For Better For Worse

by Pam Weaver

  Sarah found herself apologising.

  As usual, Vera’s place was immaculate. It was like a show house. Everything in her spotless kitchen matched or blended. The walls were canary yellow and she had yellow gingham curtains. The kitchen chairs had matching cushions and there was absolutely nothing on the work surfaces.

  ‘Sit still, Lu-Lu,’ Vera said pulling out a chair, then looking at Sarah she said, ‘does she need to go to the toilet?’

  Inwardly, Sarah sighed. This was going to be a trying visit.

  *

  Although the doctor’s office was plush, it bordered on the old-fashioned. Furnished with heavy, dark furniture, there was little light coming through windows which were badly in need of a window cleaner. Kaye perched herself slightly sideways and was almost swallowed up by the leather seat in the waiting area. She flicked an imaginary piece of fluff from her grey pencil skirt.

  ‘Mr Young will only be a minute,’ the receptionist told her. She was a plain-looking woman with a severe bun and round-rimmed glasses. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  Kaye shook her head and at the same moment Mr Young opened the door to his office and came out with a middle-aged man. ‘Book another appointment,’ he smiled, ‘and I’ll see you in a month.’

  The two men shook hands and the doctor went back into his office. Kaye watched the patient make his appointment, and as he turned to leave, the man raised his hat to her. ‘Top rate man,’ he smiled encouragingly.

  Kaye nodded and relaxed.

  As the street door closed, the doctor came out to fetch her. He shook hands and steered her towards the office but not before he’d mouthed something to the receptionist. The room was panelled and clearly from a bygone age. The windows were small and there was a couch against one wall. Kaye sat on a more formal chair on one side of his desk while Mr Young went around the other side.

  ‘Your results are all back now, Mrs Royale,’ he began. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘A bit breathless at times,’ Kaye admitted. She took off her gloves and unbuttoned her jacket. ‘I do get rather tired. I’m hoping you might prescribe a tonic.’ She smiled encouragingly but the doctor’s face remained serious.

  ‘I’m afraid I have some rather bad news,’ he said, coming around the desk again. He perched on the corner and reached for her hand. ‘Mrs Royale … Kaye … my dear, the results are not good.’

  ‘You mean I’m going to need an operation?’ Kaye was already focussing her mind on a possible delay of her deadline. It would be a bit inconvenient but not insurmountable.

  ‘Kaye, I’m afraid you have lung cancer. It’s pretty advanced and there’s not a lot we can do.’ Mr Young paused to let her digest what he had just said.

  She searched his face desperately. ‘A friend of mine said she had radiotherapy,’ she began.

  ‘It’s far too late for that, my dear,’ said Mr Young. ‘In fact, I’m afraid I can’t offer you any treatment.’

  She became aware that he was still holding her hand and snatched it back. There was a soft knock on the door and the receptionist came in with a tea tray. Kaye fiddled with her gloves. Mr Young waited until his receptionist had gone and then poured his patient a cup. He put in two large spoons of sugar and, opening his desk drawer, took out a small silver flask. ‘You’ve just had one hell of a shock,’ he said, ‘but one thing I can promise you. When the time comes, we will make you as comfortable as possible.’

  Her brain refused to function. She felt as if she was watching a film or a play on stage. It didn’t seem real. When the time came? She watched him lace the tea with brandy, or perhaps it was whisky, and took the cup. Her hand trembled slightly and her chest was tight. She could feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes. ‘How long?’ she whispered. ‘How long have I got?’

  He looked her straight in the eye. ‘Three to six months.’

  Kaye gulped the tea. Six months, was that all? But she’d only just got her success. All those years struggling to be independent and recognised and all she’d got was six months. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t real. This was a horrible dream and she’d wake up in a minute. ‘Are you sure?’

  Mr Young nodded. ‘I’m sorry, my dear.’

  Kaye rose unsteadily to her feet.

  ‘It’s a pity you didn’t bring someone with you,’ Mr Young was saying, ‘but if you would like to take a seat in the waiting room, I’ve arranged for a nurse to escort you home.’ They’d reached the big leather chair again. ‘My receptionist has telephoned her and she will be here shortly.’

  Kaye wasn’t really listening. ‘I’m sorry … Who will be here?’

  ‘The nurse who will take you home,’ said Mr Young.

  ‘But I live in Worthing.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said the doctor. ‘She will go with you all the way.’

  ‘I’m not going back until tomorrow.’ She felt irritated. She didn’t want this silly conversation. She didn’t want a nurse either.

  ‘She’ll do whatever you want.’ He patted Kaye’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear.’

  She was suddenly filled with anger. She wanted to smack his patronising, condescending face and was glad when he left her settled in the waiting area. Her half-drunk cup of tea was placed on the low table beside her, and when she looked up, Mr Young was already showing his next patient into his office. The receptionist went back to her typing, and when she turned to the filing cabinet for something, Kaye slipped out onto the street.

