by Pam Weaver
While Kaye and Lottie ate their meal, Sarah put the children to bed and once the kitchen was cleared, she had the evening to herself. She settled down in the kitchen with her sewing.
‘You don’t have to be out here on your own,’ Kaye told her as she came out to see where she was.
Sarah thanked her and promised to be with them sometimes, but she asked for the freedom to choose.
‘Lottie is so much happier since you all came,’ Kaye smiled as she left her to it.
Fifteen
By the middle of December, Kaye realised she didn’t have time to go up to London to do her Christmas shopping so she made good use of Hubbard’s department store and the other shops in Worthing. She enjoyed buying things for others, and with a house full of people, Christmas this year promised to be great fun. Employing Sarah had been an absolute godsend. She had been living with them for a couple of weeks now and was so efficient and yet completely unflustered by what was going on around her. Aunt Charlotte was putting on weight and several times Kaye had heard her singing as she worked around the house. Sarah seemed to have the knack of making Lottie feel indispensable and yet she was never overtaxed by what she was asked to do. Lottie loved the girls and they were such good children. When Kaye occasionally took them out for a ride in the car, they were always polite and well-mannered.
Sarah had already been busy with the Christmas preparations too. Kaye recalled seeing a cake and some mince pies going into storage tins in the larder. The butcher had promised them a chicken, a minor miracle in itself considering the shortages in the country, and Lottie and the children had been busy making paper chains out of some old rolls of wallpaper and some glue. How Sarah had done all this on far less money than Mrs Pearce had spent was a mystery. Kaye’s grocer’s and the butcher’s bills had already dropped by a third and yet they were eating the best quality meat and a lot more vegetables.
They had already planned the day itself. St George’s church in the morning, Christmas dinner, and then they would all open the presents around the tree together. After that, she would accept an invitation for herself and Lottie to have drinks and an evening with friends, leaving Sarah and her children to enjoy the rest of the day on their own. It was going to be the best Christmas she’d had in a long time and she felt like a silly schoolgirl every time she thought about it.
Having spent time in the toy department, Kaye bought a nice doll for Jenny and a cuddly rabbit for her sister. For Lottie she had bought a wristwatch, a puzzle and some smellies for the bath. Buying for Sarah proved to be a little more difficult. It would be all too easy to overstep the mark. Sarah was turning out to be a dear girl, but she was still her employee. Kaye couldn’t make up her mind between a day dress (Sarah had few nice things), or a coat (hers was threadbare), or something much smaller. Frustration got the better of her, so she decided to have a cup of tea instead.
She sat near the window and watched the crowds of shoppers down below. It was raining, but the crowds were sheltered by the huge canvas canopies in front of almost every shop. People hurried across the road and got on buses, their arms laden with parcels.
The restaurant was emptying. Another hour and the shop would close. The waitress brought her tea and as she looked up, Kaye saw someone she recognised across the room. She couldn’t remember the name but she remembered her face.
‘Good afternoon,’ she smiled over the tables between them. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name but you’re Annie’s mother, aren’t you?’
Judith Mitchell looked startled, but she was polite enough to return Kaye’s greeting.
‘Won’t you please join me?’
The waitress had just arrived and, looking straight at Judith, pulled out the chair. Judith had it in mind to decline but thought better of it, and a second later, she was sitting at Kaye’s table.
‘Better make that tea and cakes for two,’ said Kaye, and as the waitress left them, she put out her hand. ‘Kaye Royale.’
‘Judith Mitchell.’ They shook hands and for a while they made only small talk.
Judith appeared to be troubled by something. ‘Didn’t I see you at the public inquiry?’
‘Did you?’ said Kaye. ‘I was there but I must have missed you.’ Kaye had gone to the meeting in the Assembly Hall where the Borough Council had put forward a proposal to pull down the large Regency house on the seafront. Under new government legislation, and the newly formed Town and Country Planning Act, the people of Worthing had to be consulted before Beach House, as it was called, was demolished and a swimming pool erected in its place. Having thought the outcome was a foregone conclusion, the councillors had been surprised to find that there was strong opposition to the proposal.
‘I must say,’ Judith smiled, ‘it was a lively debate. That woman with the fox fur got very angry, didn’t she?’
Kaye nodded. ‘My neighbour, Mrs Goodall,’ she said. ‘I fear I’ve made an enemy for life.’
