For Better For Worse

by Pam Weaver

  ‘You’ve already been more than a friend to me,’ said Sarah. She went on to explain about the romper suit.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ said Mrs Angel, pushing a cup of tea in front of her. ‘I’m afraid Mr Lovett won’t be taking any more orders and he’s obviously forgotten you still had one to make. He retired. I have a new representative now.’ She leaned forward and put her hand beside her mouth in a conspiratorial way, ‘He’s not nearly as nice as Mr Lovett.’ And Sarah laughed.

  ‘Perhaps it’s just as well,’ said Sarah, doing her best to hide her disappointment. ‘I have little time for sewing now.’

  ‘I’m glad things have worked out so well,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘I had high hopes that you and Peter might get together one day.’

  Sarah looked away and changed the subject. Peter’s letter had been brief and to the point. ‘I hope you and the girls had a wonderful Christmas. If it’s all right, could you pop by the yard this afternoon? I can’t wait to see you and I have something very special to ask you.’

  She’d been thinking a lot about him since the holidays began. She’d missed him being around and Lu-Lu talked incessantly about Occklepep. The urgency to leave the house had long gone and she and Annie rubbed along together fairly well. She knew they would never be close friends, but at least they had stopped being enemies. Sarah enjoyed working at Copper Beeches. She never thought she would, but she enjoyed giving Kaye and Lottie a high level of care and attention. She had not only made it a home but she’d put her own feminine touches around the place and, funnily enough, in doing so she didn’t feel one bit like a servant. But if she married Peter Millward, she could make a home of her own, a permanent place for the girls and somewhere safe and secure. The time they’d been apart had served to crystallise her feelings. She still didn’t love him, but she was willing to give this relationship her very best shot. She would grow to love him, she was sure of that, and perhaps once she got used to it, even that tuft of hair at the end of his nose wouldn’t seem so bad. He obviously had feelings for her. After all, he wouldn’t have said, ‘I can’t wait to see you’ if he hadn’t.

  As she hurried towards Peter’s coal yard, Sarah could feel her nervousness returning. She patted her hair in place and climbed the fire escape steps two at a time. As she pulled the door open, Peter was just coming out of the little kitchen at the rear. When he saw Sarah, his face broke into a wide smile.

  ‘Sarah,’ he cried. ‘Come in, come in. It’s so good to see you again. Did you have a nice Christmas?’

  Sarah closed the door and began to unwind her scarf from around her neck. The little office was stuffy and the smell from the paraffin heater overwhelming. ‘We did,’ she smiled. ‘It was the best we’ve had for a long time.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ he said, returning her smile. ‘So was mine.’ He turned his head and called over his shoulder, ‘Better make that three teas, darling. Sarah’s here.’

  Sarah was conscious that her jaw had dropped but she quickly recovered herself.

  ‘Sit down,’ he invited. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about.’

  Her mind was in a whirl. Darling? Who was darling? Her cheeks were flaming with embarrassment. Thank God he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  ‘I can’t stay long,’ she blurted out. ‘I have to collect Jenny from school.’

  The kitchen door creaked slightly and Peter jumped to his feet to hold it open wide. A small dark-haired woman entered the room carrying two cups of tea. She was older than Sarah, homely rather than pretty, with small features and smiley eyes. She was wearing a hand-knitted lemon twinset which was so beautifully done it would have easily won a WI competition. She wore lipstick but no jewellery. Sarah cupped her hands around her tea as the woman nipped back for a third cup and joined them at the desk.

  ‘This is Nancy,’ said Peter proudly. ‘Nancy is my fiancée.’ They gazed lovingly at each other as she sat down. ‘I asked her to marry me on New Year’s Eve and to my utter amazement, she said yes.’

  Sarah swallowed hard. All those trips to Wales – they were nothing to do with expanding his business interests, were they. He must have been seeing Nancy for some time. How could she have got this so wrong? A knot had formed in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Congratulations,’ she said heartily. ‘I wish you both every happiness. You deserve it.’

  Leaning forwards, Peter kissed Nancy’s hands.

