Читать книгу For Better For Worse - Pam Weaver - Страница 11

Annie stared at her reflection in the mirror and sighed. Her cheeks were pale and her lipstick reduced to a fading thin line. She took out her compact and began to repair the damage. This wasn’t what she’d planned at all. Until two days ago, she’d never even been in a police station before and now here she was waiting to be ‘interviewed’ again.

They’d made her tip everything out of her handbag, and then she’d watched them picking through her lipstick, powder compact, her purse, the wedding certificate and the brooch. They took the brooch and they’d already taken her bank book earlier on. Having put on her lipstick, she rubbed her lips together and wondered how much she should tell them.

Having stared at it for several days, she had managed to get the drawer open earlier that morning, but the wood had split when she’d levered it away from the lock. She’d gasped in horror knowing that Henry would be very cross, but once she’d calmed down, she’d told herself it couldn’t be helped. Her hand had trembled, and after all that effort, the results were disappointing. The contents of the drawer looked a bit dull. Would the police be interested to know about the papers and the photographs? As she’d sifted through everything, the milkman had clinked the milk bottles outside the back door and she’d almost jumped out of her skin. She’d felt like a thief, but then she remembered Henry saying, ‘what’s mine is yours,’ and relaxed a little. Of course, he only said that when they were in bed together, and she knew he didn’t mean she could take his personal things when they had married, but hadn’t he promised ‘all my worldly goods I thee endow’? When her heartbeat had returned to normal, she’d lowered herself onto a chair and spread everything over the table.

There was a pretty amethyst brooch in the shape of a flower. It was in a blue box, the kind her father used in the shop. Henry must have been saving it for her for when the baby came.

The papers were completely incomprehensible, a neatly folded pile which looked as if she’d need the services of someone like Mr West to decipher them. There was one marked Southern Rhodesia Tobacco Company, which looked like it had something to do with shares belonging to Grenville Hartley. She also found a life policy in her name with the SunRise assurance company, the house insurance and her wedding certificate. She had known about the SunRise assurance company because the man came once a month for the premium.

The photographs were of Henry with another woman. Should she tell the police about that? Henry was much younger and in swimming trunks. He stood next to the woman who was wearing a one-piece bathing suit. She had a long cigarette holder in her hand and her hair was tied up in a white turban. She seemed vaguely familiar although Annie knew she’d never met her. Perhaps she was a film star? She certainly could have passed for one with her slim figure and long legs. Annie didn’t recognise the beach but it looked hot and sunny. They were both laughing and looked so happy that Annie couldn’t help feeling a little jealous, but she would keep that to herself no matter what. The other photographs were of people unknown to her; a man in a deck-lounger in a field and another of Henry standing next to the same man with the woman, this time without her turban. There was something written in pencil on the back of one of the photographs. ‘Priory Road, Chichester, August 1927.’ Having looked at them for some time, Annie decided that the unknown man was probably the woman’s husband and that they were friends of Henry’s from before she knew him.

Annie remembered feeling uncomfortable and a little bit angry as well. This was a part of Henry’s life that she knew absolutely nothing about. Who were these people? Had they died in the war? Were they relatives or just friends? Why hadn’t he told her about them? Pushing the photographs back into a pile, she’d wiped a renegade tear away from her cheek and stood up. The bank book had been a pleasant surprise. It was in their joint names and there was a healthy £500/14/6 in the account. £500! She couldn’t believe her luck. This, she had felt sure, would keep her very well until Henry was released. Of course, she would use it frugally, but it did mean she could travel to Lewes by train to see Henry as often as she wanted. A wave of relief had swept over her. Everything was going to be all right after all.

Considering that the lock on the drawer was already broken, she tucked the wedding certificate, the brooch and the bank book into her handbag for safekeeping and put everything else back into the drawer.

It didn’t take her long to get ready to go back into town. She had planned to take the wedding certificate to Mr West as soon as she had drawn some money from the bank. She’d never actually written a cheque before but she had seen her father do it hundreds of times. She’d handed it to the cashier who’d studied it for a few seconds and then stood up. ‘If you will excuse me Mrs Royal, I have to check something with the manager.’

