For Better For Worse (36 page)

‘Does that mean you’ll be leaving us and going back home?’ Lottie asked as they ate their evening meal later on.

‘I don’t want to,’ said Annie. ‘I know I’ve been a bit of a pain in the past, but I like my life right now. It’s been wonderful having a bit of independence, but if I stay here, I still can’t support Edward on my wages.’

‘We will miss you,’ said Sarah, passing the vegetable dish. She meant it sincerely and hoped Annie understood that.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ Jenny wailed, her eyes already filling with tears. ‘Lu-Lu and me like playing with Edward.’

‘Lu-Lu and I,’ her mother gently corrected.

Annie grasped the little girl’s hand. ‘I’m not going just yet,’ she said. ‘Not for a long, long time. And if I do, Edward and I will have you over to our house to play. You might even be able to sleep over.’

‘At your house?’ said Jenny, brightening up.

‘Maybe,’ said Annie, glancing across the table at Sarah and giving her a shrug. She looked down. ‘What’s that you’ve got in your hand?’

Jenny climbed onto her mother’s lap and showed her a piece of sewing. It was a tray cloth with some simple embroidery done on a large hole fabric. ‘Oh, that’s lovely darling,’ Sarah beamed. The stitches were big and she’d obviously worked the thread using a crewel needle, but the vivid reds and blues brought a splash of colour to the table.

‘I did it at school,’ said Jenny, ‘and Mrs Audus says it was the best in the class.’

‘Isn’t she clever!’ cried Lottie. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘William Steel thought it was silly,’ said Jenny.

William Steel, William Steel, Sarah thought angrily. He was beginning to be a real thorn in Jenny’s side. She would have to have a word with Jenny’s teacher.

‘Do you know what I think,’ said Sarah, holding the little tray cloth up. ‘I think Mr Lovett would want to buy this for his rich ladies in London.’

Jenny’s heart was bursting with pride. ‘But it’s a present for you, Mummy.’

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and put it proudly under her plate as they ate the meal. As she looked around the table, she reflected on the changes in all their lives. She and Annie hadn’t had a tetchy conversation for ages; Annie had grown up an awful lot since she’d arrived. Lottie was a completely different woman too. Confident and happy, she had a keen eye when it came to home furnishings and decorating. Even though the war had been over for four years, and things were getting slightly better, the country still had to make do and mend to some degree, but given a tin of paint or a few embroidery silks, Lottie could transform a broken-down chair or a clapped-out fire screen in no time. She’d taught herself a lot of new skills and particularly enjoyed inventing new dishes in the kitchen. Since her successful stint at the Labour Hall, in the past month, Lottie had even joined the WRVS, making quite a few new friends at the tea bar in Worthing Hospital, and she was a member of the Barnardo’s Helpers League, where she was able to sell some of her crafts to raise funds for orphaned children.

Kaye wasn’t with them tonight. Sarah knew that yesterday she was meeting an old friend in London and she hoped that the reason Kaye wasn’t with them was because she had decided to stay an extra night. Sarah hoped she was having a good time. She deserved it. The only fly in the proverbial ointment was that awful cough of hers. Kaye had cut down on her cigarettes since that choking fit of hers, but she hadn’t given them up altogether because she said they calmed her nerves. Now that the better weather was here, she was taking walks along the seafront again, so Sarah had high hopes that her health would improve.

The children were thriving and happy. Lu-Lu loved her dollies, and apart from her run-ins with William Steel, Jenny was doing well at school. Edward, propped in the baby chair, was melting everyone’s hearts with his gummy lopsided grins. Sarah had never seen such a placid baby.

As for her own life, if she was honest, at times it felt as if it had stalled a little. She still kept in touch with Mrs Angel and she still had the occasional order for baby clothes from her customers, although Mr Lovett had never come back to the shop. The two women would sit out in the back among the bags of ‘put-by’ wool customers left in the shop until they had the money to buy it. They’d have a quick cup of tea and talk over old times. Sarah had been to look at her old house, which had been done up and sold. The house next door where Mrs Rivers had lived had also been sold. Mrs Angel said she had left in a hurry, and just in time by all accounts.

‘She’d left no forwarding address,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘She’d had enough of that son of hers, I suppose.’

