by Kitty Neale
He plodded along, still unhappy that Joe had left so abruptly without saying goodbye. When he finally reached the station, he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Bloody hell, he thought, feeling its bulkiness and gawking when he saw the thick wedge of notes inside. Where had all that money come from? There was a letter stuffed in with it, and pulling it out, he found his answer. Joe had given it to him.
Scanning the note, his eyes widened. Joe admitted to reading his letter and realised that Arthur wanted to go home. He went on to say that he hadn’t come to Australia on an assisted passage, but had paid his own fare out of money he’d inherited from his grandparents. Unhappy with his home life because of a bad relationship with his father, the money had given him the freedom to travel and he had come to Australia for a good look round, with the intention that if he liked it, he would eventually buy a farm.
The breath left Arthur’s body with a whoosh. Bloody hell, what an idiot I’ve been, he thought. All the clues were there, but I didn’t see them. Joe never seemed short of money, his truck was almost new and must have cost a pretty penny. And I never even thought to ask him about it.
How could he accept all this money? But how could he find Joe to give it back? With no transport, Arthur soon realised that it would be impossible. Joe could be anywhere by now, and in a country this big, it would be hard to find him. Yes, he had said he was heading for Adelaide, but that didn’t mean he’d end up there. Many times they had been aiming for a place when Joe decided to veer off to somewhere else, just on a whim. He looked at the cash again. Joe had given him the opportunity to go home, and silently thanking his friend, he decided to take it.
He boarded the train, and after stowing his case, slumped in a seat. He should have read his mother’s letter before, and answered it. And why hadn’t he? Because he was too proud to admit that Jenny had made a fool of him, and too proud to admit that he had made a mistake. They had tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.
Should he try to find their telephone number, and tell them what had happened? No, he decided. It was too complicated a story and explanations could wait until he got home. For now he had this long train journey to face, and when he got to Sydney he had no idea how long it would take him to find a berth on a ship. Would he be able to make it home before Sally had the baby?
Chapter Forty
Sally found the following weeks somewhat surreal, and she felt that she was in some kind of crazy dream. Everything appeared to have gone topsy-turvy. Her mother’s attitude to her pregnancy had changed completely. Ruth was now excited about the baby, and talked about it endlessly when she came to visit.
Elsie had gone into a frenzy, buying a pram, cot and baby clothes, while Bert, instead of getting cross about her expenditure, just smiled indulgently as she showed him each new purchase. There was still no news of Arthur, and though Elsie tried to hide it, Sally knew she was desperately worried about him, guessing that shopping was, for her, some sort of compensation.
But now it was Ann who was acting hostile, hardly talking and avoiding her as much as possible. This had taken Sally by surprise; Ann was the one person she thought she could count on.
As she was thinking about her, the bedroom door opened and Ann herself walked in carrying a cup of tea. She plonked it on her bedside table. ‘Mum asked me to bring you this,’ she said coldly, turning swiftly to leave.
‘Ann, wait. Please, can’t we talk?’
Her friend spun around, her voice clipped. ‘It’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it? I can’t understand why you didn’t tell me, Sally.’
‘I couldn’t tell anyone – surely you can understand that.’
‘No, I can’t. I thought we were friends. And not only that, I think it’s awful that you kept it from us. He’s my brother, for God’s sake, and the baby you’re carrying will be my niece or nephew. How could you do it?’
‘Ann, I thought both you and your mum would hate me. I realised I loved Arthur before he left for Australia, and I think he loved me too, but when Jenny told me she was pregnant, what could I do? I know you and your mum would have wanted me to convince Arthur to stay, but I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not? If you love him, how could you let him go?’
Unbidden tears flooded her eyes. ‘Ann, I never had a father, and I’ve longed all my life to know what it’s like to have a father’s love. How could I inflict that on their innocent baby?’
There was a strained silence, then with a small sob Ann ran back across the room. ‘Oh Sally, I’m sorry. I’ve been so awful, I didn’t think,’ she cried, throwing herself onto the bed.
