For Better For Worse

by Pam Weaver

  ‘I’ve had such a wonderful day, darling,’ Ada sighed when they reached her flat in Mayfair.

  ‘So have I,’ said Henry.

  There were three letters waiting for him. He’d had to inform the authorities where he would be and so they had forwarded them. He was still getting letters from Annie, but quite frankly she bored him so he hadn’t bothered to read any of them for ages. He had had obviously left one behind in his cell and the prison authorities had readdressed it. While Ada went upstairs to get ready for bed, Henry helped himself to a malt whisky and ripped the first letter open. It was from Dobbin, Kaye’s solicitor.

  My client, Mrs Kaye Royale, was somewhat disappointed that you thought it necessary to rip up the documents sent from this office. She had instructed me to inform you that she will be suing you for divorce on the grounds of serial adultery. You will be hearing from us in due course.

  In the meantime, I must insist that you do not harass my client or attempt to contact her in any way.

  Henry swore as he screwed the paper up and lobbed it into the wastepaper basket. Damn the man. Did the interfering old goat really think he could tell him what to do? He threw himself sulkily into a chair. The second letter was from Annie.

  I can’t wait to see you again and I’ve been telling Edward all about his wonderful daddy. I can’t wait to move out of this house. Have you found a place of our own yet, darling?

  The silly spoiled bitch had no idea. Where did she think he was going to conjure up digs for them with a small baby? Henry’s eyes narrowed and a slow smile moved across his mouth. What did he care about her opinion? All that mattered now was getting hold of Kaye’s money and his son. The rest of them could go to hell. The third letter was from an estate agent. He read it quickly. Everything was going to plan. Henry smiled then downed his drink, enjoying the burning sensation as it slid down his throat. In the bedroom Ada was sitting up in eager anticipation.

  ‘I must leave you tomorrow.’

  She panicked. ‘Oh Henry, why?’

  ‘I have to see my wife’s solicitor.’

  ‘But darling,’ said Ada, ‘if he’s your wife’s solicitor, he won’t see you.’

  Henry sat dejectedly on the edge of the bed. ‘Don’t you see, Ada, I have to try,’ he said brokenly. ‘Dobbin is more than just a solicitor. He’s an old friend, and besides, he’s retired now. I have to make him see my side of the story and then I can get my son back.’

  Ada gathered him in her arms and he wept on her shoulder. ‘Oh my poor darling,’ she whispered onto the top of his head.

  ‘All I want is to see my son,’ he said, his voice muffled by her frilly nightdress.

  ‘Of course you do,’ Ada soothed. ‘We’ll get onto my solicitor tomorrow.’

  He lifted his head and, cupping her face in his hands, breathed on her lips as he brushed them against his. ‘What would I do without you, my darling?’ Seconds later she was putty in his hands once again.

  *

  In the event, it didn’t take Annie long to find a job. She decided to begin with the small shops nearer home, cold-calling and asking if they had any vacancies. In the early afternoon she went into a tobacconist and sweet shop in Steyne Gardens and asked if there might be a possibility of a position as a counter assistant.

  ‘There might be,’ said the man behind the counter, who had introduced himself as Mr Richardson, the shop’s owner. ‘Next week it’s the end of sweet rationing and they’re saying that there will be a high demand. It’ll be hard work and I’m looking for a capable girl with good references.’

  ‘I am both of those things,’ said Annie, exuding a confidence she didn’t really have. Kaye would give her a reference, she was sure, and she’d made up her mind to prove her worth. She had to if she was to keep Edward.

  Mr Richardson, a wiry man with a bald head and glasses, looked her up and down. ‘Very well Miss … Miss …?’

  ‘Mrs Royal,’ said Annie.

  ‘Mrs,’ Mr Richardson frowned. ‘Do you have children?’

  ‘I have a son, but my mother takes care of him.’

  ‘I see,’ said Mr Richardson, and from the change in the tone of his voice, he was clearly thinking that Annie must be a war widow. ‘In that case, my dear, I should be pleased to offer you a trial run.’

  Annie could have kissed him, but she restrained herself and agreed to start first thing the next morning. It only took her about twelve minutes to walk from home, so she’d be able to come back to Copper Beeches for lunch, which meant she wouldn’t have to spend a whole day without seeing Edward.