  Sarah cleared her throat. ‘What was it you wanted to ask me?’

  ‘Um? Oh yes,’ said Peter. ‘I know you’re very good with a needle and we wondered if you would mind giving Nancy a hand with her dress.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a cheek,’ said Nancy when Sarah didn’t answer straight away. ‘I mean I don’t know you, but Peter says you’ve been a real brick to him.’

  Sarah was struck dumb. What could she say? This wasn’t Nancy’s fault. Now she understood how desperate Peter had been to get married. As an older man, he wanted to settle down before it was too late.

  ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t have asked,’ said Nancy uncertainly.

  ‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Sarah protested. ‘You just took me by surprise, that’s all.’

  ‘I already have some material,’ said Nancy, a Welsh lilt in her soft voice, ‘and of course we shall pay you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ said Sarah. ‘Consider it my present to you both.’

  As they discussed the dress and when Nancy would need fittings, Sarah struggled not to give way to tears. It was ridiculous being so upset because she didn’t love Peter, but when she’d read his letter, it never once occurred to her that he had something else in mind. Thank God she hadn’t said anything to Mrs Angel. That would have been too embarrassing.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s something else,’ said Peter sheepishly. ‘Now that I’ve got my Nancy, I shan’t be needing a bookkeeper anymore.’

  Sarah swallowed hard. She hadn’t done his books for a while and was rather hoping he would give them to her today so that she could update them. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything else,’ she said brightly. ‘As a matter of fact, I was going to tell you that now that I’ve got a housekeeping job, it would be a bit difficult to find the time anyway.’

  Peter looked relieved. ‘So it all worked out in the end.’

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘It all worked out in the end.’

  *

  Henry sat in his cell with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Halfway through his sentence and everything was going so well. He knew he was the envy of half the prison because he had already had his regular visitor, his guilty secret. Many of the prisoners thought she was his rich mother. Henry wouldn’t be drawn as to her identity. Instead, he would smile mysteriously and tap the side of his nose. He preferred to play his cards close to his chest and today he would have another visitor. Annie was coming with the baby. That would get them all talking about him. He would see his son for the very first time. He’d been waiting for the visitor’s bell ever since lunchtime and now, at last, the cell doors were being opened.

  They didn’t have long. Visiting times were only an hour and it wouldn’t be private. The room was filled with other prisoners waiting to see their wives and girlfriends. He sat at a table and watched the door. She was one of the last ones to come in. She was wearing a brown coat with a knitted scarf about her neck. Her hair was covered by a headscarf and she was carrying the baby in her arms. His heart lurched. She sat down in front of him and smiled.

  ‘Let me look at him then,’ he said.

  She pulled back the shawl and turned so that he could see the baby. He was asleep, and contrary to what his guilty secret had said about newborn babies, he wasn’t a screwed up little thing with a wizen face. Edward had a peachy-coloured little round face, with slightly flushed cheeks. He looked almost cherubic, and although his eyes stayed firmly shut, his hand came up and his fingers moved as if in salute to his father. Suppressing a smile, Henry let a little air escape from his mouth. So this was his son. His boy. After all this time,
he could show the world what he was made of. They wouldn’t look down on him now. He was a man and he’d proved it. He had a son. His name would go on for another generation. This boy was a Royale. He became aware that she was talking.

  ‘You won’t believe the time I’ve had getting here,’ she was saying. ‘I brought him in the pram and I’ve had to ride in the guard’s van all the way. It was a bit of a trial when I got to Southampton because I had to change platforms, but the porters were very kind and I made it in time. It was a bit lonely in the van all by myself, but at least I was able to feed Edward.’

  He glanced up at the boy’s mother, a look of disapproval on his face. ‘You didn’t go exposing yourself in public, did you?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ she laughed.

  ‘I won’t have it,’ he said, screwing his hands into a fist. ‘No wife of mine should do … that in public.’ He curled his lip.

  ‘Oh Henry,’ she smiled. ‘How else am I going to feed him? He can’t go all day without milk.’ She looked up at him and was alarmed by the expression on his face.

