For Better For Worse. Pam Weaver
her with her coat and then she remembered the rice pudding still in the oven. ‘I have to turn the oven off.’
‘Leave it,’ he growled.
‘Don’t be silly, Henry,’ she said, hurrying back. ‘If I don’t turn it off we’ll burn the house down.’
She heard him opening the front door as she put on the oven gloves. A second later he came rushing through the kitchen, knocking her against the cooker as he went.
‘Mind the pudding!’ she cried as it slid from her gloved hands and onto the draining board. But Henry wasn’t listening. He’d flung open the back door and was charging out into the garden. He didn’t get far. Someone was standing in the shadows waiting for him. ‘Going somewhere, sir,’ said a man’s voice.
Annie gasped as a policeman walked her husband back into the kitchen. Henry looked around helplessly as another policeman came into the kitchen from the hallway.
‘What’s happened?’ Annie cried. ‘Is it my mother?’
‘Henry Arthur Royale,’ the policeman was saying, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of bigamy. You do not have to say anything …’
‘The bitch is lying,’ cried Henry. ‘I got a divorce.’
With a horrified sigh, Annie lowered herself onto a chair.
As soon as Sarah stumbled out onto the street, she was filled with remorse. What on earth had she been thinking of? When Vera told her she was unable to have the girls, she should have let it go. She should never have brought them to Horsham. They could be traumatised for life by what their father had just done to them. She still had Lu-Lu in her arms and Jenny was clinging to her skirts. They were all crying now and when she knelt on the pavement to put her arm around Jenny, the little girl was trembling.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered as she choked back her own tears. ‘Mummy is so sorry about what happened, but I want you to remember that Daddy is cross with Mummy, not with you. He didn’t mean it.’
Jenny looked at her, her eyes brimming. ‘But he called you a witch.’
‘It was a silly grown-up’s joke,’ she said in a measured tone. It cost her dearly, but Sarah was determined that her gentle and loving daughter wouldn’t be damaged any further. She had never once expected this sort of reaction from Henry, but she must have been mad to come, especially with the children.
To her surprise, a couple of minutes later, a police car drew up and several policemen got out. They went into Henry’s gate. Sarah hoiked Lu-Lu back onto her hip and took Jenny’s hand in hers. An expensive-looking car had also pulled up beside the pavement. The driver, a woman, seemed to be waiting for something but she didn’t get out.
‘Move along now if you please, madam,’ said a policeman coming up to Sarah. ‘This is no place for little ones.’
Sarah didn’t need any more persuasion. Whatever Henry was mixed up in, she was well out of it. Her only thought now was to get her children away from here.
As they hurried back along the street, Sarah turned her head to see the same policeman who had told her to move on leaning into the expensive car’s window. A few seconds later, the woman drove off.
Before long, as they waited on the corner for Mr Millward’s lorry, Jenny was swinging around the bus stop and Lu-Lu was giggling as she watched her big sister play. Sarah was grateful that she’d thought of bringing the baby reins. They gave Lu-Lu a little freedom but also kept her safe. In the distance, Sarah saw what looked like Henry being bundled into a big black car.
That girl in Henry’s kitchen had looked as fresh as a daisy and as innocent as a virgin, only she wasn’t a virgin, was she? She was pregnant. Before Sarah realised the girl’s condition, she had hated her without even knowing her. Now that Henry had been arrested, she was beginning to think there was something about the girl that reminded her of herself. It probably wasn’t her fault. He’d most likely lied to that girl in just the same way he’d lied to her. For a moment back there she’d felt … oh, she couldn’t put it into words … protective or something like that. She’d wanted to prepare the girl for what was to come. It wasn’t logical and her thinking was muddled. She certainly didn’t feel like that now. Because of that girl, everyone had been let down. Her friends, his friends, even the people where he’d worked. Sarah was both frustrated and angry. The silly trollop had ruined all their lives.
Jenny sidled up to her and leaned into her body. ‘Who was that lady in Daddy’s house, Mummy?’
Sarah smiled down at her eldest daughter. ‘Nobody important, darling.’
*
‘You all right, dear?’
Annie was still in her kitchen with the back door wide open. Her eyes were puffy and her throat was sore from crying. Henry was gone. Bewildered, she had followed him to the front door and watched the police take him away in a big black Humber, spitting feathers and using ugly swear words she’d never heard before.
‘Get me a solicitor,’ he’d bellowed as they’d pushed him onto the back seat of the car.
Her mind was in a whirl. Should she follow him to the police station? How would she get there? More to the point, where was it? If it was too far to walk, she’d have to go on the bus and it was gone eight o’clock. If they kept her at the police station for a long time, how would she get back home? She didn’t like the thought of being out at night on her own, especially in her present condition. He wouldn’t want her getting a taxi. Henry had always insisted taxis were a terrible waste of money.
She had returned to the kitchen and sat at the table doing her best to gather her thoughts. There must be a terrible mistake. That woman at the back door – Sarah was it? – seemed normal enough, but she had to be deluded. Either that or it was a case of mistaken identity. Henry probably reminded her of her lost husband. He must have said something, or walked the same way her husband walked, and the poor woman had convinced herself that he was the same man. Annie cast her mind back to the late summer of 1947 when she and Henry had first met and were strolling along a country lane. She’d caught sight of a girl with long red hair just up in front of her. From the back, the girl had looked just like Ellen Slattery and her heart had missed a beat. Annie had grown up with Ellen and knew her very well, but Ellen had been killed in an air raid in 1940. At the time, Annie hadn’t taken into account the fact that Ellen would have been five years older, and that when you lose someone, they stay in your memory exactly as when you last saw them. The woman who had knocked on her kitchen door must have done exactly the same thing. In the cold, hard light of day, surely she would realise her mistake?
‘Annie dear …’ Annie became aware that Mrs Holborn was standing over her. ‘I’ve made you a cup of tea. You look as if you could do with one.’
‘They took my Henry away,’ she said dully.
‘I know, dear,’ said Mrs Holborn. ‘I saw them taking him away as I got off the bus. I wasn’t sure if I should come in …’
Annie stared at the cup and saucer being pushed in front of her. ‘Where can I get a solicitor? He told me to get him a solicitor.’
‘I shouldn’t worry about that now, dear,’ Mrs Holborn soothed. ‘Plenty of time in the morning.’
‘Yes, but where would I find one?’ Annie persisted.
Mrs Holborn shrugged. ‘I’d ask the police when you go to see him tomorrow.’
Annie nodded dully and shivered.
‘Are you cold?’ asked Mrs Holborn. ‘I suppose you are. You had all the doors wide open. I’ll put the oven on and leave it open to warm the place up a bit.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘It’s a bit late to light the fire in the