  ‘That was quick,’ said Sarah when she told her. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘I have to work from 8.45 a.m. till 5.45 p.m. Monday to Saturday with a half-day off on Wednesday,’ said Annie.

  ‘Sounds reasonable enough,’ said Sarah.

  ‘My wage will be £2/18/-for the first month rising to £3/1/6,’ Annie went on. ‘That’s if I’m deemed to be suitable for the job.’

  ‘Let’s hope you like it then,’ Sarah smiled.

  ‘Oh, I’m determined to,’ said Annie, sweeping her son up in her arms. ‘I have to, for Edward’s sake.’

  *

  The morning of Annie’s first day in the shop, it began to rain. Sarah grabbed the basket and ran outside to collect the washing. April showers were seldom heavy and soon passed but she was anxious to get the baby’s washing inside. Annie didn’t have many things, and now that Edward was becoming more active, it was harder to keep him clean. His grandmother had arrived early that morning to look after him and taken him away in the pram. Sarah had no idea where she was going, but she supposed it was somewhere to show him off to her friends. She obviously adored the little boy.

  Sarah pulled the washing carelessly away from the line, not bothering to fold them neatly as they went into the basket. She glanced up and saw that Mrs Goodall was watching her from the bedroom window. Didn’t the woman have anything better to do with her life than constantly keeping an eye on what was happening next door? Since Kaye sent her packing that time, she’d stopped coming round to complain, but her disapproving glares were a constant. The soft, warm rain trickled into Sarah’s eyes as she looked up at the washing and already her shoulders were damp, but when she reached the end of the line and the last item, Sarah froze. Her apron had been slashed. She held the pieces and stared in disbelief. It had been cut with something very sharp. There were no frayed edges or jagged tears. Whatever had been used to cut the apron had sliced through the material like a knife through butter.

  Her heart began to pound. She spun around anxiously, but although she had the feeling she was being watched, Mrs Goodall was gone and she was quite alone in the garden. Snatching the apron down and rolling it into a ball, she hurried to the house. What could this mean? It had to be Henry’s doing – after all, he’d been out of prison for almost ten days, even though he hadn’t put in an appearance. But why was he doing this? Did he think she had been the one who had brought the police to his house the night he was arrested? He’d been very angry when he’d seen her in Annie’s kitchen and she couldn’t forget the rough way he had manhandled her and the children through the back door, but cutting up washing somehow didn’t seem his style. True, he had lost his temper that night, but normally he was very controlled. He had never seemed a vengeful man either. Henry did things for the moment and when he’d got what he’d wanted, he moved on. Perhaps prison life had changed him more than most.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lottie cut across her thoughts and she realised she was still standing by the back door with the basket of washing on her hip.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sarah, ‘but the washing is back to square one.’

  ‘I’ll get the clothes horse,’ Lottie smiled.

  While she was gone, Sarah threw the cut up apron into the ragbag. No point in worrying anyone else. Together, they put everything onto the clothes horse and by then the rain had stopped.

  ‘We’d better not chance it again,’ said Lottie. ‘I’ll
put it in the lean-to.’

  Sarah watched her go. Dear Lottie. She was much more confident and even beginning to take the initiative now and then. She wished she could confide in her, but that was probably a step too far just yet. Sarah chewed her bottom lip anxiously. What should she do about Henry? If only she had someone to talk to.

  *

  Henry slid along the bench and looked towards the counter. ‘Two teas, love.’

  The woman behind the huge British Rail teapot reached for two chipped cups and set them on the counter. ‘This ain’t a bleedin’ waitress service.’

  Outside on the concourse, they could hear a train working up steam and the announcer telling everyone that the train just about to leave Platform 8 was heading for Basingstoke. ‘Well?’ he said, looking at Dennis Nelson.

  Nelson shook his head. ‘I’ve been watching that house morning, noon and night, but she hasn’t put a foot wrong.’

  ‘That’ll be fourpence,’ said the woman.

  Henry stood up and collected the teas, leaving the right money on the counter. He plonked them down on the table, slopping a little in the saucers as he did so. ‘Is she still going to dances?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Nelson, pulling the cup towards him.

