Love or Duty

by Roberta Grieve

  Chapter Seven

  The concert at the Albert Hall was a resounding success. Only Dora and Stanley could go, for tickets were limited. But it was also broadcast on the wireless so Louise and Polly sat together, listening entranced. When the applause rang out after Sarah’s song, they hugged each other and danced round the kitchen.

  For a while, Louise was able to forget her own discontent and revel in her sister’s success.

  A few days later they were seated at the breakfast table when the post arrived. Dora opened her letter and let out a gasp. It was from Sarah’s agent, Maurice Weeks, offering her a part in a musical version of Little Women.

  ‘They want her to play the youngest sister, Amy,’ she said.

  Sarah let out a squeal and leapt up, rushing round the table to snatch the letter from her mother. ‘When, where?’ she demanded. Without waiting for a reply she sank into a chair and began to read, her face flushed.

  Louise smiled patiently, knowing that Sarah would share the details in her own time. She glanced at her father who was reading his own post, seemingly unaware of his other daughter’s excitement.

  Sarah noticed too and jumped up again, throwing her arms round her father’s neck. ‘Did you hear, Father? Miss Lane is going to play Jo and I’m to be Amy.’

  Before he could reply, Louise said, ‘You mean Lucia Lane?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘She’s wonderful, I’ll learn such a lot from her.’

  Stanley only half listened as he read his own letter, a stern demand that he settle his bill immediately. He clutched at his chest as pain speared him. Just a touch of indigestion, he told himself, managing to keep his smile firmly in place as Sarah prattled on. It was only natural that she should be excited about the prospect of performing alongside the great Lucia Lane.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do splendidly, my dear,’ he said. At least there was one less thing for him to worry about now. Sarah’s voice was her fortune. She was already making money and with careful investment, overseen by Jones, his accountant, she should never want for anything. Dora would be well provided for too. A handsome insurance policy would take care of that.

  He took a sip of his coffee, his mind now on Louise. What future was there for his elder daughter? Things should be getting better now since Charlton and Spencer were building more new houses. The estate agency side of the business had expanded too since young James Spencer had taken over. But just lately the houses they owned and rented out seemed to need so many repairs and the costs were outweighing the rents they received.

  Worst of all, Stanley was still suffering from the failure of the ambitious Winter Gardens project. Far from putting Holton Regis on the map as a desirable resort, the place had become a white elephant, its buildings boarded up and neglected. Only the dance hall remained open, attracting a most undesirable element as young men from the nearby RAF station flocked into town on Saturday nights to get drunk and force their attentions on the local girls. At least that’s how Dora saw it – and she had a way of putting her point of view over at parish meetings so that poor old Mr Ayling had been forced to take notice and write a strong letter to the station’s commander. But, as Louise pointed out, these lads were far from home and needed somewhere to go in their off-duty hours.

  Poor Louise, Stanley thought. She should be out dancing herself, not stuck in this rambling old house seeing to the imagined needs of an increasingly querulous stepmother. Once again the pain struck and with it the panic, as Stanley wondered once more what he could do for his beloved daughter. At least she would have the house; it was only Dora’s for her lifetime. And in its prime position on the seafront, with its large gardens, it would be a good investment for somebody if Louise chose to sell it.

  He fumbled for one of his tablets and surreptitiously slipped it under his tongue, waiting for it to dissolve and take the pain with it. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, wishing once more that Louise had been a son. Then he would have no fears for her future.

  That night, Louise couldn’t sleep. She and Sarah had sat up late talking excitedly about the audition for the musical. Louise was sure her sister would get the part and she was thrilled for her despite the small twinge of envy. Lying in her bed wondering what the future held for her, she was aroused by a commotion in the street outside – running footsteps, shouts, followed by banging on the front door. Struggling into her dressing-gown she hurried out on to the landing.

  Her father was already downstairs wrestling with the bolts on the front door as the voice outside grew more frantic. ‘Mr Charlton – there’s a fire.’

  Dora’s breathless gasp and Polly’s frightened wails prevented Louise from hearing what exactly was amiss. By the time she had ascertained that the fire was nowhere near Steyne House and persuaded her stepmother to return to bed, Stanley had disappeared into the night.

  She knew there would be no sleep for her now and she asked Polly to make some cocoa. Giving her something to do was the best thing whenever there was a crisis. Sarah, who had joined them on the landing, eyes wide with excitement, followed Louise down to the kitchen.

  ‘I’m sure I can smell smoke,’ she said, pulling the curtain aside and peering out.

  ‘Maybe, but the fire is further along the esplanade – one of the hotels I expect. We’re in no danger here – the wind’s in the wrong direction,’ Louise said.

  ‘Why did they want Father?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Well, he is on the town council and chairman of the fire committee.’

  ‘I don’t see what they expect him to do. Couldn’t they wait till the morning to let him know what happened?’ Sarah yawned. ‘I’m going back to bed. It’s not as if they’d let us anywhere near so we can see the excitement.’

  Louise tutted in exasperation. Sarah could be so insensitive at times. Some poor soul could be losing their home or their livelihood. But it was true, there was nothing they could do. She asked Polly to take a drink up to her stepmother. ‘Then you’d better get back to bed too,’ she told her.

