Читать книгу For Better For Worse - Pam Weaver - Страница 9

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 sitting room. You’ll be going to bed soon I expect.’

Her neighbour left the room and Annie looked up. The clock was already ticking its way towards 9.30 p.m. She blew her nose and sipped her tea. A few minutes later, Mrs Holborn was back with a hot-water bottle. Annie watched as she emptied it out and refilled it with hot water.

‘I’m sure everything will come right in the end,’ said Mrs Holborn. ‘Your Henry is a good man.’

‘A woman came to the house,’ Annie began.

‘That woman we both saw in the street?’

‘No, a different one,’ said Annie. ‘She said Henry was her husband.’

‘Her husband?’ cried Mrs Holborn. ‘Well, that can’t be right, can it? Didn’t you tell me you were married in the registry office?’

Annie nodded.

‘Well then,’ said Mrs Holborn. ‘She’s made a mistake. I shouldn’t worry, dear. The police will soon sort it out and he’ll be back home before you know it. I’ll just pop this hot-water bottle in your bed for you.’

Annie listened to Mrs Holborn climbing the stairs. The baby moved and she rubbed her stomach. What if Henry really was still married to someone else? Her baby would be illegitimate, wouldn’t it? Her throat tightened. She was an honest woman. She’d been a virgin on her wedding night. Henry was experienced, but then you expected that, didn’t you? Young men and their wild oats and all that … But he wouldn’t have deceived her about something as important as having another wife, would he? Would he? Supposing he was still married? That would make her an adulteress, wouldn’t it? If she’d broken the seventh commandment and she didn’t know, would that still make her a sinner? He’d told the police he’d got a divorce. Annie never even knew he’d been married before. Why hadn’t he told her? That wasn’t the sort of thing a husband should keep from his wife.

Mrs Holborn was back. She looked tired and drawn.

‘How is your husband?’ Annie asked.

‘I’m going back first thing in the morning,’ she said grimly. ‘They tell me it’s only a matter of days.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Annie, catching her neighbour’s hand.

Mrs Holborn squeezed her hand back. ‘Don’t you go worrying about me. We’ve had a good innings, Oswald and me. All good things come to an end.’ As she spoke, her face coloured and she looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, dear. Me and my big mouth. Now it’s my turn to be sorry.’

‘Do you think I should telephone the police station?’

‘Leave it until the morning, dear. I’m sure they won’t tell you anything you don’t already know.’

*

As Peter Millward drove her and the girls home, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking. In truth, she’d wished she was still in the kitchen when the police had knocked on Henry’s door. How she would have loved to see his smug face change when they’d arrested him. What on earth had he done? If she could have had anything to do with it, she would have enjoyed pointing the finger and watching him squirm. How could he have left her and the kids like that? She was at her wit’s end. Someone in the pub had told her that if a person was missing for seven years they could be declared dead. But he wasn’t dead, was he? He’d walked out of all their lives, taking everything portable with him and, somehow, Sarah had struggled on. Seeing the lovely house where Henry lived made it even harder to keep a lid on her anger. She and the girls managed in one room and a bedroom upstairs and a poky little kitchen which she had to share with the tenant downstairs. They had an outside lavvy while the rat who’d put her in this position lived in a three-bedroomed house with its own little garden.

Henry had once accused her of being dippy and said that she wouldn’t be able to cope without him. Well, she’d proved him wrong, hadn’t she? She may not have such a grand house, but she’d kept a roof over their heads and the girls knew they were loved.

‘I take it that it didn’t go well,’ said Peter cautiously.

‘It didn’t,’ Sarah said. The only sound in the lorry was the hum of the engine.

‘I won’t pry,’ he said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road, ‘but just to let you know, if ever you want to talk …’

‘Thank you, Mr Millward,’ she said stiffly. ‘You’re a kind man.’

‘Peter, please.’

‘Peter,’ she said shyly.

And with that, he left her to her own thoughts for the rest of the journey. The minute Henry had pushed her and the girls out of the door, Sarah’s hopes and dreams had been finally dashed. In her haste to get away, she had tripped over a metal bath full of washing and fallen onto the path. Poor little Jenny was distraught. Sarah had hauled herself to her feet and, ignoring the graze on her leg, limped away, her only thought to get her children as far away from Henry as possible. For the first time since it happened, she became aware of a throbbing in her leg. She glanced down and in the headlights of a passing car, she caught sight of a dark stain creeping down her leg. Her stocking was shredded.

‘Do you need to stop and sort that leg out?’ said Peter.

‘No, I’ll be all right,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll wait until I get home.’

Jenny had already leaned into her mother’s side and promptly fallen asleep. Lu-Lu was dead to the world in her arms and although Sarah was dog-tired, she couldn’t sleep. Her brain was racing. Lu-Lu was far too young to understand, but how would her gentle Jenny survive knowing that the daddy she adored had no time for her now? How could he be so heartless and cruel? Sarah kissed the top of her daughter’s neatly plaited head. ‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ she whispered to her sleeping child. ‘From now on, I promise to protect you. He may not want you, but Mummy loves you to bits.’ And, she thought to herself, Mummy will never let you down.

*

Mrs Holborn left soon after she’d put the hot-water bottle in the bed, making Annie promise to lock the door when she’d gone. The suitcase stood accusingly in the hallway as Annie wearily climbed the stairs. She would unpack it in the morning. As she undressed and crawled into bed, she wondered vaguely where Henry had been planning to take her. She turned out the lamp. It was lovely and warm between the sheets but already she missed Henry’s bulk beside her. Oh Henry … where are you now? They must let you come home soon. Her silent tears were making her pillow damp. She turned it over and closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. Her mind wouldn’t stop going over and over what had happened. When she finally drifted away, her last thought was of him. I need you, Henry. I simply can’t have this baby on my own.