‘No, it’s me that’s sorry.’ Sally sniffed, struggling to pull herself together. ‘I realise now that I made a mistake, a big one. I should have told you all, should have trusted you.’
‘Looking back now I could kick myself,’ Ann said. ‘I remember thinking how strange you became leading up to Arthur’s departure, but I was stupid enough to think you were still upset about John. When you came out to say goodbye to him the day he was leaving for Australia, I was watching you from the back of the car. You looked awful, so white and drawn. Why didn’t I see it – why?’
‘Because you weren’t meant to. I knew you thought I was still upset about John, and I let you go on believing that.’
‘If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in Billy, I might have worked it out. I can’t believe I accepted it when you said you didn’t know who the father was. I should have known better.’
‘Ann, please, can we just forget it now, get back to how things were between us?’
‘Yeah, of course. Anyway, how do you think “Auntie Ann” sounds?’
‘Great, and you’ll make a lovely auntie.’
‘And Arthur would make a lovely dad. Oh no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Me and my big mouth,’ Ann gasped. ‘Why do I keep doing that, speaking without thinking first! You’re upset enough as it is.’
‘It’s all right,’ Sally assured her, trying not to let Ann see how stricken she was. ‘As I told your mum, Jenny must have had her baby by now, so Arthur already has a child, and at least one baby will have its father.’
‘I don’t get it, Sally. Why doesn’t he write? And I’ll tell you something else: he knows you’re pregnant. I mentioned it in my letters and I think mum did too.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course, he doesn’t know it’s his though.’
Sally sank back onto her pillows. Arthur knows, she thought, he knows. Of course they would have told him – why hadn’t she thought of that? But would he work it out, or would he think she had met someone else? ‘Ann, have either of you written to Arthur again since you found out the baby’s his?’
‘No – well, at least I haven’t. I don’t know about Mum. Why do you ask?’
‘I just don’t know if we should tell him. Can you imagine how it will affect him, Ann?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, I think he has a right to know.’ Ann glanced at the clock. ‘Look, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go or I’ll be late for work. We’ll talk about it again when I come home.’
‘Yes, all right,’ Sally whispered distantly, her mind still on Arthur.
The following day Sally dressed slowly, frowning at her appearance in the mirror. I look awful, she thought, staring at her huge stomach and badly swollen legs. The doctor allowed her to get up now, but only if she rested as much as possible with her feet raised. He still wasn’t too happy with her condition, and though her blood pressure had gone down a bit, he was now talking about the dangers of eclampsia. There was a possibility that she would have to go into hospital, and to avoid that she made sure that she followed his instructions.
She made her way slowly downstairs, her hand held in the crook of her back. Aunt Mary would be here soon with Sheila and the children, and like her, they had been summoned to the inquest on Monday.
Just as she had taken a seat in the sitting room, with her legs up on a pouffe, the doorbell rang.
‘Hello, Sally. How are
you, my dear?’ Mary asked as she came into the room, Sheila and the children behind her.
‘I’m fine, Auntie. Linda, aren’t you coming to give me a kiss?’ she asked, holding out her arms.
Linda stepped forward, staring at Sally’s tummy. ‘You’re awfully fat,’ she said, making them all burst into laughter.
Bert came into the room, and as soon as Linda saw him she ran back behind her mother. Seeing her reaction, he quickly left again, returning with their latest acquisition, a basket of kittens courtesy of the cat that had adopted them soon after they moved in.
Unable to resist them Linda stepped forward, and with Daniel, was soon kneeling beside Bert on the floor, her fear of men temporarily forgotten as she gazed mesmerised at the tiny squirming bodies. Just then Treacle, the mother, turned up, pushing her way into the basket and lying on her side for the kittens to fight for a teat.
While Linda was distracted, Sheila sat beside Sally, talking quietly. ‘How do you feel about the inquest?’ she asked.