  ‘It’s disgusting,’ he hissed.

  ‘I’m very discreet,’ she said anxiously. ‘No one can see a thing. I put the shawl over my shoulder like this …’

  ‘Shut up,’ he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. He spun his head around to make sure no one was listening. A warder came towards him.

  ‘Everything all right here?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Mr Chambers,’ said Henry cheerily.

  ‘Madam?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Annie somewhat shakily. ‘Everything’s fine.’ Mr Chambers moved on. ‘I’m sorry, Henry.’ Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘Please don’t let’s fight. There’s so little time.’

  He looked at his son again. She should have the kid on the bottle. It wasn’t right, his boy suckling her breast like that … and in public. He shuddered at the thought, but aware that Mr Chambers was still watching them, he changed the subject. ‘So what have you been doing with yourself?’

  She prattled on, telling him about nothing in particular. Her mother, the Mother and Baby Home … God, he’d forgotten how irritating she was. In the end, he switched off and filled his head with his own thoughts. Kaye would have had his letter by now. He wondered whether to send another one, but he resented the fact that that pompous old twit Dobbin would read it first. If only he had her address.

  ‘I told Mother I wouldn’t stay,’ Annie was saying, ‘but she wouldn’t hear of my having a flat on my own. Surprisingly though it’s turned out to be all right.’

  ‘What has?’ he said dully.

  ‘Oh Henry,’ she protested. ‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. I said I don’t really mind living with Sarah and Kaye.’

  He started. ‘Wait a minute, wait a minute … you’re living with Kaye?’

  The baby stirred and began to protest. She lifted him onto her shoulder and rubbed his back gently. ‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘And Sarah and Jenny and Lu-Lu as well.’

  Henry blinked. ‘Well, I’m damned.’

  ‘Of course, we can’t stay there once you get out of prison,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be right, would it, all three of us under the same roof as you, but I’m saving every penny I can. When I’ve passed my piano examination I’ll be able to charge the proper price for lessons, but even now I can get a few shillings, and there’s no shortage of mothers wanting their little darlings to play the piano.’

  Henry wanted to laugh out loud. For weeks, he’d been sizing up just about every inmate in the prison before he confided in someone who might be able to trace where Kaye was living. He’d written to the BBC, but just as he’d thought, his letter had been ignored, and now, here was the silly female telling him that they were all together in the same house!

  Edward began to wail. ‘He needs his nappy changing,’ she said, ‘and I have to feed him.’

  ‘You’re not doing that here,’ said Henry, looking around anxiously.

  ‘Of course not, silly,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to go to the Ladies somewhere.’

  Silly? He felt his anger rising. Silly. For two pins he would have bellowed at her for talking to him like that, but he had to stay controlled. He had to be the model prisoner if he was going to get out on time.

  ‘I may not be able to come again,’ she was saying. ‘It’s very expensive and we want a bit of money behind us for when you come out.’

  ‘I quite understand, my dear,’ he said, relieved. ‘Take care of yourself.’ He watched her as she walked to the door and lifted his hand in a wave as she left.

  Back in his cell, Henry got out his prison-issue writing paper. He could write all three of them a letter now if he wanted to. He knew exactly where they all were. One of Annie’s letters fell on the floor. He opened it and looked at the address, Copper Beeches, Church Walk, Worthing. He put the letter back. No need to write to any of them just yet. He had other fish to fry … much wealthier fish.

  ‘Blimey,’ said Big Frankie, ‘only just seen her and you’re writing to the missus already. It must be love …’

  Henry grinned. ‘Something like that,’ he said as he penned the words. It was time to reel his guilty secret in. ‘My dearest, I hardly know how to put this down on paper, but I need your help …’

  Twenty-One

  Peter’s wedding was only a couple of weeks away. It had put pressure on Sarah to get the wedding dress done, but luckily Nancy had chosen a fairly plain design. The material was a white floral brocade and the dress itself was sleeveless, with a wide empire-line band fitted to the waist. The slightly pleated skirt was short and the only other shaping came from two darts at the bust. Nancy was going to wear a tulle headdress with a short veil and carry spring flowers. Now that she was able to use Kaye’s treadle sewing machine, Sarah had been confident that it wouldn’t take long to do, and she was right.