Annie was puzzled. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, yes,’ the cashier assured her, ‘I won’t be a minute.’

He’d left the counter for a few minutes and came back with the bank manager. The manager was very polite as he asked her to step into his office. Annie thought it a little odd, but as they were both being so pleasant, she didn’t dream anything was amiss.

‘Is this your bank book?’ he’d asked. Annie sat opposite him at the desk.

‘Mine and my husband’s,’ Annie smiled pleasantly. ‘My husband has had to go away on business and I need a little cash.’

‘I see,’ said the manager. He was turning the book over and over in his hands. ‘I was a little concerned because the signature in the book and your signature are different.’

Annie returned his gaze. ‘My husband usually draws our money.’

‘This book hasn’t been used for ten years,’ said the manager, ‘and to be perfectly frank, I don’t believe it’s yours. You’ve stolen it.’

Annie leapt to her feet. ‘That’s not true!’ And at the same time a policeman walked into the office. The two men conferred together while she protested her innocence, but it was no use. She had been asked to accompany the policeman to the station, which was a few doors away and where she now waited. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. How much longer were they going to keep her here?

She replaced her compact and closed her handbag just as two men in plain clothes came into the room. They put a file onto the table.

‘My name is Detective Sergeant Hacker,’ said the first one, ‘and this is Detective Constable Green. I’m sure that in your present condition you don’t want to be here any longer than you have to, so I’ll get straight to the point.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Annie nodded.

‘Good,’ said DS Hacker. ‘So perhaps you would explain to me why you tried to access someone else’s account at the bank and how you came to have that brooch in your handbag.’

So Annie told them. She told them that Henry was on remand, and that he was innocent. ‘It’s all a terrible mistake,’ she said quickly as the policeman raised his eyebrow. She told them about his locked drawer and her desperate need of money. She told them about Mr West and that she had only gone to the bank to get two guineas for him and a few shillings for her own needs. She pointed out that the size of the cheque she had written was tantamount to proof of that. Wouldn’t she, she asked them, have written a cheque for the whole of the five hundred pounds had she been a thief? They listened without interruption until she sat back in the chair.

‘Umm,’ said DS Hacker, looking sceptical. ‘There’s only a couple of small problems with all that, Mrs Royal. The names on the bank book are for a Mr and Mrs Royale, spelt with an “e”, and the brooch has been reported stolen.’

*

Whenever Sarah saw Mrs Rivers now, the older woman hurried on her way without speaking to her. Sarah was deeply hurt. They had been such friends before. Nat seemed to enjoy creeping up behind her in the butchers or the pub and shouting ‘Boo!’ or something silly like that. If only she could do something about him. She was sure he was still knocking his mother about but she knew that until Mrs Rivers made a personal complaint, the police treated all such incidents as ‘domestic’.

One ray of sunshine in a series of dark days was the fact that Mr Lovett had secured several orders. The number and the timescale was a bit daunting – six romper suits and five dresses in a little under three weeks – but if he paid her as well as he had done before, Sarah would give it a go. However, she was shrewd enough not to show her excitement just yet.

‘I’ve no money for materials,’ she said. They were in Mrs Angel’s shop and there were no other customers because Mrs Angel had pulled down the blind for a few minutes so that they could speak in private.

‘Just tell Mrs Angel what you require and I’ll settle up with her later,’ he said.

The relief Sarah felt was palpable. If she could carry on with this, life would be so much easier for herself and the girls. All she had to do was get through the next few weeks on what little money she did have, although after seeing Henry’s lovely house, it galled her that she still had this perpetual struggle. It wasn’t right that she and the girls should be scrimping and scraping, barely able to keep body and soul together, while Henry and that trollop lived so well.

‘So,’ Mr Lovett beamed. He was holding out his hand. ‘Do we have a deal, Mrs Royal?’ Sarah put her hand in his and shook it warmly as he added, ‘Then I shall be back in the middle of the month.’

As soon as he’d gone, Sarah rushed around the counter to hug Mrs Angel.

‘No need for that, dear,’ said the old woman, stepping back, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. ‘I only did what anyone else would do.’

