For Better For Worse. Pam Weaver
Sarah immediately understood why they called him Bear. He wasn’t fat and flabby, far from it. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, he had a warm smile and kind eyes. He was surprisingly softly spoken and he listened attentively as she told him about Henry. He took everything down and when he’d finished, he said, ‘We would want you to say all this in court. You will come, won’t you?’ Sarah hesitated. ‘If it’s transport that’s the problem, I can arrange that for you,’ he said kindly. ‘And should you need to employ someone to care for your children, that can be arranged as well.’
He saw Sarah to the door and they shook hands once again. Bear watched her as she hurried down the street towards the school.
‘Everything all right?’ the desk sergeant asked.
Bear shook his head. ‘Things will never be the same for her, poor girl, and there’s something about that Henry Royale that sticks in my craw. Something’s not quite right.’
‘You can say that again,’ chuckled the desk sergeant. ‘Looks like he’s already married half the bloody county.’
‘It’s more than that,’ said Bear, turning to leave. There was a frown on his face. ‘But don’t you worry. I’ll find out what it is and then I’ll have him.’
*
The rest of the mothers were already waiting and the teacher had sent the children to meet them as Sarah reached the school gates. Jenny came running towards her holding a piece of paper in the air and with her cardigan only on by one sleeve.
‘I drew you a picture, Mummy,’ she cried happily.
Sarah smiled at the drawing as she put her daughter’s arm back into the sleeve and gave her a kiss. Her plaits were untidy and she was missing a ribbon. ‘It’s in my pocket,’ Jenny said as Sarah waved the bare plait in front of her nose.
As she stood up, Sarah suddenly felt her elbow being held in a vice-like grip. ‘I need to talk to you,’ her sister Vera hissed in her ear.
‘I have to get back …’ Sarah began.
‘It won’t take a minute,’ Vera insisted. She pulled Lu-Lu’s pram into a corner of the playground and slapped a newspaper into Sarah’s hand. ‘What have you done?’
Sarah didn’t need to look at the article to know what it was about. Worthing man on theft and bigamy charges.
‘What have I done?’ said Sarah, snatching her elbow away. ‘I did nothing except marry someone who apparently wasn’t free to marry.’
‘Bill isn’t happy about this being in the paper,’ Vera went on crossly. ‘You need to get it cleared up quickly.’
‘Vera … it’s not my fault.’
‘How could you?’ Vera spat. ‘Dragging the family name through the mud.’
‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,’ said Sarah. Jenny and Carole were playing tag and thankfully out of earshot. Lu-Lu sat bolt upright in her pram sucking her thumb and twiddling her hair, obviously concerned by the tone of their conversation. Sarah caressed her daughter’s cheek and smiled, while inwardly thanking God she didn’t understand what was being said. ‘This is none of my doing.’
‘You must have told the police about him. Why didn’t you tell Bill and let us deal with it in the family?’
‘Actually,’ Sarah said deliberately. ‘I wasn’t the one who reported him and I’ve only just been to the police station to tell them that I’m his wife as well.’
‘What do you mean as well? Are you saying there’s more than two of you?’
‘Apparently,’ said Sarah.
Vera took in her breath. ‘Bloody hell, Sarah.’
‘I have to go to court,’ Sarah went on. ‘I may not have to testify but I have to be there.’
‘When?’
‘Three weeks.’
Her sister looked thoughtful. ‘Well, it’s a good thing we don’t share the same surname anymore, but I don’t know what Bill is going to say about all this.’
Sarah felt her cheeks flame, but she resisted the temptation to hit her. Her sister had always been self-centred, but now she was being crass. Where was the sympathy; the concern? ‘I need someone to look after Jenny and Lu-Lu while I go.’
‘I don’t think …’ Vera began.
‘The court will pay a small fee to whoever looks after them for me.’
Vera hesitated. ‘All right, I’ll talk to Bill about it,’ she said, ‘but for goodness’ sake, keep away from any newspaper reporters.’
*
It was raining hard when Annie got home. She had been glad to be in her parent’s car. She would have been soaked had she caught the bus and had to walk from the bus stop. What a terrible day. Her relief when she saw her parents in the foyer of the police station was enormous, but the explanations as to why they were there had to wait. Her father was anxious to get her back home to Worthing, but before setting out on the twenty mile journey, they took her back to the home she and Henry shared first. While they waited in the sitting room, Annie packed her suitcase.
It was then that the full import of her predicament slowly dawned. If what they said was true, then she wasn’t married, and what was worse, through no fault of her own, she was an unmarried mother. She had been horribly deceived. In one fell swoop, she had lost her identity, her status in life and probably her lovely home as well. She had agreed to go back to her childhood home for a bit, but now she was wondering how could she possibly manage to come back to Horsham without the support of a husband? She would lose this house and all the furnishings she had made. Ever since that night when the police came, she had clung to a flimsy belief that maybe, just maybe, there had been a ghastly mistake, but faced with the evidence they’d put before her, Annie had a sinking feeling that it was all true.
Her mother had appeared in the doorway and offered her some help.
‘Take as much as you can, dear,’ she had said quietly. ‘You won’t be coming back here, will you.’
Their eyes met and Annie had felt her throat tighten as another thought drifted into her mind. She’d have to face everybody in Worthing. What was she going to say to her friends? Her hand rested on her bump. If only she wasn’t pregnant, she could start over again quite easily. Now that she had a baby growing inside of her, everything was changed. She would have a miserable time for a while, but hopefully with a bit of help she could get her life back on track eventually. ‘Oh Mum,’ she’d mumbled sadly.
‘I know, I know,’ said her mother, holding out her arms to her.
‘Hurry up, you two. We haven’t got all day,’ her father shouted up the stairs, startling Annie and her mother into action again. All her clothes were in the suitcases her mother carried and as Annie had left the bedroom she picked up the case containing the baby’s layette.
‘What’s that?’ said her father as he took the case from her at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Baby clothes,’ said Annie.
‘Well, you can leave them behind,’ he said gruffly. ‘You won’t be keeping it, will you.’
For a second, Annie was taken aback. She didn’t want her baby dismissed so lightly. It made her feel uncomfortable. And she certainly wasn’t going to give him up. She must have looked startled because her mother’s expression softened.
‘Even if she isn’t keeping it, Malcolm,’ she’d said, ‘the clothes might come in useful for whoever has him.’
Her parents walked on ahead as Annie stood in the small hallway for the last time. She was exhausted and drained. More than anything, she wanted to get away because this home