  ‘What about men?’ said Henry irritably.

  ‘I tell you, sir, that girl is as pure as the driven snow. In my opinion …’

  ‘Nobody asked you for your opinion,’ Henry snapped. He was in no mood to hear what a good woman Annie was. His future lay with Ada and her fortune right now, but he didn’t want to leave the country without his son. A man carrying a large suitcase bumped Henry’s arm and apologised as he walked by. Henry didn’t even seem to notice. ‘So what does she do all day?’

  ‘Since I last saw you at Mrs Browning’s place,’ Nelson went on, ‘she’s got herself a job.’

  ‘Got a job?’ said Henry, spitting feathers. ‘I’m not having any wife of mine going out to work. What sort of job?’

  ‘She works in a sweet shop.’

  ‘What about my son? Who’s taking care of him?’

  ‘Cllr Mitchell’s wife,’ said Nelson, spooning two sugars into his tea. ‘I believe she’s the young lady’s mother.’

  Henry’s face darkened. ‘I’m perfectly well aware of who she is,’ he snapped. So she was back in cahoots with her mother. Damn and blast it. He sipped his tea. It was strong enough to strip varnish.

  ‘Did my wife see you watching her?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure none of them realise they’ve been watched. I am very discreet.’

  ‘You sure?’ Henry demanded. ‘Because she’s bound to be on her best behaviour if she thinks she’s being watched.’

  ‘With my raincoat on, nobody in that street has ever noticed me,’ said Nelson. ‘I will admit the old biddy who lives next door spotted me a couple of times, but there’s no love lost between them so you’ve no need to worry on that score.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Henry. ‘When I’ve finished with her, everybody in town will know what sort of a woman she is.’ There was no disguising the look of triumph on his face. Nelson must have looked puzzled because Henry leaned back and took his wallet from his back pocket. He laid three photographs onto the oilcloth between them, then turned them around for Nelson to see. ‘Good, aren’t they?’

  Nelson picked one up and looked at it more closely. Now he could see that the woman in the photograph wasn’t Annie Royal but a clever lookalike.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Henry, snatching it back. ‘My old mother used to say if you look at things like that, you’ll go daft in the head.’

  ‘But …’ Nelson began.

  ‘Once I send these around Worthing, no one will think she’s a fit mother,’ said Henry. He laughed maliciously. ‘And Daddy can kiss being the next mayor goodbye.’

  Nelson felt his stomach churn. His mind was working overtime but he had to keep everything businesslike.

  Henry put the photographs back into his wallet. ‘Now tell me about the others.’

  ‘As I already explained, it appears that Mrs Sarah is housekeeper to the older Mrs Royale,’ said Nelson. ‘She’s something big with the BBC, so the local gossips tell me. She’s up in town again next week.’

  ‘Where’s she staying?’

  ‘That I can’t say for sure,’ said Nelson.

  Henry ground his teeth angrily. ‘You’re not a lot of use then, are you,’ he said bitterly. It was important that he get all the loose ends tied up before his next move.

  ‘But the local butcher reckons she likes to stay at the Langham,’ said Nelson. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. The man seemed to be conducting some sort of vendetta. His mind was in a whirl. He didn’t like the tone of Royale’s voice and what he was going to do with those pictures. That young woman didn’t deserve this. Nelson was well acquainted with the nastier side of life, but Henry Royale had stooped to a new low.

  ‘How the devil would the butcher know?’ Henry demanded.

  Dennis Nelson thumbed his nose. ‘Her housekeeper mentioned it when she cancelled an order.’

  Henry grunted.

  ‘Shall I continue my observations?’ Nelson said pleasantly. Perhaps while he was down there, he could take the opportunity to have a word with Mrs Royal.

  Henry reached for his wallet and pulled out two pounds. ‘That should be enough to cover what you’ve done since we last met.’

  ‘Two quid?’ spluttered Nelson. ‘Now hang on a minute …’

  Henry rose to his feet. ‘I shan’t be needing you again.’

  ‘But what about my expenses,’ Nelson protested. ‘A return trip to Worthing, five nights’ bed and board, and then there’s …’

  ‘That’s all you’re getting from me,’ said Henry, swiping the back of his coat with his glove as he stood up. ‘I paid you to find out what she was up to and all you’ve come back with is the life and times of Snow bloody White.’