  ‘What about the master?’ Polly asked.

  ‘I’ll wait up for him and make him a hot drink when he returns. It’s a cold night – I hope he’s not gone too long.’

  They shouldn’t have expected him to go out on a night like this, she thought as she sat in Cookie’s old rocking chair in front of the kitchen range. The warmth of the fire was sending her to sleep and she jumped as the door opened.

  Her father’s exhausted body drooped and he grabbed at the door jamb for support. He ran a hand over his face and Louise leapt up and took his arm, helping him to the chair she had just vacated. As she busied herself with hot milk and cocoa powder, she caught the smell of smoke on his jacket. His shoes were wet and she knelt to take them off, then hurried to the hall cupboard for his slippers.

  The milk boiled and she quickly made the cocoa. He clasped his cold hands round the mug and took a grateful sip. Only then did he look up at her, his expression bleak.

  ‘William’s dead,’ he said, his voice a mere croak.

  ‘William – Mr Spencer? It was his house on fire then?’

  ‘No, no – not his house.’ Stanley took another sip of cocoa and gave a long shuddering sigh.

  The office, then. It must have been the office, Louise thought. That’s why they called for Father. But Stanley was speaking again, his voice low and husky. ‘It was the theatre – that’s where they think it started. Then it spread to the restaurant….’ He looked up at her. ‘They managed to save the dance hall but the rest is a ruin.’

  ‘What happened to Mr Spencer then?’

  ‘He thought he saw someone in one of the buildings – dashed in before anyone could stop him. One of the firemen brought him out – overcome by the smoke they said – not burnt.’

  ‘Oh, Father. I’m so sorry. He was your oldest friend.’

  ‘Poor old William – we’d had our differences lately, with the business and all. But I’ll miss him. God knows what will happen now.’ Stanley finished his coc
oa and stood up. ‘I’d better go up and tell Dora what’s happened,’ he said.

  ‘I expect she’s sleeping. She was in such a state – I got Polly to give her a sleeping pill,’ Louise said.

  Stanley touched her cheek. ‘What would we all do without you to take care of us?’ he said.

  Sarah hardly stopped chattering at breakfast, pestering her father for details about the fire and seeming not to notice how ill he looked. Dora of course was still in bed.

  At last Louise could bear it no longer and she spoke quite sharply to her sister. ‘For goodness’ sake, Sarah, shut up. Can’t you see poor Father’s exhausted? He was up half the night.’

  Sarah had the grace to look ashamed and concentrated for a few minutes on her boiled egg. But she wasn’t subdued for long. ‘Can we go and look later on?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t be so morbid,’ Louise snapped, although truth to tell she was curious to see the extent of the damage for herself. What effect would the disaster have on Father’s business, she wondered. He had been part-owner of the Winter Gardens. She was sure it wasn’t only the loss of his friend that was troubling him.

  Louise agreed that they should walk along the seafront later on, but only if the weather let up. The rain, which had started during the night, was still falling and they could hear the waves pounding against the promenade.

  ‘Will you go to the office, Father?’ Louise asked. He didn’t usually go in on a Saturday unless there was urgent business to attend to.

  ‘I suppose I ought to – there will be things to do, the insurance and so on.’ Stanley ran his hand over his face and sighed. He had hardly eaten anything.

  ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, Father….’

  ‘Just keep things running smoothly here – as you always do, my dear,’ Stanley said.

  Polly came to clear the breakfast and Louise followed her to the kitchen after sending Sarah to tidy her room. There were a few sulks but in the end Sarah did as she was told, but only after Louise promised they would go out as soon as it was done.

  Once the chores were finished the sisters, muffled up against the weather, strode along the esplanade towards the Winter Gardens – or all that remained of the place where Sarah had enjoyed her first singing triumph.

  A small crowd huddled against the cold wind just inside the gates watching the firemen picking over the blackened ruins. The fire must have been extremely fierce as, despite the heavy rain, a curl of smoke still rose from the centre of a pile of charred timbers.

  Sarah listened to the murmured speculation going on around her.

  ‘… Could have been one of those young air force lads dropping a cigarette that started it off….’

  ‘No, no. They say it started in the theatre, not the dance hall.’

  ‘Impossible. It was all boarded up.’

  ‘A tramp then – crept in there to shelter from the rain.’

  ‘That sounds more like it – started a fire to keep warm and it got out of control.’

  ‘You mean to say poor old Mr Spencer lost his life trying to save a tramp?’

  ‘There weren’t nobody else in there, though. ’Twas only Mr Spencer’s body they found.’

  Louise couldn’t listen to any more. She grabbed Sarah’s arm and hustled her away, despite her protests.

  ‘Do you think it’s right what they’re saying – a tramp started the fire?’ Sarah asked as they battled against the wind towards Steyne House.

  Louise didn’t answer. She was wondering what the disaster would mean for their family. Could Stanley carry on without William? There was James of course, but, from the little her father had said, she wasn’t sure if he could fill his father’s shoes. Although the young man had a certain charm and was adept at dealing with their clients, he was lazy and incompetent, and Stanley had recently confided that he did not share William’s confidence in his son.