‘You did more than that,’ Sarah insisted. ‘You are the only person in the world who has offered me any practical help and I can never repay you for your kindness.’

‘No need to,’ said Mrs Angel, getting a couple of bolts of material down from the shelf. ‘I hardly like to ask, but how did you get on when you saw your husband?’

Sarah told her briefly what had happened and explained that, given what she had seen, she wanted to claim maintenance for the children.

‘You’ll have to get a solicitor to deal with that,’ said Mrs Angel.

‘And that takes money,’ said Sarah sourly.

‘You can apply for a legal certificate,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘That means you don’t have to pay. Would you like me to ask around? I shall be discreet.’

‘You’re very kind, Mrs Angel,’ said Sarah, ‘but I don’t want everybody knowing my business.’

Mrs Angel nodded sagely. ‘My dear, it’s already in the paper. Didn’t you know?’

Sarah’s mouth went dry. Mrs Angel went into the back room beyond her shop and came back with the Gazette. The front page was dominated by a story about a woman’s body being found near the pier, but Mrs Angel opened it to page five and pointed to a small paragraph headed ‘Worthing man remanded in custody.’ In the brief article, she read that Henry Arthur Royale had been remanded in custody to appear at Lewes Assizes on two charges, one of bigamy and another of theft. Sarah felt the colour drain from her face. She had blanked everything else out and had been so consumed by Henry’s reaction and the way he’d treated Jenny; but now things looked really bad. Henry really had married that girl and, to top it all, he was being accused of theft as well.

‘When he comes up before the judge,’ she said, ‘I need to be in court.’

‘Haven’t the police talked to you, dear?’ Sarah shook her head. ‘Then he must have been married to another woman,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘Don’t you see?’ she added as she saw Sarah’s puzzled frown. ‘Someone else has made a complaint.’

Sarah gasped. ‘You mean it’s not just me?’ She remembered the comment the desk sergeant had made when she rang the police.

‘If you make a complaint as well,’ said Mrs Angel, ‘they will get you to court.’

Armed with two yards of material and some embroidery silks, Sarah had plenty to think about as she walked back home. One thing was for sure. She would do as Mrs Angel suggested. She would report her marriage and go to court.

*

The detective who had interviewed Annie was terrifying. In his forties, and with a greasy, pockmarked face, he was very much a dominating force, aggressive and loud. Annie was respectful and did her best to field his questions, whilst at the same time, struggling not to cry.

‘Where did you get this bank book?’

‘I’ve already told you, from my husband’s drawer.’

‘You must have seen the name.’

‘I didn’t notice the “e” until you said.’

‘But it was obvious.’

‘I know. I can see that now, but I honestly didn’t notice at the time.’

‘Is your initial “K”?

‘No.’

‘Then you must have known the book didn’t belong to you.’

‘No … that is … Maybe I saw it but it didn’t really register. I was upset …’

He banged the book onto the table, making her jump. ‘I think you knew very well what you were doing, young lady,’ he shouted. ‘You saw a bank book with £500 pounds in it and you thought, Ah, I’ll have some of that.’

Annie was alarmed. ‘It wasn’t like that!’

‘So you passed yourself off as Mrs K Royale.’

‘No,’ Annie protested again. ‘I only wanted enough money to pay Mr West and to go and see my husband.’

‘But you haven’t got a husband, have you?’ he sneered. ‘I can see you are having a baby, but you’re not married. You’re living in sin.’

‘I am not!’ Annie cried indignantly. ‘How dare you say that! I am married and you’ve got my wedding certificate to prove it.’

The two men looked at each other, then DS Hacker closed his folder and stood up. ‘All right, Mrs Royal,’ he said. ‘For the moment we’re giving you the benefit of the doubt. We’re keeping the bank book, and the jeweller concerned doesn’t want to press charges, but remember that impersonation is a very serious offence. You are free to go.’

As they led her away from the poky little room and back to the entrance, Annie struggled not to give way to tears. She wasn’t going to give that horrible man the pleasure of seeing her break down, but when she reached the front desk all her plans went out of the window. A man and a woman stood up as she came through and the woman called her name. With a loud sob, Annie threw herself in her parents’ arms.