‘I dread going. I still feel so terribly guilty.’
‘Don’t be silly. You have nothing to feel guilty about.’
‘But if I hadn’t screamed, the police wouldn’t have been called.’
‘Oh, my dear, I’m glad they were. I can’t bear to think what might have happened otherwise. When Harry turned up at the house in Blackpool we were so frightened of him. He was like a different man, and I thought he was bordering on madness.’
‘Yes, I must admit I was terrified of him. He used to be so mild – how can someone change so much in such a short time?’
‘I don’t know. But if you’re feeling guilty, take a look at Linda. You saw the way she reacted to Bert. It will probably take years for her to get over her fear of men, if she ever can. I know it sounds an awful thing to say, but in a way I’m glad that Harry’s dead. At least he won’t be able to damage any more children.’
Sally sat quietly, thinking about what Sheila had said, and in some ways it did alleviate her guilt. She watched now as Bert picked up a kitten, Linda staring at him in wonderment as he placed it gently in her arms. But when he stood up, she reared back nervously, the kitten mewing as fear made her squeeze it too tightly. He tried to reassure her by bending down again, but Linda dropped the kitten, hastily scrambling back across the room to her mother.
Bert quietly left the room then, his face reflecting his sadness, and shortly afterwards Elsie came in carrying a tray, piled with an assortment of cakes and sandwiches. Daniel, who was still absorbed with the kittens, soon abandoned them when he saw the coconut pyramids.
Sally watched him as he eagerly took one, biting the cherry on the top off with relish, a small smile on her face. Then, turning to her Aunt Mary, she asked, ‘Are you going to stay in your flat now?’
‘Yes. It’s close to the Common which is nice for the children, and I’ll be able to keep my job on at the surgery.’
Sally nodded, her thoughts returning to the inquest, wondering what the procedure would be. She knew she would have to give evidence, and cringed at the prospect.
On Monday morning Sally climbed nervously into Bert’s car, Elsie beside her in the back as they made their way to the Coroner’s Court. On arrival they stared at the large building that looked forbidding, despite the sunlight that shone on the brick-faced edifice.
Bert left them to go inside while he went to park the car, and Sally stepped tentatively into the large entrance hall. She saw her aunt and Sheila perched on a long bench and quickly joined them, Elsie behind her.
‘When do we go in?’ she whispered.
‘We’re next,’ her aunt hissed back.
‘Why are you whispering?’ Elsie asked.
They smiled wryly at her, then a silence descended on them. Sally gazed around the hall. There were two policemen looking their way and she recognised them as the Constables who had been called out on the night of Harry’s death. She had to bend over slightly then, annoyed that she had indigestion again; all she had eaten for breakfast was some toast and marmalade.
‘Sally, sit down,’ Elsie ordered. ‘Honestly, I think this is disgusting. Here you are, nearly due to have your baby, and you’re called to attend this inquest. You should be resting, you know what the doctor said.’
‘I’m all right, please don’t fuss,’ she said, irritable with discomfort.
The hall then appeared to be filled with people, all making their way outside. ‘The last inquest must have finished so it won’t be long now,’ Elsie said.
It seemed an age before they were finally called in, and Sally, perspiring heavily, followed the others through the doors. She looked around in surprise; the place was nothing like she’d expected. It wasn’t like a courtroom at all. There were lines of wooden chairs, a desk at the far end, with another small table and a chair alongside it.
‘It’s different from what I expected,’ she whispered to Elsie.
‘It’s not a criminal court, that’s why.’
The room fell strangely silent as the coroner came in, most eyes on him as he took a seat behind the desk. Sally hardly noticed his entrance; she was too busy trying to get comfortable on the hard wooden chair, thinking that this was the worst bout of indigestion she’d ever had.
The proceedings began. They were there, they were told, to ascertain the cause of death of the deceased, Mr Harold Taylor. Sally tried to listen to the evidence, hoping it would distract her mind from the pain, but most of it washed over her.
