by Pam Weaver
When they had seen the number of bodyguards at the pavilion, their sense of urgency had rapidly diminished. These men were tough-looking athletes – some of them boxers – and they all gave the impression that the BUF could look after its own. She, Percy and Jim were actually on their way home when the colonel stumbled at the top of the steps, bringing other people down with him as he fell – and Jim was underneath them all. The hot tears that now filled her eyes rolled across her face and onto the pillow. It hurt to think that Jim thought it was all her fault. His legs had been damaged, and that’s why he didn’t want to make love to her. Perhaps his feelings for her had changed as well. She thought back to those wonderful nights in their marital bed in Newlands Road. How sweet and tender he had been back then – a considerate, yet powerfully exciting lover. Was it so wrong to want the old Jim back?
‘Jim,’ she said softly into the darkness, ‘I’m so sorry I hurt you, darling. Please forgive me?’
She held her breath and listened, but the slow rhythmical sound of his breathing told her that her husband was already asleep.
CHAPTER 3
It was hard for Ruby to go back to a normal routine. She struggled to come to terms with what had happened over the past few days. She hadn’t been close to Mrs McCoody, but she worried that her neighbour might have been sitting in her chair, feeling ill and calling for help, for a long time before she died.
‘Ruby, you don’t know that happened,’ Bea reassured her. ‘Mrs McCoody always gave the impression that she was hale and hearty.’
‘But what on earth could have caused such a sudden death?’ said Ruby.
Until a post-mortem was done, nobody knew; but that sobering thought made Ruby face up to her own mortality. Mrs McCoody had got up one morning, washed and dressed and eaten her meals. In all probability she made plans for tomorrow and another tomorrow, not knowing that that day would be her last on earth. It was a morbid and scary fact that any day could be your last.
‘These things happen,’ her mother said. ‘Don’t dwell on it.’
But Ruby found herself imagining her own demise, or how awful it would be when her mother died, and that upset her even more.
It was also hard to come to terms with Jim’s reaction to her clumsy attempt to make love again. Jim was the only man she had known, in the biblical sense. Much of their bedroom activity had been accomplished by instinct and his more practised lead. Bea had never talked to her about marital relations, not even before Ruby’s wedding day; and apart from a few titillating suggestions from her friend Edith Parsons, when Ruby got married she was woefully ignorant about such things. She still didn’t have any idea how things were done. Should a wife always wait for her husband to make the first move? Was it right to try and seduce him? Jim had apparently been shocked by her advances and had told her to ‘behave’. Did that mean she was being lewd or disgusting?
Edith was engaged to Bernard Gressenhall, who worked at Potter & Bailey’s grocery store, but as far as Ruby knew, Edith was still a virgin. The only girl who might know what to do was Cousin Lily. Although she wasn’t married, Cousin Lily was an experienced woman of the world. However, there was one major snag about talking to her. Lily was hopeless at keeping secrets. She didn’t mean to gossip, but she loved to share things, ‘in the strictest confidence’. Ruby knew that anything she told Lily would eventually reach Jim’s ears, so she was always guarded with what she told her cousin. The problem was: if Jim continued to rebuff her, Ruby knew she was doomed to a miserable and childless marriage, and just the thought of it brought fresh and bitter tears.
The house next door was strangely silent, once the police had gone. Biscuit made no attempt to go back home. He had adopted Ruby and Jim and was settling in quite well. Mrs McCoody was with the undertaker, and because her only relative, a nephew, was nowhere to be found, it was decided that her solicitor, Mr Collins, would arrange the funeral. He was anxious to get it over and done with, because he was about to retire. Ruby wanted to offer to host the wake, but soon discovered that it was to be held in the solicitor’s favourite pub – at Mrs McCoody’s expense, of course.
The day before the funeral, Ruby noticed a man and woman knocking on Mrs McCoody’s front door. Unable to get an answer, they walked down the side of the house and tried the back door. Concerned that they might be friends of her dead neighbour, Ruby came out of her kitchen and called over the low fence. ‘Excuse me, can I help you?’