‘But at least Beach House was saved,’ said Judith.
‘It’s all too easy to destroy these lovely buildings,’ said Kaye, ‘and once they’re gone, they’re gone.’
‘I heartily agree,’ said Judith. She warmed to this woman.
‘Has Annie had her baby yet?’ Kaye smiled. She spoke in hushed tones, anxious not to embarrass her guest, though there were few other customers.
Judith nodded. ‘A little boy.’
The order for Judith came and the waitress busied herself arranging everything just so. While Kaye poured the tea, she offered Judith first choice of cake.
‘Forgive me,’ said Kaye as she dabbed her mouth with the snow-white napkin, ‘perhaps I’m being a bit too nosy, but is she keeping him?’
‘She wants to,’ said Judith, ‘but my husband is adamant that she give him up.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Kaye. She couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to be made to give up your baby. And how ironic that just as the baby came, Henry was in jail. He would have been delighted to have his son at last.
‘I must say,’ Judith remarked, ‘you seem remarkably calm about all this. The whole experience must have been pretty awful for you as well.’
‘Henry, you mean? It was all a very long time ago. He left me way back in 1938. I only decided to stir up the hornet’s nest when I was thinking about getting a divorce.’
‘So you were in Horsham to get a divorce?’
‘That was the plan,’ Kaye smiled. ‘Unfortunately the man I thought I would marry once I obtained a divorce had a better offer.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Judith.
‘Don’t be,’ Kaye said nonchalantly. ‘It was probably a lucky escape!’
The two women laughed.
‘Have you seen your grandson?’
Judith’s face lit up as she talked at length about the baby. ‘He’s so intelligent. He can focus his eyes and he listens quite intently when you speak. I think that’s remarkable when you consider he’s only a month old. Do you have any children, Mrs Royale?’
Kaye shook her head. ‘I couldn’t have children,’ she said, her voice dropping. ‘That’s why Henry left me.’
Now it was Judith’s turn to be sympathetic. ‘Oh my dear …’
‘It’s all right,’ said Kaye, lighting up a cigarette. ‘I fill my life with other things.’ She really liked Judith. Under different circumstances they could have been friends. They spent the rest of their time at the table talking about their Christmas plans and admired the girl employed as a mannequin as she paraded through the tea rooms in a fabulous, strapless, dark-green velvet gown with a bustle back.
As they stood to leave, Kaye said, ‘If she kept the baby, would your daughter be able to support herself?’
Judith shook her head. ‘That’s her problem. She could only do it with her father’s support.’
‘Pity,’ said Kaye. ‘I could have offered her a room at my house.’
Judith grabbed her arm. ‘You really would do that?’
‘Why not? The poor girl deserves the chance
to keep her baby, but I’m not in a position to support her unfortunately. I already have a dependant maiden aunt. Annie would be welcome to a room in my house if she had the means to pay for it.’
They were about to part company when Judith caught her arm again. ‘Mrs Royale … Kaye,’ she began. ‘I hardly dare to ask, but my husband gives me a generous dress allowance. Could I pay for her room and board? He won’t guess where the money’s going. Men never notice things like that.’
Kaye agreed. ‘But what will she do? It seems a bit unfair to prolong the agony if she’s forced to give up the baby because she still can’t support herself at a later date.’
Judith sighed and put her hand over her mouth. It was frustrating to be so near and yet so far from what Annie wanted. Come to that, she didn’t want to give up her beautiful grandson and have him brought up by strangers. Given time, she felt sure she could persuade Malcolm to welcome the boy, but there was no guarantee of that and Kaye was right. It would be unfair to raise Annie’s hopes.
The waitress came back. ‘I’m sorry, madam, but we’re closing,’ she said, addressing Kaye.
They made their way to the till where Kaye settled the bill. ‘Has Annie got any skills we could exploit?’
Judith shook her head. ‘She was good at tennis and she can play the piano.’
‘I have a piano,’ said Kaye. ‘Could she give lessons?’
Judith took in her breath. ‘I don’t know … well, yes I suppose she could. She’d have to practise and maybe take an exam, but if it were a means by which she could keep the baby …’ Her eyes were bright with excitement.