The post-mortem results made her grimace. God, she had no idea that they even examined the contents of the stomach.
The policemen were called next, each giving their evidence clearly and concisely, but by now Sally was hardly listening. The perspiration was running off her, the indigestion gripping her tummy. It was only when her aunt gasped, that she pricked up her ears, listening to what the coroner was saying. ‘Yes, you say you saw Mr Taylor fall from the roof. But were you close enough to be sure that it was accidental?’
‘Yes, sir. I was only about three feet away at the time, and I clearly saw him lose his balance. He didn’t jump, I’m certain.’
Sally’s brow creased. Why was the coroner asking if it was an accident? Surely he didn’t think that Harry had deliberately – no, it didn’t bear thinking about. She winced as another pain shot through her abdomen, relieved when at last the policeman left the chair, and she was called to give her evidence.
She answered the questions; told them that Harry had threatened her, all the time just wishing it were over. The coroner was patient when she stumbled over some of her answers, and at one point asked her if she was all right.
At last he seemed satisfied and she returned to her seat, just managing to sit down as she was gripped by another sharp stab of pain. Hardly aware of anything else, she was relieved when the coroner finally announced his verdict.
‘I have heard the evidence that suggests the balance of Mr Taylor’s mind may have been affected in the time leading up to his death. However, I have listened to the account given by the police, and am satisfied that the deceased did not deliberately take his own life. I am therefore recording a verdict of Death by Misadventure.’
Sally heard the scraping of chairs, the rustle of paper, and then Elsie’s voice in her ear. ‘Come on, love, we can go now.’
She stood up, leaning forward slightly, trying to ease the pain.
‘Are you all right?’ Elsie asked anxiously.
‘Yes, it’s just a nasty bout of indigestion,’ Sally told her.
‘Oh dear, I remember suffering with that towards the end of my pregnancies too. Never mind, we’ll soon be home and I’ll give you a glass of liver salts.’
Sally smiled wanly, just glad to be sitting in the car again and away from the ordeal.
As soon as they arrived back in Wimbledon, Sally sank onto the sofa. Elsie brought her a glass of salts and she gulped it down, hoping it would relieve the pain.
‘Why don’t you go and lie down, love?’ Elsie urged.
‘You look worn out.’
‘Yes, I think I will,’ Sally told her, heaving herself up and groaning with the effort.
Sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking off her shoes, she held her back. God, it was aching. It must have been that uncomfortable chair in the Coroner’s Court that had caused it. Wet with perspiration, she pulled off her maternity dress and eased herself down on top of the blankets, closing her eyes. She tried to sleep, but it was impossible. Every time she felt herself drifting off, the pain in her back jerked her awake.
Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she sat up. The toilet, she needed the toilet. Clutching her stomach she waddled across the room and was about to open the door, when her waters broke. Without a shadow of doubt, she knew then that the baby was coming.
Opening the door and stepping onto the landing, she called, ‘Elsie! Elsie!’ as another wave of pain had her bending forward.
There was a flurry as Elsie ran up the stairs, smiling widely. ‘Well, it’s about time my grandchild decided to be born,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s get you back to bed and I’ll call the midwife.’
‘I’m sorry, Elsie. My waters broke all over your carpet,’ she told her, groaning as another contraction ripped through her stomach.
‘Sod the carpet,’ Elsie laughed. ‘Now then, have you timed the contractions?’
‘No, but I think they’re about every five minutes,’ she gasped as Elsie helped her back into bed.
‘I’m glad you decided to have the baby at home, I’ll be able to see it born. Now, are you all right while I pop down to the telephone?’
Sally nodded. ‘Don’t be long though, Elsie.’
‘I won’t, but I had better get the rubber sheet to put under you too.’
When Elsie returned, Sally had to get off the bed again while she pushed the protective sheet under the linen one. She sat in a chair, clutching her tummy. God, she had had no idea it would be as bad as this. It was excruciating.
