and allowed himself to be pulled inside the car. As he closed the door behind him, he was surrounded by the smell of her heady perfume. The car moved off.

  ‘Ada,’ he sighed. ‘My guilty little secret.’ Smiling, he ran his finger down the side of her wrinkled face, then tilting her head back with his forefinger, he pressed his mouth over her lips.

  ‘Oh Henry,’ she sighed as he released her. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

  Twenty-Three

  ‘Mrs Royale?’

  Kaye looked up as the nurse called her name. She followed her into the X-ray department where she slipped the hospital dressing gown from her shoulders and stood in front of the machine. Once positioned, the girl, who was wearing a heavy apron, went behind a screen and asked Kaye to take a deep breath and hold it. It was difficult because immediately she felt the need to cough, but eventually the girl was satisfied.

  ‘When will I get the results?’

  ‘In about a week,’ said the girl. ‘I believe you have an appointment to see Mr Young in Harley Street? Your results will be on his desk when you see him.’

  Kaye nodded and went back to the cubicle. She blanked everything out except getting dressed. She’d only come because Doctor Bradley had insisted and because he had actually made the appointment for her. Her breathing was a lot easier now that spring was in the air and with a decent summer, or perhaps a short holiday in the sun, she’d be back to normal in no time. One thing was for sure. She had no time to be ill. Life was too full, too exciting. Fully dressed, Kaye hurried out into the street and hailed a taxi. Once inside, she lit up and relaxed.

  Henry was coming out today. She had half wondered if he would want to meet her, but Dobbin had promised that he wouldn’t divulge her address. She didn’t suppose that would stop him from finding her though. Henry was tenacious when it came to getting what he wanted.

  The taxi dropped her right outside the door of Broadcasting House at the junction of Oxford Street and Regents Park. Kaye looked up at the imposing building made of Portland stone, and with only a careless glance at Eric Gill’s massive statue of Shakespeare’s Prospero and Ariel above the door, she went inside. Percy Granger, the producer, who met her in the foyer, looked younger than ever, and just as he had been at the Durbridges’ party, he was very complimentary about her work. The year before, the BBC had launched what was proving to be a very successful programme called Mrs Dale’s Diary and as Percy explained, he was eager to capitalise on the idea by producing another long-running series, perhaps with a little more grit.

  Once they reached his office, Percy introduced her to Alistair Levin, a BBC lawyer. Twenty minutes later, Kaye walked out of his office with the contract of her dreams. Bursting with excitement, she hurried, already late, for her appointment with Dobbin.

  ‘I can tell you’ve had a wonderful morning,’ he said as he kissed her cheeks.

  ‘I have,’ she smiled. ‘Life is wonderful and I’m on top of the world.’

  ‘I’m so glad, my dear,’ he smiled. ‘No one deserves it more than you.’

  They were sitting in his office,
a rather cluttered and drab little room off the Edgware Road. The noise from the traffic outside was reduced to a dull rumble as they closed the door.

  ‘Have you drawn up the papers?’ she asked.

  ‘All I need is your signature, my dear.’ He called his secretary and another woman working in the office to come in while Kaye signed the bottom line and then the two women signed below her signature as witnesses.

  When it was done, Kaye flopped into the wide chesterfield chair and sipped the gin and tonic Dobbin handed to her. Yes, everything was looking good. She had agreed to send Percy some ideas involving a fishing family living on the South coast of England, but at the same time, she would work on another mystery story. So long as Sarah stayed to look after Lottie and she knew her aunt was happy, everything would work out fine. She would up Sarah’s wages, and should she ever leave Copper Beeches, Kaye had just put everything in place to guarantee Lottie’s future, ensuring that she would be well looked after. Henry might huff and puff to get her money, but thanks to what she and Dobbin had just done, it would only be over her dead body.

  *

  Detective Constable Harris threw the lean folder across Detective Inspector Bear Truman’s desk. ‘He’s out. Got released first thing this morning.’

  Bear looked up. ‘Who met him? One of the wives?’

  Harris shook his head. ‘Better than that,’ he smiled. ‘He went off in a chauffeur-driven Bentley. The copper couldn’t see the back-seat passenger but he was sure it was a woman.’

  ‘Registration number?’

  ‘LLD 732.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ smiled Bear.

  ‘What exactly is he up to?’ asked Harris. ‘You’ve been digging around ever since he got locked up. I get the feeling you think he’s up to no good in a big way.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Bear. ‘But several things didn’t add up when we looked at the bigamy case.’

  DC Harris gave him a quizzical look. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like how come an ordinary family man could afford such expensive suits for one thing?’ said Bear. ‘He didn’t have a job when we nicked him and yet his little wife thought he did because the money was still coming in. And if he wasn’t working, what was he doing all day?’ He rubbed his nose vigorously. ‘My nose keeps itching. I’m sure the man is a villain.’