‘I don’t blame her,’ Sarah agreed, nodding her head sagely.

The gossip around the town was that when her son got out of prison, no one knew where his mother was, so he’d got roaring drunk, put a brick through the pub window and was arrested again.

And then there was Bear. Dear Bear. Her feelings for him were unlike anything she’d ever felt for any man. She thought of him constantly. She’d thought she’d loved Henry, but what she felt for him was nothing in comparison to what she felt for Bear. It was the difference between night and day, or a night light and a lighthouse. She wished the police would hurry up and give him permission to court her. They still met with others present, but she longed to be alone with him. The girls enjoyed his company and as she thought back to that day on the hillside when they had all ridden the toboggan together, she smiled happily.

Now that the house was clean and well run, Sarah found herself worrying about her next step. She did the books for three more local businesses and her burgeoning interest in antiques was gathering momentum. Yonks ago she had found an old book in a jumble sale called
The Encyclopaedia of Antiques.
It had only cost her a penny, but it was worth its weight in gold. She’d read it from cover to cover and had just discovered the soup tureen with salver she regularly cleaned twice a month was in fact from the late eighteenth century. Kaye had told them to throw it out and it had only been saved from the dustbin because Sarah had asked to keep it. ‘Take it,’ Kaye had laughed. ‘Ugly old thing. You’re welcome to it.’

She would do the decent thing and tell Kaye how much it was worth and if Kaye let her keep it, as she strongly suspected she would, she would sell it. She could use the money to pay for lessons with an auctioneer or an antique dealer.

‘You’re miles away.’ Annie’s comment brought her back to the present. ‘Can you pass the custard, please?’

‘What are you smiling about?’ asked Lottie.

‘Choices,’ said Sarah, passing the custard jug. ‘Something I never thought I’d have.’

*

Henry stared at the open car door trying to gather his thoughts. He stood shakily and painfully to his feet but saw at once that there was nothing he could do for Kaye. Served her right, the bloody bitch. She’d tried to kill them both. He could hear shouting, and just over the low hedge he could see somebody’s head bobbing along as they ran down the road to the telephone box by the crossroads. By now, a couple of other cars had stopped and the drivers were helping the lorry driver down from his cab. Any minute they would be coming his way. The car had careered across the road as the lorry hit it broadside. He’d been unable to stop it ploughing through a hedge and on into a field where it had finally come into collision with a tree. Kaye had been thrown forward and lay partway across the dashboard. The windscreen was shattered. His car door must have burst open on impact, or maybe a bit before, because somehow or other, he had been thrown out onto the ground. Both suitcases had burst open on impact. Her clothes were strewn across the grass. His papers fluttered everywhere. Painfully, he bent to pick them up, stuffing them any old how back into the case. The brooch he’d intended to give Kaye when he moved back in was still in its box. A sudden thought hit him. If the police came, they might lock him up again while they found out what happened. Worse still, if they discovered he was an ex-jailbird they might not find the key in a hurry. He didn’t want to be locked up again. He checked himself and discovered that apart from a pain in his side and a bit of blood when he took his hand away, he was none the worse for the accident. There was a wooded area nearby. If he kept close to the hedge, he could hide in the woods until everybody had gone home. If he could get back to London before nightfall, he could report the car stolen and no one would be any the wiser, or better still, he could hitch a lift to Worthing and fetch his son before anyone could put two and two together.

The voices were getting nearer – it was now or never. Keeping his body low, Henry ran along the edge of the hedge and ducked down in the dry ditch as the people from the road appeared in the field. He was hampered by the stitch in his side, which seemed to be getting worse, but from where he was he could see when the ambulance, and then the police arrived. He saw the ambulance take Kaye and the police took the lorry driver. There was one heart-stopping moment when a policeman looked across the field as if he was looking for someone else, but nobody came. Now Henry was quite alone. Years of neglect meant that the edges of the field were already very overgrown, but there was a gap between the bramble bushes and the road which was wide enough for him to move along without being seen. Safe in the woods, Henry leaned back on a reasonably soft spot and closed his eyes. He would rest here for a while and then hitch a lift down south. Everything was in place and he couldn’t allow her to mess up his plans, not at this late stage. By this time tomorrow, he and his son would be out of everybody’s reach.