  ‘I can’t manufacture sin,’ Nelson protested. ‘I run a respectable agency. Besides, you didn’t employ me. Let’s see what Mrs Browning thinks.’

  Henry pushed his face up close to Nelson. ‘You keep away from Mrs Browning. Or else …’

  Dennis Nelson’s eyes grew wide. ‘Are you threatening me, Mr Royale?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Henry. ‘You’re the detective. You work it out.’ With that, he swept out of the tea rooms, leaving Nelson with an uneasy feeling that all three of those women were in real danger.

  *

  Annie spent her first week in the shop preparing for the big event. Sweets had been rationed since July 1942 and the allowance had remained at 3 oz a week, although at the height of the war it did drop to 2 oz a week. All that was to end on Monday. There was great excitement at the thought of unlimited sweets and hordes of children gathered outside the shop to choose what they would buy once the shop opened. The first thing Mr Richardson asked Annie to do was make a poster.

  To celebrate the end of rationing The Sweetbox will give away 250 bags of sweets to the first 250 children under the age of 14 years. Monday, 25th April at 9 a.m.

  It took her most of the morning but she quite enjoyed doing it. The shop had a steady stream of customers who bought cigarettes, tobacco and the occasional pipe, but few people were buying sweets. Everyone was waiting for Monday. Whenever they had a spare five minutes she made up the giveaway bags. They were more like twists with a few sweets inside, but, nonetheless, to a child who was only used to a few sweets a week, they would seem like gold dust. The business kept Annie’s mind away from the fact that Henry still hadn’t been in touch, and as they worked together, she and Mr Richardson were settled in each other’s company.

  *

  Kaye wasn’t feeling too good again. Her chest was tight and even though she craved a cigarette, she often found it hard to draw on it. Her cough was troublesome too and Sarah would tut crossly whenever she emptied the ashtray, but she still hadn’t told anyone about her X-ray examination. Thank God she had an
other appointment to see her Harley Street specialist on Tuesday.

  *

  With Kaye away in London, Sarah decided to go and see Vera. She hadn’t seen her sister since that night in December when she’d refused to help her. Sarah had mixed feelings; one part of her said good riddance, but another part of her kept saying whatever she’s done, she’s still your sister … blood is thicker than water. After the way Vera had treated her, Sarah had at first vowed never to speak to her again, but as time went on, she couldn’t stop thinking about her. The day her mother died, they had both promised her that they would look after each other, and as angry as she was with Vera, Sarah took that promise very seriously. Since Jenny had moved to her new school and Vera didn’t know where she was living, there was little chance of them bumping into each other, so it was up to her to make the first move.

  Jenny was off on a school trip to Lancing where they were going on a nature walk. The children were very excited and it had been agreed that the whole class would take a short bus ride to the seafront and then walk back. Sarah hadn’t been asked to be a helper, but Mrs Audus was grateful when she saw her at the bus stop. They got the children aboard without incident. As the journey progressed, some of the children had to give up their seats and stand in the aisle to let fare-paying adults sit down. Sarah got off the bus before the rest of the class and Lu-Lu waved a cheery goodbye to her big sister.

  Vera was kneeling, planting a few things in the front garden when they arrived. She jumped to her feet when she saw Sarah and Lu-Lu.

  ‘Where the devil have you been?’ she cried crossly. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you.’

  Sarah kissed her proffered cheek and Vera looked down at Lu-Lu. ‘My, you have grown, haven’t you? Come and give your auntie a kiss.’

  But Lu-Lu was reluctant and hid behind her mother’s skirt.

  ‘I suppose you want a cup of tea,’ said Vera grudgingly as she wiped her hands down the sides of her apron. ‘Take off your shoes before you come in.’

  She led the way into the house, complaining, ‘When you didn’t even bother to send a Christmas card I went round to your place,’ she said wrinkling her nose, ‘but it was all boarded up. Even that Mrs Rivers had gone. It proper upset me, I can tell you. I thought I’d never see any of you again. My nerves were so bad I was under the doctor for weeks.’