  The dashing of her plans concerning Peter left Sarah with a bit of a dilemma. It was obvious that she couldn’t stay in the house forever, but what was she going to do? She’d toyed with the idea of becoming a Spirella corsetière, which was a respectable job she could do from her own home. She had looked into it and discovered that she would need three weeks’ training in Letchworth, near to London, and then she could set up her own franchise. Money was the problem. She would have to save hard if she was going to do it. There was no money to be made in dressmaking, so where on earth did her future lie? She may have lost Peter Millward’s books, but based on his recommendations, a couple of other businesses had retained her services. Sadly they only brought in pennies. She needed to think of something a little more lucrative.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Lottie was peeling the potatoes ready for dinner. She was good at routine and Sarah didn’t have to remind her anymore about when to do things.

  ‘You’re busy.’

  ‘You know me,’ said Lottie chirpily, ‘I don’t let the feet grow under my grass.’

  Sarah turned her back so that she wouldn’t see her laugh. Lottie still didn’t talk very much and she sometimes got everything round the wrong way, but if she saw Sarah laughing at her it might destroy her confidence. It was obvious that she enjoyed living at Copper Beeches. As Sarah prepared the cabbage, they could hear Kaye coughing. Lottie looked up and they shared a look of concern. When the coughing reached choking proportions, Sarah left the kitchen and hurried to the study. Kaye was on her feet desperately trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were watering and she was very red in the face.

  ‘Ring for Doctor Bradley,’ Sarah called over her shoulder as she heard Lottie’s footfall right behind her. She closed the door, anxious that Lottie shouldn’t see her niece in such a state.

  Kaye was panicking. She spluttered into her hand, retching and throwing herself about as she desperately tried to catch her breath. Sarah snatched a handkerchief from her own pocket and handed it to her.

  ‘Kaye, you need to move into another position,’ she said, helping Kaye to bend over towards her knees. ‘Try and control
the cough and concentrate on your breathing. Breathe through your nose, that’s right, that right …’

  After a few seconds, Kaye began to breathe normally, but she was clearly exhausted by the episode.

  ‘Lift your head now,’ Sarah said. Kaye wiped her nose with her handkerchief and as Lottie opened the door, Sarah looked up. ‘Can you get Kaye a glass of water, Lottie?’

  ‘I feel dizzy,’ said Kaye hoarsely, ‘and my head is banging like a drum.’

  ‘I’ll get you to bed in a minute,’ said Sarah, ‘but you need to calm down a little first. Lottie has rung for Doctor Bradley, but I think he will only tell you what you don’t want to hear.’

  ‘Cut down on the cigarettes,’ said Kaye dolefully.

  ‘’Fraid so,’ said Sarah. The two of them exchanged small smiles. Lottie reappeared with the water and Sarah steadied Kaye’s trembling hand as she took a gulp. ‘Take it slowly,’ she advised.

  They didn’t have to wait long before the doctor put in an appearance. The National Health Service had begun in July of the previous year, bringing free health care to everyone in the country, but some patients had continued as before. Kaye was one of them and Doctor Bradley always found time for his private patients.

  Having shooed Sarah and Lottie from the room, he gave Kaye a thorough examination. ‘Any other symptoms?’

  ‘I’ve got a terrible headache,’ Kaye admitted. ‘And I do feel a bit worn out these days.’

  ‘Any muscular pain?’

  ‘Whenever I work too hard, I get a pain in my right shoulder.’

  ‘When did you last have a holiday?’ said Doctor Bradley, a neat little man with a moustache designed to make him look older. He’d taken over from his father when he retired from the practice and was the second generation who had cared for Kaye and the family. He put his stethoscope back into his bag.

  Kaye shrugged. ‘It’s been a while. I’ve been very busy.’