‘We’re looking for the landlady,’ said the woman. She was about fifty, heavy-set and wearing a tweed suit. She wore stout shoes, and Ruby couldn’t help noticing her hairy top lip and rather masculine hairstyle. ‘Eton crop’ they called it. The man with her was completely different. A little older than Ruby, he had an athletic build and dark curly hair. When he smiled, a long crease appeared on each side of his face and, even when he wasn’t smiling, he had merry eyes. She noticed that he carried a small leather case.
‘Then I’m afraid I have some rather bad news,’ said Ruby softly. When she told them what had happened, they were both visibly shocked. ‘The funeral is tomorrow.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the man. ‘Were you very close?’
Ruby shook her head. ‘Just neighbours.’
The woman glanced at her companion. ‘What on earth do we do now?’
‘We’ll have to look elsewhere,’ he said with a shrug and, looking at Ruby, he added, ‘I don’t suppose you know of any other guest house nearby?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Ruby, ‘I run a guest house myself. Mrs McCoody and I had an arrangement. She often used to send a guest to stay with me, if she was full up, and vice versa.’
The pair looked at each other, then at Ruby.
‘In that case,’ said the woman, ‘could we make an appointment to see you? After the funeral perhaps?’
Bea studied herself in the mirror. She was still the same person as she had been when she was married to Nelson Bateman, but now that she was married to Rex Quinn, her life was totally different. As Nelson’s wife, although she had lived in her own house, it was difficult to keep clean and at times she struggled with the housework. She had suffered with her chest for years and dreaded the chilly, damp winters when she seemed to get cold after cold. Now that she was a doctor’s wife, her living standards were much higher. Her house was warm and dry, and Rex employed a daily woman, which meant that Bea didn’t even have to deal with the drudgery of housework and washing. They had electricity, an indoor bathroom and hot running water.
In keeping with just about every other housewife in the country, Bea had no idea how much her husband earned, but she never lacked for money and was slowly beginning to relax and enjoy life’s little luxuries. It meant that she was able to indulge herself by setting a pretty table with matching serviettes, and she had plenty of time to embroider her own tablecloths and chair backs. For someone like Bea, used to managing on a very tight budget, her weekly allowance was more than enough.
Socially it was a little harder to find acceptance, and sometimes she felt as if she was tiptoeing through a minefield. She struggled with the snobbery of some of Rex’s acquaintances, as well as with the reticence of some of her old neighbours to still treat her as a friend. Her biggest problem was boredom. When Rex was working, Bea could always go to a matinee at the pictures, but without the company of a female friend, it wasn’t really the done thing. Her old friends from Newlands Road would be working or couldn’t afford an afternoon at the cinema, and she soon discovered that it embarrassed or offended them if she offered to pay.
Whenever he was free, Rex did his best to remedy the situation. They went for country jaunts in his 1934 Morris Eight, and he invited fellow GPs and their wives to dinner. But Bea was only too aware that the women tended to look down on this fisherman’s wife made good.
All that changed when Bea met Mrs Euphemia (‘Do call me Effe’) Rhodes. Rex had been invited to dinner by Effie and Augustus (known to his friends as Gus), and Effie took to Bea straight away. She
was older than Bea by perhaps as many as fifteen years, a kind of jolly-hockey-sticks type of woman, the no-nonsense sort who dressed in tweed skirts and sensible shoes. Tonight, however, she was elegantly dressed in a maroon silk frock, which complemented the three stands of genuine pearls that she wore over her ample bosom. She was well built, but not flabby. She kept active on the tennis court and enjoyed walking. Gus was a congenial fellow with a handlebar moustache, which he twisted to a point on each side of his face. He was a smaller man than his wife, of wiry build and a keen model-railway enthusiast. He spent hours with his model trains and had built in his study a station set in a large landscape. Always smartly dressed in a suit with a waistcoat, Gus had a pipe permanently in his mouth. He made them laugh as he confided that he never smoked it, but in his younger days someone had told him it made him look sophisticated, and now he couldn’t bear to give up the habit. Gus had been in the Colonial Office abroad somewhere, but had now retired.
As they enjoyed their aperitifs, Effie asked Bea about her family. ‘I saw you and your daughter the other day when we were motoring along Marine Parade,’ she said. ‘I think you had probably been on the beach. A pretty child. How old is she?’