*

After their meal, the children were put to bed and Lottie got the cards out. The three of them were playing a game of rummy when the telephone rang.

‘Ah,’ said a familiar voice. ‘You’re in.’

‘Bear!’ cried Sarah. ‘How lovely to hear from you.’

‘Can I come round?’ he said, the seriousness of his voice making her feel uncertain.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘I’ll tell you when I see you,’ he said, leaving her with the dialling tone.

About fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang. His face was grey and Sarah looked at him anxiously. Had the police authority told him they couldn’t date? Her stomach fell away with disappointment. She really liked him, but she knew he loved his job. He would probably tell her he would give up being a policeman if it was the only way they could be together, but she couldn’t let him do that, could she? How could she expect him to be happy in some other job? He was a copper through and through.

She showed him to the sitting room and as Lottie made to leave he asked her to stay. ‘Where’s Annie?’

‘Putting Edward to bed,’ said Sarah.

‘I’d like you all to be here,’ said Bear.

Sarah frowned. ‘I’m afraid Kaye is in town but I’ll call Annie if you like.’

Something must have happened to Henry, she thought as she called Annie’s name up the stairs. He’s married another woman or something. Annie came down a few minutes later and joined them in the sitting room.

‘There’s been an accident,’ Bear said as they all looked at him anxiously. Sarah’s hand went to her mouth, and Lottie let out a small cry. Annie stared blankly ahead. ‘It’s Kaye, I’m afraid. She’s in hospital.’

The street light was right outside the house, which meant it was difficult to slip unnoticed into the garden. He took his time until he was sure nobody was around, but as soon as he turned by the hedge, he caught his coat on a rose bush. The bloody thorns were about an inch long and he snagged his fingers a couple of times trying to release himself. He must be mad doing this. Why didn’t he just forget it? Creeping along the flower border, he found a spot behind a large buddleia where he could see right into the kitchen. They hadn’t drawn the curtains, so he could see a woman he didn’t know and the two little girls sitting at the table eating a meal. His stomach rumbled, but by far the strongest emotion was the anxiety which had brought him here. His nose was dripping. He sniffed but it wasn’t enough, so he pinched the end of it with his fingers and wiped his hand on his trouser leg. Then he saw the car coming into the drive. He only just managed to duck down behind the buddleia before the headlights would have picked him out. A man got out and rang the doorbell. As soon as the bloke went inside, he’d decided to leg it. She was safe for the moment, but he had to see her before it was too late. He’d played the waiting game long enough. It was time to put his plan into action. One last look at the house, but as he turned away, he had the feeling that he was being watched. His heart began to quicken as he scoured the garden. It was then that he saw the woman at the window. As soon as she realised he was looking, she let the curtain drop, but he knew full well that she was still there.

*

Mrs Goodall stepped back into the room. There! She’d been right all along. That man in the car knew exactly where to come and now there was another one lurking around in the shrubbery. She could tell he was a lowlife. What decent man would be hanging around the garden at this time of night? She ran downstairs to check that her front and back doors were locked. It really was too bad. Summer was on the way and she would have to keep her windows shut at all times. She was trembling, but she wasn’t sure whether it was in fear or anger. The police had listened to what she had to say, but apart from making a note of her complaint, they hadn’t even bothered to check her story. The newspaper reporter was a lot more interested, but the article she’d spotted in the
Gazette
only mentioned the fact that Judith Mitchell had cancelled most of her official engagements while she looked after her grandchild. It all sounded very cosy and the reporter had clearly missed the whole point. Those women were lowering the tone of the area. She’d have to go to the house tomorrow and give them a piece of her mind.

She was just washing up a few things from her simple supper when she suddenly had a new thought. What she needed was irrefutable proof of lewd goings-on. Putting the plate away quickly, she found a small notebook in her bureau and glanced up at the clock. It was coming up for eight o’clock. Then she wrote the date followed by,
7.10 p.m., man lurking in driveway
, on the first page. Her eyes weren’t as good as they used to be, but then she remembered her late husband’s opera glasses and spent the next ten minutes searching for them. Then, taking a glass of sherry upstairs, she positioned her chair by the bay window and waited.