  Now more than ever she wished she’d insisted on being allowed to learn more about the business.

  Her concerns deepened when they reached the house and saw Stanley’s car parked in the street outside. Surely he had left for the office earlier?

  Sarah went into the kitchen to ask Polly for hot chocolate to warm them after their walk, while Louise, without even taking off her coat, entered the study. Her father was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, while Dora stood by the window clutching a sodden handkerchief.

  Father must have told her the news then, Louise thought. But it was more than the death of his partner troubling him as she realized when he raised his head to look at her with bleak eyes. ‘They practically accused me of starting the fire,’ he said. ‘How could they even think such a thing?’

  Dora gave a little cry, then sank into a chair sobbing. ‘Oh, the shame of it….’

  Louise ignored her and put a comforting arm around her father. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

  In a halting voice Stanley explained that he had gone to the office to find James already there, the insurance certificate in his hand. ‘And his own father scarcely cold….’

  Stanley had snatched it away angrily and had been soundly castigating the young man when the police arrived. The inspector’s glance had been cold as he saw the file clearly marked ‘Insurance’ open on his desk, the certificate in his hand.

  Their questioning had been polite but firm. It was quite clear where their suspicions lay. Why had William Spencer been on the scene so quickly? He or an accomplice must have set the fire and both partners in the firm of Charlton and Spencer stood to gain by it.

  ‘They seem to think that when William saw the tramp, or whoever it was, his conscience struck him and he rushed in to prevent an even worse disaster. I just can’t believe it of William,’ Stanley whispered brokenly, his head in his hands once more.

  ‘And I’m sure no one else will either,’ Louise declared.

  ‘But they think I was involved as well.’

  ‘What nonsense! You’re one of the most respected men in this town – and look at all you’ve done for the community.’

  ‘Of course it’s nonsense, my dear. But even the most respectable men have been known to succumb to temptation when the stakes are high enough. And it’s well known that William and I have suffered financial difficulties recently.’

  Louise knelt beside her father and took his hands in hers. ‘You mustn’t think like that. No matter what the police suspect, they must realize in time how wrong they are. When they find no evidence to support their suspicions they’ll soon eat their words.’

  ‘But mud sticks, Louise. Once the rumours start flying round town, no one will want to do business with me.’

  Dora gave a great wail. ‘Oh, Stanley, what will become of us? We shall have to move right away from here. I couldn’t hold my head up….’

  Louise felt the blood rush to her head and she leapt up, ready to give Dora a piece of her mind. Did the woman never think of anyone but herself? Only her father’s gentle hand on her arm and his whispered, ‘She’s upset – take no notice’ restrained her.

  ‘We’re all upset, Father,’ she replied through tight lips.

  The next day Stanley insisted that they all attend church as usual. Dora had breakfasted in bed and was reluctant to get up at all, let alone face the parishioners of St Mark’s.

  Passing from the kitchen to the dining room, Louise paused at the sound of raised voices from upstairs. She smiled. Stanley could be firm when he chose and this time he wasn’t letting Dora get the better of him.

  ‘They’ll all be talking about us. I can’t face it, I just can’t,’ Dora wailed.

  ‘Yes you can, Dora. It is I who will bear the brunt of the gossip. But I have done nothing to be ashamed of and the only way I can convince people of that is by carrying on as usual and holding my head up high. I am relying on you and the girls to support me in this.’

  Louise was waiting at the foot of the stairs and she gave her father an impulsive hug. ‘Of course you can rely on us. It will be hard but we’ll
do it.’

  ‘I am very fortunate in my family,’ Stanley said. ‘Your stepmother will be down in a moment. Is Sarah ready?’

  Louise nodded and Stanley went on. ‘I am sure poor Mrs Spencer and her son won’t shirk going to church this morning. Be sure to greet them warmly and let people see that they have our support too. The gossip around them will surely be more intense.’

  What a kind man he is, to think of others when he is in such trouble himself, Louise thought, as she went to hustle her sister into joining them. She had expected Sarah to be sulking today. After all, it was soon after the London concert and she had been looking forward to all the attention when they arrived at church that morning. The disaster which had struck their father had quite eclipsed her triumph.

  But Sarah was not as self-centred as she sometimes appeared and Louise felt quite proud of her as she held her head high and marched to their pew. Those who stared were treated to dazzling smiles as if Sarah thought they were congratulating her on her performance. Dora too, despite the evidence of tears and the spots of colour high on her cheeks, held on to her husband’s arm and greeted their acquaintances with dignity.

  Their ordeal wasn’t over yet, though. When Mr Ayling mounted the pulpit for his sermon he naturally mentioned the fire and asked for those present to pray for the soul of William Spencer and to bring comfort to his family and that of his business partner, ‘our respected church warden, Mr Charlton’.

  Louise glanced round at the sound of shuffling feet and caught a few hostile stares directed at them. She felt herself grow hot. The rumour machine was already in operation then. She looked down at her hands, twisting her gloves in her fingers and hardly noticing what the vicar was saying. Then she let out a slow sigh of relief as she realized he was berating his congregation, telling them they must take no notice of vile rumours.