‘Then it’s settled,’ said Kaye. ‘Don’t wait until she’s discharged from the Mother and Baby Home. Send her straight over to Copper Beeches.’
They walked through the almost deserted store discussing the rent and how it was to be paid.
‘There’s one small thing,’ said Kaye as they stood together on the street, ‘and I’m not sure how you are going to feel about it.’
Judith’s joyous expression changed into an anxious frown.
‘I already have another lodger,’ Kaye went on. ‘Sarah.’
‘Sarah?’ said Judith, not understanding.
‘Henry’s middle wife,’ said Kaye. ‘It looks like all three of us will be living under the same roof.’
*
Henry never walked around the exercise yard when he was let out of the cell, he jogged. They only had an hour a day and he knew that if he was to stay healthy, he had to make sure he kept fit. There was little time to talk to other prisoners, but he didn’t care. Most of them were thick or stupid, and besides, he preferred his own company. He had read the Bible from cover to cover, something he’d never done before, and after that he’d requested other books. There was little choice but he’d managed to read a few that were interesting. He preferred real life rather than made-up stuff, but if it was a really good author, he could lose himself in the pages for a few hours. Occasionally he managed to get hold of a newspaper. It was usually a couple of days old, but it kept him abreast with the outside world. Prison life, he soon discovered, was mind-numbingly boring. It brightened his day no end when he got Annie’s letter. A son … a baby boy. Henry smiled. He would leave his mark on the world after all. It had always bothered him that he had no son to carry on his name. Girls were all right but a son carried the seed. He didn’t believe in God, so having a boy was his only chance of immortality. His head was full of plans. He’d go back to her and let Annie keep the boy for the first few months. Babies need their mother, plus he wasn’t very enamoured with small children, but then he would take his son far away, as far as possible, and raise the boy himself. He would create a prince among men, a powerful leader, someone the world could respect and follow. He’d give him true values. Women should know their place; fathers should be respected and honoured for their wisdom and children should be brought up to know right from wrong. Hadn’t his own father quoted ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ often enough? He hadn’t stinted his discipline on Henry and look what a fine example of manhood he had become.
Today it was raining, so his time for exercise was cut short. Nonetheless it still gave the prison authorities time enough to change his life for the foreseeable future. When he got back to his cell, Henry’s cast-iron single bed had been swapped for a wooden bunk bed and, what was even worse, he had a cellmate. The man on the bottom bunk was a large mean-looking thug who had clearly been in one fight too many. Henry spotted a sweet wrapper on the bed beside him. The thieving bastard had been helping himself to his precious coffee crunches. They were Henry’s only pleasure in life and he had to make each little bag Annie sent in by post last. He knew the screws helped themselves when they were ‘checking’ the contents of the bag, and if this man helped himself as well, Henry would have nothing left. He felt the rage well up within him, but one look at his fellow prisoner told him not to start a fight. His nose was crooked and he had cauliflower ears. He was almost as broad as he was tall and he made Charles Atlas himself look like he was the scrawny weakling.
As soon as he saw him, Henry turned to protest, but the door was already closing. He eyed his companion. The man put down the newspaper he was reading and glared at Henry. ‘What you looking at?’
‘Nothing,’ said Henry.
The cell had been small enough when he was on his own, but now it seemed like a shoebox. Henry pulled the sheet from the top bunk and began to make up the bed. When he had finished, he climbed on top and lay staring at the ceiling. The two men said little for the first hour, but by the end of the day Henry had discovered that Big Frankie was in prison for GBH. It was a little disconcerting to discover the translation for that was Grievous Bodily Harm, but Big Frankie told him it was a long time ago and as long as Henry didn’t ‘get up his nose’ he was perfectly safe.
Just before lights out, Big Frankie gave Henry his newspaper. It was only the Daily Sketch, but at least Henry could catch up on things. On the front page, the new prince was pictured with his mother and the King at his christening. On the sports page, he read how the up-and-coming boxer Rocky Marciano had floored Gilley Ferron three times and won on a technical knockout, but the story which interested him most was of a woman who had taken the world of radio by storm. Her plays were critically acclaimed and she had just been voted the nation’s favourite playwright. When he looked at the picture of her next to the article, Henry took in his breath. It was Kaye. She was dressed in an evening gown and beautifully groomed with an expensive-looking brooch on her lapel. To be that successful, he knew she must be raking it in. Dear God, and he’d only just signed those divorce papers she’d sent. Not only that, but he’d also put them outside for posting. He had to get them back. It was imperative. He jumped off the bunk and began thumping the cell door. ‘Open up. Guard, guard, open the door.’
