An Uncertain Heart

by June Tate

  An ambulance was called and the body removed. Helen was overcome with grief and was comforted by those who understood how close she was to the great man. She was handed a glass of water and a handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

  Eventually her sobs subsided and she sat, absolutely stunned by what had just happened, unable to believe that, in a second, one so vibrant could have been taken. There was a silent buzz among those who had been so enthralled by Richard’s presence and were equally as shocked at his demise. They slowly began to filter out of the room.

  One of the surgeons stayed with Helen until she recovered.

  ‘Is there anything I can do for you, my dear?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but no. I just have to call my husband and then I’ll go to the station and get a train to take me home, but thank you for your kindness.’

  He patted her hand and walked away, leaving Helen to call James and tell him what had happened, then she packed her bag and made her way to the station.

  Helen sat on the train gazing out at the passing scenery, but seeing nothing. She was still stunned by Richard’s sudden demise. One moment he’d been responding to applause then minutes later he was gone. She thought over their earlier conversation, remembering his words and felt at least some comfort from the fact that she’d brought him a modicum of happiness during their time together. He had taught her so much in the operating theatre and he would always be an important part of her life. But how sad that his final days had not been happy. She wondered what his wife would feel when she heard the news.

  In a small village in Essex, Mr and Mrs Bradshaw were sitting listening to the one o’clock news when an unexpected announcement was made by the newsreader.

  Sir Richard Carson, the eminent surgeon, suffered a severe heart attack today after giving a talk at a seminar in London. He was taken by ambulance to a nearby hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Ann let out a cry as she heard the news. Clive sitting beside her was shocked into silence.

  ‘I must go back to London,’ said Ann, getting to her feet.

  ‘Whatever for? You left the house and him, why do you have to return?’

  ‘No one knows we’ve parted,’ she said. ‘As far as anyone is concerned we’re still together. Now is not the time for any gossip. Besides, by law, I’m still Lady Carson, his wife.’

  ‘But if you return, people here will know who you really are!’

  ‘I can’t worry about that. This is a small village, it’ll be a seven-day wonder. But there will have to be a funeral. I have to be there as his wife, surely you can see that?’

  ‘No, Ann, I’m sorry he’s gone but I thought we had started a new life – that all the other was behind us.’

  ‘We’ll have to talk about this later. I have a funeral to arrange. I’ll take a few clothes and catch a train this afternoon. They must wonder where I am. I have to go and now.’

  As Ann arrived at the house in London, letting herself in with a spare key that she’d kept, she could hear the telephone ringing. She ran to pick up the receiver before the caller hung up. It was a colleague of Richard’s on the line.

  ‘Ann! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I was visiting friends when I heard the news, I’ve just walked in the door.’

  He told her what had happened. ‘There will have to be a post-mortem, but it’s pretty straightforward. Richard suffered a severe heart attack. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, he was a great man. If you like, I’ll come over tomorrow and help you with all the arrangements, that’s if you want me to.’

  She gladly accepted. There would be so much to do. Alone it would be just too much. She replaced the receiver, poured a large gin and tonic and, kicking off her shoes, sank onto the sofa. She looked around at the familiar room, happy to see everything was as it used to be, that it was clean and tidy as was usual. The last time she sat here was just before she left to live with Clive, thinking she would only return to collect the rest of her things, which she had done one day when Richard was working – and here she was back again. It was only then that Richard’s death really began to sink in. In her rush she’d had no time to think, but now the enormity of his death became a reality. Never again would he walk through the door of the house. Then she slowly began to think of the many things she’d have to do.

  She’d have to clear his clothes, go through his desk – well his colleague could do that tomorrow, he’d know what to do with all the papers and files. There would be the death certificate after the autopsy. The funeral to be booked, hymns chosen. Her head was reeling.

  Then she thought, I suppose this house is mine now, and immediately felt more cheerful. As his wife, of course, she’d inherit everything. She knew that was in Richard’s will as they had made their wills together. She’d be a wealthy woman. She tried not to feel too pleased about that – after all, the poor man was hardly cold. It didn’t seem right … nevertheless!

  Two weeks later the funeral of Sir Richard Carson took place. Ann, dressed in black and widow’s weeds, followed the hearse in a black car to the church. There was a large crowd outside who were silent and respectful as she walked to the door and entered. As she made her way to the family pew, she was amazed to see that the church was packed, with people having to stand at the back. She straightened up as she walked, knowing that all eyes were upon her.

  Helen, standing with James and some of her colleagues in a pew near the front, watched Ann with interest, knowing that she and Richard had parted, although as far as she could tell it wasn’t common knowledge, and the way Lady Carson was walking, with a definite air, it would seem that was still the case.

  It was a full service and at the end the vicar announced that a reception would be held at a nearby hotel and all would be welcome. It took some time to filter out of the church. Ann Carson was standing thanking those who stopped to talk. Helen would have liked to walk past her but it would have looked rude so she stood waiting her turn. But as Ann recognised her and looked at her with such an imperious air, Helen couldn’t help herself. As she said how sorry she was she lowered her voice:

  ‘I had a drink with Richard the night before he died,’ she said. ‘How nice of you to turn up today.’ Then she walked away.

