For Better For Worse (32 page)

‘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 another 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.’

Sarah found herself apologising.

As usual, Vera’s place was immaculate. It was like a show house. Everything in her spotless kitchen matched or blended. The walls were canary yellow and she had yellow gingham curtains. The kitchen chairs had matching cushions and there was absolutely nothing on the work surfaces.

‘Sit still, Lu-Lu,’ Vera said pulling out a chair, then looking at Sarah she said, ‘does she need to go to the toilet?’

Inwardly, Sarah sighed. This was going to be a trying visit.

*

Although the doctor’s office was plush, it bordered on the old-fashioned. Furnished with heavy, dark furniture, there was little light coming through windows which were badly in need of a window cleaner. Kaye perched herself slightly sideways and was almost swallowed up by the leather seat in the waiting area. She flicked an imaginary piece of fluff from her grey pencil skirt.

‘Mr Young will only be a minute,’ the receptionist told her. She was a plain-looking woman with a severe bun and round-rimmed glasses. ‘Can I get you anything?’

Kaye shook her head and at the same moment Mr Young opened the door to his office and came out with a middle-aged man. ‘Book another appointment,’ he smiled, ‘and I’ll see you in a month.’

The two men shook hands and the doctor went back into his office. Kaye watched the patient make his appointment, and as he turned to leave, the man raised his hat to her. ‘Top rate man,’ he smiled encouragingly.

Kaye nodded and relaxed.

As the street door closed, the doctor came out to fetch her. He shook hands and steered her towards the office but not before he’d mouthed something to the receptionist. The room was panelled and clearly from a bygone age. The windows were small and there was a couch against one wall. Kaye sat on a more formal chair on one side of his desk while Mr Young went around the other side.

‘Your results are all back now, Mrs Royale,’ he began. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘A bit breathless at times,’ Kaye admitted. She took off her gloves and unbuttoned her jacket. ‘I do get rather tired. I’m hoping you might prescribe a tonic.’ She smiled encouragingly but the doctor’s face remained serious.

‘I’m afraid I have some rather bad news,’ he said, coming around the desk again. He perched on the corner and reached for her hand. ‘Mrs Royale … Kaye … my dear, the results are not good.’

‘You mean I’m going to need an operation?’ Kaye was already focussing her mind on a possible delay of her deadline. It would be a bit inconvenient but not insurmountable.

‘Kaye, I’m afraid you have lung cancer. It’s pretty advanced and there’s not a lot we can do.’ Mr Young paused to let her digest what he had just said.

She searched his face desperately. ‘A friend of mine said she had radiotherapy,’ she began.

‘It’s far too late for that, my dear,’ said Mr Young. ‘In fact, I’m afraid I can’t offer you any treatment.’

She became aware that he was still holding her hand and snatched it back. There was a soft knock on the door and the receptionist came in with a tea tray. Kaye fiddled with her gloves. Mr Young waited until his receptionist had gone and then poured his patient a cup. He put in two large spoons of sugar and, opening his desk drawer, took out a small silver flask. ‘You’ve just had one hell of a shock,’ he said, ‘but one thing I can promise you. When the time comes, we will make you as comfortable as possible.’

Her brain refused to function. She felt as if she was watching a film or a play on stage. It didn’t seem real. When the time came? She watched him lace the tea with brandy, or perhaps it was whisky, and took the cup. Her hand trembled slightly and her chest was tight. She could feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes. ‘How long?’ she whispered. ‘How long have I got?’

He looked her straight in the eye. ‘Three to six months.’

Kaye gulped the tea. Six months, was that all? But she’d only just got her success. All those years struggling to be independent and recognised and all she’d got was six months. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t real. This was a horrible dream and she’d wake up in a minute. ‘Are you sure?’

Mr Young nodded. ‘I’m sorry, my dear.’

Kaye rose unsteadily to her feet.

‘It’s a pity you didn’t bring someone with you,’ Mr Young was saying, ‘but if you would like to take a seat in the waiting room, I’ve arranged for a nurse to escort you home.’ They’d reached the big leather chair again. ‘My receptionist has telephoned her and she will be here shortly.’

Kaye wasn’t really listening. ‘I’m sorry … Who will be here?’

‘The nurse who will take you home,’ said Mr Young.

‘But I live in Worthing.’

‘That’s fine,’ said the doctor. ‘She will go with you all the way.’

‘I’m not going back until tomorrow.’ She felt irritated. She didn’t want this silly conversation. She didn’t want a nurse either.

‘She’ll do whatever you want.’ He patted Kaye’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear.’

She was suddenly filled with anger. She wanted to smack his patronising, condescending face and was glad when he left her settled in the waiting area. Her half-drunk cup of tea was placed on the low table beside her, and when she looked up, Mr Young was already showing his next patient into his office. The receptionist went back to her typing, and when she turned to the filing cabinet for something, Kaye slipped out onto the street.

‘What have you done to your hair?’

Sarah and Jenny were in the kitchen where Jenny was helping her mother to lay the table. Sarah moved some books from the table so that they could put on the tablecloth. She’d been curious about the silver salver she polished every week, so she’d been looking at some old books about antiques. She found them fascinating and even identified the painting of a springer spaniel in the hallway as a William Albert Clark. She hadn’t realised before but quite a lot of Kaye’s things were very valuable.

She and Jenny had been talking about the school trip. The children had been along the shoreline collecting things for the classroom nature table and then they had sat on the green near the wartime shelters to eat their lunch. Jenny had talked excitedly about the different seaweeds she had found and she and her mother had hung a piece she’d brought home with her outside the back door.

‘Mrs Audus says it will tell us what the weather will be like,’ Jenny said.

‘I’m sure it will,’ Sarah agreed. ‘If it’s wet, it’s raining, and if it’s all dried up, it’ll be sunny.’