‘Almost eleven,’ said Bea.
‘She’s doing quite well at school,’ said Rex, as Gus handed him a drink.
‘She’ll soon be moving to Worthing High School,’ Bea chipped in.
‘Well done,’ said Effie. ‘And what about your other children?’
‘Percy, my son, and his wife live in London,’ said Bea proudly, ‘and my other daughter runs a guest house at the sea end of Heene Road.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Effie, ‘I think you told me about her. Her husband is an invalid, isn’t he?’
Bea nodded.
‘She sounds like a plucky girl, if she runs a guest house as well,’ said Effie admiringly.
‘She certainly is, Effie,’ Rex agreed heartily.
‘Do you have children?’ Bea asked.
She was puzzled by the glance Effie and Gus gave each other. Perhaps that was too personal a question. She hardly knew the woman, after all. Then Effie said rather stiffly, ‘Sadly not, but we comforted ourselves that children might have hindered Gus’s career.’
Bea was immediately embarrassed. She wished she hadn’t asked. She had obviously opened an old wound. ‘Yes, yes, of course.’
‘Gus and Effie were working in Cameroon for years,’ said Rex, coming to the rescue.
‘Nearly twenty years,’ Gus nodded. ‘Back then Kamerun was in German hands, governed by an old friend of ours – Karl Ebermaier. Do you know him?’
Rex shook his head.
‘Capital fellow,’ Gus smiled. ‘There’s still a sizeable German population working out there. Beautiful country.’
The maid called them for dinner and, after an enjoyable meal with compliments flying all around, the four of them settled down with coffee.
‘What did you used to do for amusement in Hastings, my dear?’ said Effie, leaning back comfortably in her chair.
‘I sang in the church choir for a while,’ said Bea, ‘but it wasn’t really for me.’
‘You joined the Townswomen’s Guild, didn’t you, darling?’ Rex added.
‘Oh yes, I did,’ Bea agreed. ‘I enjoyed it.’
‘I don’t think we have a branch in these parts,’ Effie remarked.
‘Anybody fancy a few hands of whist?’ said Gus.
Rex and Bea were not really bothered, but Effie and Gus moved from the loungers to the table and got out the cards. Effie went first, drawing the six of clubs as they cut to deal. Bea drew the two of hearts.
‘Looks like I’m the dealer,’ said Gus, after he’d drawn the jack of spades and Rex had the ten of clubs. He shuffled the pack and gave everyone thirteen cards, before putting the final card, the three of diamonds, face up and declaring that diamonds were trumps.
Sitting on Gus’s left, Bea led with the first trick. Effie won it with a trump card and led the next trick, and for a while they simply concentrated on the game. At the end of thirteen tricks they paused for more drinks, and Rex blew Bea a kiss when their guests weren’t looking.
‘How’s business, Rex?’ asked Gus. ‘Got enough patients yet?’
‘Not quite,’ said Rex. ‘I’ve added most of Dr Carter’s old patients to the list, but I don’t have very many affluent names.’
‘I could name a few, if you like,’ said Gus.
‘Seriously?’ asked Rex.
‘Mind you, I haven’t seen them for donkey’s years,’ said Gus, chuckling. ‘I hope they’re still alive.’
‘Oh, Gus,’ Effie scolded. ‘You can’t say that!’
‘Why not? He wants live patients, doesn’t he?’ He grinned mischievously. ‘What about Ivy Robinson? She sprained her wrist twenty years ago. Dr Warner told her to keep the bandage on. I saw her last week and, I kid you not, she still had the bloody bandage on!’
Bea gasped. ‘You mean she’s kept the same bandage on for twenty years?’
‘Well, not the same one,’ Gus conceded, ‘but she’s kept it covered all that time.’ He glanced at Rex. ‘Two visits in twenty years – she’d be no trouble.’ He lowered his voice to a mutter, ‘Mind you, she won’t bring you much income, either.’
‘Oh, Gus, behave,’ Effie scolded again as everybody joined in the laughter.
‘Then there’s the major,’ said Gus, clearly on a roll now. ‘Ol’ Doc Brasher asked him for a sample, and he turned up with it in a whisky bottle. The doc said that, judging by the smell when he unscrewed the lid, the major hadn’t bothered to wash it out first. Either that or his pee was pickled.’