‘What’s up with you?’ said Big Frankie.
‘I’ve put a letter out for posting and I want to get it back,’ said Henry helplessly. The only thing between himself and all he’d ever wanted was those damned divorce papers.
‘Got any money?’ said Big Frankie.
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Henry snapped. ‘Guard, open this door.’
‘I’ve got a contact in the post room,’ said Big Frankie, looking at his fingernails. ‘If you want something bringing back, it’ll cost you.’
Henry turned towards him. ‘You can have my tobacco allowance.’
‘Done.’ Big Frankie sat up and the two men shook hands. ‘Who’s the letter addressed to?’
‘Dobbin and Son Solicitors,’ said Henry. At the same moment the light snapped off and they were plunged into the dark. Henry groped for his bed and climbed back up. ‘It’s a London address.’
‘It’s as good as done.’ Big Frankie’s disembodied voice wafted towards him and Henry relaxed. A slow smile spread across his lips. When all this was over, his little boy would have all that money could buy. He’d changed his mind about the boy�
��s mother. If he played his cards right, he could get rid of all three of the silly cows who had betrayed him and start all over again. Come to think of it, he could use the old hag’s money. She had been there at the trial, hadn’t she. If he worked on her, she could help him go somewhere like South Africa or California, and then, after he’d ditched her, he could sit in the sun with a drink in his hand and a pretty girl on his arm. He felt himself harden. Now that was a plan.
Sixteen
Peter Millward was back and he had asked Sarah if he could take her and the children out for a Christmas treat on her day off. The girls were very excited when she told them that they were going to the pantomime at the Connaught and then having a meal. Of course, they’d never been to a pantomime before and hadn’t a clue what it was, but it was enough that Uncle Pete was taking them.
It was good to see Peter again, although he was upset that Sarah hadn’t told him about her troubles.
‘You were away,’ she reminded him curtly, ‘and I had no way of getting in touch with you.’
‘My father lived in Wales,’ he said. ‘He was ill and then he died.’
Sarah was immediately filled with remorse. ‘Oh Peter, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘you weren’t to know. I stayed on to settle everything.’
‘I thought you’d gone there to buy a coach or something. That’s what the chap in the office told me.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he smiled, ‘I’ve got enough on my plate with the lorries.’
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Yes,’ he said cautiously, ‘but you know what it’s like when you leave other people in charge. They never do things the way you like it to be done. But enough about me, what about you? How are you liking your new position? The girls look well and happy.’
Sarah told him how she had almost spent a night sleeping rough and now she lived in a lovely home. She said that her employer was kindness itself and the children were looking forward to Christmas. She didn’t mention that although she had nothing to complain about, she was struggling with her emotions. She had been content for a while, but as things became more settled in her life, she found herself brooding over the past. She had become angry … very angry. What sort of man was Henry Royal? How could he have dumped her like that? How could he turn his back on his beautiful daughters without so much as a postcard to ask after their welfare? She remembered with bitterness that he hadn’t even had the decency to look at her in the courtroom. He’d mooned over the silly bitch who was carrying his child. She’d even caught him mouthing ‘I love you’ a couple of times when Annie looked up at him, but he had no time at all for her. And when Sarah had sat in the witness box and given her evidence, he hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. He’d stared up at the ceiling or down at his fingernails the whole time. She felt as if she had kept everything buttoned up for so long, but now it was hard to keep her feelings inside. Kaye had been extraordinarily kind and Sarah knew she was more than lucky to have a roof over her head, but she couldn’t shake this feeling and the rage inside her gut was so strong, it was becoming more difficult to keep it in. She knew she shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this but they pushed their way uninvited into her mind. Why was Kaye doing this? What was her angle? She could have had any woman in Worthing to do her skivvying, so why did she choose her? Was it some perverse way of getting her own back on Henry? The bizarreness of the situation was beginning to dawn on her. With the two wives of one man living under the same roof with his children, it felt like a harem. It wasn’t Christian. Sarah wanted to make the thing work, but the whole situation was beginning to make her feel ill.