  She and James went to a restaurant after the service. Helen couldn’t face going on to the hotel and listening to everyone exchanging stories about their time with Richard, she felt too sad about his passing for that. She wanted just to be with her husband and enjoy a meal before returning to the Cotswolds, their home and Rebecca.

  Lady Carson, however, was in a strange way enjoying her husband’s wake. It was obvious that not a soul knew that they had parted and for that she was more than grateful. After all, she owed much to him and his position and she was happy that his name wasn’t being besmirched in any way at his funeral. She was again enjoying the slightly deferential treatment she was getting. It made her feel good. Richard’s solicitor was also there and he asked if she could go to his office the next morning as he wanted to read the will and set the wheels in motion.

  ‘I always think it’s best to get things over with as soon as possible, don’t you, Lady Carson?’

  ‘Yes I do,’ she said. ‘Eleven o’clock be alright?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll see you then. My condolences, of course.’

  That night, Ann returned to the house, but she slept in the spare room. She had looked at the bed that she and Richard used to share, but couldn’t bring herself to use it.

  The next morning, Ann made her way to the solicitor’s office, wondering just what was the value of Richard’s estate? There was the house and the flat in Chelsea too. In monetary terms … she had no idea, but it would be some considerable sum, she was certain.

  On her arrival, she was ushered into the man’s office and offered a cup of coffee, which she accepted.

  Then the solicitor began, ‘“I, Richard Ellis
—”’

  Ann interrupted. ‘Can we skip all the frippery bits and just get to the content, please?’

  ‘Yes of course,’ he said and then continued. ‘There are one or two bequests first of all. “I leave three thousand pounds to The Royal British Legion that has just been formed, to help servicemen in dire need. These men served their country well and I wish to help them.”’

  Ann nodded her agreement, although she was surprised at the amount of money donated.

  ‘“Fifty pounds each to my cook and cleaner, who have looked after me well” – I have their names and addresses. “My house in Knightsbridge,”’ Ann sat up straighter and smiled in anticipation, ‘“and the contents are to be sold, the money to be added to my estate.”’

  ‘But he can’t do that,’ she protested, ‘that’s my house!’

  The solicitor ignored her outburst and carried on. ‘“To Ann Carson, who left our marital home to live with Mr Clive Bradshaw and therefore removed herself from our marriage, I leave one hundred pounds each month, just to ensure that whatever happens to her in the future, she won’t be without funds.”’

  Enraged, Ann glared at the solicitor. ‘And that’s it? Is that all that he left me?’

  ‘There are other bequests but as far as you are concerned, that’s it. Sir Richard made a new will a few weeks ago. He said his situation had changed and therefore so had his will. I’m sorry, Lady Carson, but I must ask you to hand over your keys to the house.’

  Ann’s eyes narrowed. ‘What about the flat in Chelsea?’

  The solicitor read from the will. ‘“My Chelsea apartment is left to my colleague Dr Ronald Gibbs, who has worked faithfully beside me for many years.”’

  ‘So who inherits his estate?’

  The solicitor read on. ‘“The rest of my estate I leave to Helen Havers of Cherry Tree Farm, Beckford, Near Cheltenham, Gloucester. She worked beside me as my theatre sister during horrendous times throughout the war and it’s my way of thanking her.”’

  ‘What!’ Ann was livid. ‘That bloody woman, she keeps cropping up in my marriage.’

  ‘Forgive me for saying so, Lady Carson, but your marriage is over and I believe has been for a little while.’

  She glared at him. ‘I will contest this will. I’ll go to court. After all, I am Lady Carson, his wife. I am entitled to more than he’s left me.’

  ‘You can do so, of course.’ He took some papers out of his drawer. ‘But if you do, I’d have to inform the court that Sir Richard had started divorce proceedings.’

  ‘He what?’ Ann went cold.

  He held the papers aloft. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. But at least you’ve been spared that. The newspapers would have had a heyday when they got to hear about it, with Richard being so well known. No lady wants to be tagged a scarlet woman, do they?’

  She glared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘At the moment your good character is unblemished as far as the public are aware, Lady Carson. After probate has been settled and a decent time has passed, you are a free woman to wed whom you wish without any whiff of scandal. But if you insist on contesting the will, that would be very different. Everything would be out in the open – in detail.’

  She was beaten, she knew that, but it was a bitter pill to swallow. She had planned for Clive to move into the house in Knightsbridge with her and for them eventually to marry. After all, she would be a wealthy woman, she had thought, but Richard had made sure she had paid the price for her infidelity. She rose from her chair.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Long. When will the first payment be paid into my account?’

  ‘At the end of the first month after the probate has been settled.’