The two men guffawed and Effie rolled her eyes. ‘You know, my dear,’ she said to Bea, ‘you should think about starting one around here.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Something like the Townswomen’s Guild.’
Bea was taken by surprise.
‘Why not?’ said Effie. ‘You said you were a member. You must know what’s expected.’
‘Come on, everybody,’ Rex interrupted. ‘The night is still young. Let’s have another game.’
The evening finally broke up at around eleven. ‘Thank you for coming, my dear,’ said Effie, giving Bea a peck on the cheek.
‘Next time you must both come to us,’ said Bea.
Gus and Effie stood at the door and waved. As they left, Effie motioned to Bea, who wound down the window of the passenger door. ‘Do have a think about what I said, Bea dear – about starting a club for ladies. I promise to be your first member.’
‘What was all that about?’ said Rex as he drove home. When Bea explained, he was very enthusiastic. ‘I think you should do it.’
‘Do you really think I could?’ she asked as he pulled up in the driveway.
Rex switched off the engine and, drawing her into his arms, kissed her lips softly. ‘You always did underestimate yourself, my darling,’ he said, nuzzling her neck. ‘You are perfectly capable of doing anything you set your mind to.’
In the last hour before they went to bed, Effie and Gus were busy stacking everything on the kitchen draining board. Dirty pans were filled with water to soak off any dried-on food, the cutlery was left in a dish of cold water, and the glasses were lined up by the sink. They didn’t wash anything – the daily woman would do that when she came in the morning – but Effie liked to have her dining room free of crumbs and dirty plates, in case they encouraged the mice.
Having shaken the tablecloth outside the back door, Effie found Gus scraping leftovers into the waste bin.
‘So what do you think of Bea?’ she asked.
‘I think she’ll do nicely,’ he said. ‘Compliant, grateful to be noticed, hard-working . . . Yes, I reckon you’ve chosen well, old thing. She fits the bill perfectly, but don’t sound too keen.’
‘I didn’t,’ Effie snapped indignantly.
‘Yes, you did, old gel,’ Gus insisted. ‘The trick is making the lackey think it’s his idea in the firs
t place.’
Effie gave him a self-satisfied grin. ‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ she said, ‘she will.’
CHAPTER 4
Jim was on his way to the shed – which, like the washing line and compost heap, was behind the hedge at the bottom of the garden – when the two people who had been banging on Mrs McCoody’s door earlier in the week came back to the house.
‘This is Mr Searle, my husband,’ said Ruby as they brushed past each other.
The woman put her hand to her chest. ‘Miss Bullock,’ she said, repositioning it immediately. ‘Pleased to meet you, and this is Mr Balentine.’ The three of them shook hands. Jim, supporting himself on the back of the wheelchair, grunted. The monkey was balanced on the seat of the wheelchair in its cage and was half-covered by the blanket.
‘My husband caught the little monkey that was running around in Rowlands Road,’ Ruby said, by way of explanation. ‘He’s busy making it a bigger cage.’
Miss Bullock seemed astonished. ‘You actually caught it?’ she gasped.
Jim pulled the covering right back. ‘I set a trap,’ he said, with the vaguest hint of a smile.
‘How extraordinary,’ said Miss Bullock. ‘I think most people thought the animal was dead. Nobody has seen it for days.’
‘We never did find the owner,’ said Ruby.
The monkey chattered away in its too-small cage, as Jim excused himself and set off down the path.
‘My husband had an accident,’ said Ruby, as Miss Bullock turned to her with a quizzical expression. Mr Balentine gave her a sympathetic smile.
It turned out that Miss Bullock and Mr Balentine were helping to organize a cultural exchange between two schools, one in Worthing and the other in Germany. With Mrs McCoody unable to take the boys she’d promised to have, they first had to report back to their committee, before making any other moves. Having seen the accommodation on offer, Miss Bullock and Mr Balentine seemed delighted. When they all came back downstairs, Ruby showed them into the sitting room and offered them a cup of tea. While she pottered about in the kitchen, she accidentally on purpose left the sitting-room door slightly ajar.