  As she left the office, Ann was devastated. She had thought she was to be told she had inherited Richard’s considerable wealth as well as his property. She had envisaged she and Clive, living the good life, back in her beautiful house, dining out as she’d done as Richard’s wife in all the best restaurants, going to the theatre, enjoying the luxuries money could buy. But no. Richard had taken his pound of flesh and she would have to accept it.

  But as Ann sat on the train back to her far more simple life in Essex, she couldn’t help but think of what might have been, and now she’d have to face Clive’s displeasure at her flying off to London to preside over her husband’s funeral.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Helen was surprised when, a week after the funeral, she received a phone call from Peter Long, Richard’s solicitor, asking if he could come and see her as she’d been a beneficiary in Richard’s will. They arranged a day the following week when she’d be at home.

  When she told James about it, he was pleased for her.

  ‘That’s really nice of him to remember you, darling. After all, you worked together for some considerable time. It’s his way of thanking you.’

  Helen was pleased that James refrained from mentioning her close relationship with Richard. He’d eventually managed to put that behind him. But she was flattered to be remembered by Richard. That was kind of him, she thought.

  Peter Long arrived just after lunch, and at Helen’s invitation, joined them for a cup of coffee, before James took Rebecca with him to the stables, leaving Helen with the solicitor in the living room.

  ‘Sir Richard made me the executor of his will,’ Peter explained, ‘and of course it will be some time before probate will be granted as there is a property to be sold, but Sir Richard made you his main beneficiary and as there is a considerable amount of money involved, I thought I should come and see you.’

  Helen was stunned. ‘His main beneficiary?’

  Peter nodded. ‘Yes.’ He read from the will to help convince her.

  ‘What about his wife?’

  ‘It wasn’t known, but she was now living with another man. Richard has left her a small amount to be paid monthly, but there was no longer a marriage. In fact, he’d started divorce proceedings.’

  ‘Yes, I did know she’d left, he told me. I was at the lecture when he died. We’d had a drink together the previous evening.’

  ‘I didn’t know that. It must have been a dreadful experience for you.’

  ‘For everyone – it was so sudden. One minute he’d been talking, the next he collapsed and died.’

  ‘Now, I’d better tell you what is involved here, Mrs Havers.’

  ‘Helen, please.’

  ‘Well, Helen, his house in Knightsbridge is to be sold. The proceeds, after any outstanding bills, to be added to the estate. It should be a considerable sum. All together, we estimate somewhere around this figure.’ He handed her a printed paper.

  Helen gasped when she looked at the bottom line. ‘But this is a small fortune!’

  Peter beamed at her. ‘Indeed it is. Congratulations!’

  ‘Oh my goodness, I don’t know what to say.’

  Getting to his feet, Peter said, ‘I suggest you share the news with your husband as I have another appointment and must leave. It was lovely to meet you, Helen. I’ll be in touch.’

  After she’d shown him out, she went rushing off to the stables and found James on the ground, playing with Rebecca. She ran over to him and held out the piece of paper Peter had handed her.

  James looked at it and frowned. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘That’s an estimate of what my inheritance from Richard will be.’

  He looked at the paper again. ‘Bloody hell! Are you certain?’

  ‘Apparently there is Richard’s house in Knightsbridge to sell first, apart from anything else. This is what they think will be the total amount.’

  ‘What about his wife?’

  ‘She’d left him for another man and he was about to divorce her. He left her a small monthly payment, that’s all. I was his main beneficiary. I can’t quite believe it. In the will it said it was to thank me for working with him during the war in horrendous times.’

  ‘Well you did and it was. This is your reward, Helen. He was given a knighthood – this is your decoration
for working beside him during the war!’

  ‘But it’s a small fortune!’

  ‘You will be a wealthy woman in your own right.’ He grinned at her. ‘You won’t leave me will you, now you’re a woman of means?’

  She put her arms around him. ‘As if I would ever leave you, you idiot!’

  ‘What will you do with the money?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’ll have to give it some considerable thought. It would be nice to put it to some good use. Come on, let’s open a bottle of champagne and celebrate.’

  James picked up Rebecca. ‘Your mother is an heiress, how about that?’

  The child chuckled, clapped her hands and chatted away in her own baby language.

  ‘There! Rebecca’s thrilled for you.’

  But when Ann Carson returned to the village in Essex and Clive, she was far from being thrilled with the news she was about to impart. She was also uncertain of the reception she’d receive from Clive, who had not been pleased with her sudden departure to oversee Richard’s funeral.

  She opened the front door and walked into the living room where she saw Clive reading the newspaper. He looked up at her, folded his paper and waited for her to speak.

  ‘Hello,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I’m back.’

  ‘So I see. I wondered if you would decide to stay in London and reconvene your life as the recently widowed Lady Carson!’

  She tried to ignore the sarcasm in his tone. ‘As you can see, I didn’t.’

  ‘I have to confess, I’m surprised after your dash to maintain your position as Richard’s wife.’

  ‘But don’t you see, I had no choice. No one as yet knows we had parted. I couldn’t let his funeral be marred by any scandal. That wouldn’t have been right. That much I owed him!’