  Twenty-Five

  ‘What have you done to your hair?’

  Sarah and Jenny were in the kitchen where Jenny was helping her mother to lay the table. Sarah moved some books from the table so that they could put on the tablecloth. She’d been curious about the silver salver she polished every week, so she’d been looking at some old books about antiques. She found them fascinating and even identified the painting of a springer spaniel in the hallway as a William Albert Clark. She hadn’t realised before but quite a lot of Kaye’s things were very valuable.

  She and Jenny had been talking about the school trip. The children had been along the shoreline collecting things for the classroom nature table and then they had sat on the green near the wartime shelters to eat their lunch. Jenny had talked excitedly about the different seaweeds she had found and she and her mother had hung a piece she’d brought home with her outside the back door.

  ‘Mrs Audus says it will tell us what the weather will be like,’ Jenny said.

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ Sarah agreed. ‘If it’s wet, it’s raining, and if it’s all dried up, it’ll be sunny.’

  Jenny had looked at her mother with a puzzled expression before they both laughed out loud. ‘Oh, Mummy …’

  Jenny had turned her head and that’s when Sarah noticed her pigtails. ‘Oh Jenny!’ Sarah cried. ‘You’ve cut one of your plaits right off.’

  ‘I didn’t, Mummy.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Jenny,’ said Sarah. ‘You know I don’t like it when you tell porky-pies. I can see that you have and it’s very naughty.’

  ‘But I didn’t,’ Jenny protested.

  ‘Then who did?’ Sarah challenged.

  Jenny shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘So why did you do it?’

  Her daughter stared miserably at the floor. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Go to your room.’

  Her voice was sharp and Jenny burst into tears. She ran from the room, her thundering footsteps crashing up to her bedroom as she continued to protest her innocence. ‘I didn’t do it. I didn’t, I didn’t.’

  Sarah lowered herself onto a chair. It had been a long and trying day. Her visit with Vera had been unbearable; in fact, she hadn’t even once asked Sarah how she was.

  The evening paper was in front of her. Usually Kaye kept it until the next morning, reading every inch of it, but today Kaye was in London and staying overnight. Sarah pulled the paper towards her and thumbed idly through the pages until she came to the accommodation section. There were some houses available,
but the rents were more than her wage. The flats were a tad better, but she would still struggle to feed and clothe the children on what Kaye paid her. When she first came to Copper Beeches, she had been angry, resentful and upset. Over the months she had found happiness again, but it was becoming a constant fear that with Lottie capable enough to look after the running of the house, Kaye would no longer have a need for her. In case worse came to the worst, Sarah felt she had to have a plan for her future. She had almost saved enough money to pay the deposit on a place, but she would have to have a better-paid job to cover a higher rent. She glanced down the situations vacant column. Housekeeper, chambermaid, secretary in a dairy, counter assistant and telephonist … they all sounded tempting, but she had two little girls to look after as well. What if one of them was ill? Who would take care of them?

  The door opened and Lottie came into the room with Lu-Lu.

  ‘We’ve had a lovely bath,’ said Lottie. Lu-Lu looked tired and sleepy as Lottie strapped her into her highchair. ‘What’s up with Jenny?’

  ‘She’s cut her hair,’ said Sarah crossly, ‘and now she’s only got one plait.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Lottie grinned. ‘I remember doing something like that when I was a child. I took a huge lump out of my fringe and even though my mother caught me with the scissors still in my hand and the hair in my lap, I denied it.’

  Sarah felt herself soften. Lottie was right, and thinking about it, she’d done something similar herself when she was about Jenny’s age. It was a shame the plait was gone, but perhaps it was an opportunity to give Jenny a new hairstyle. She’d give her a few more minutes alone in her room and then call her downstairs and give her a trim after their meal.

  Lottie finished laying the table. As Sarah dished up the meal, she reflected on how much Lottie had changed. The timid mouse too frightened to say anything had gone. Now that she felt safe and secure, Lottie was proving herself to be an intelligent woman with opinions of her own. True, she still leaned on Sarah quite a bit, but she was no longer downtrodden and scared. She had gained her confidence and she was trustworthy. As Lottie tousled Lu-Lu’s hair to keep her awake, she could see that the pair of them truly loved each other. How tragic that Lottie had been in her late forties before Kaye came along. There must be other people just like her out there who only needed a helping hand to be able to live productive lives. Kaye had done a remarkable thing by bringing Lottie into the house, but she’d only been able to do it because she had the money.

  Thinking of money gave Sarah an idea. She enjoyed bookkeeping, and although his new wife Nancy now did his books, the two businesses Peter Millward had put her way wanted to retain her services. If she could manage to take on a few more local businesses and save the money, she could put it towards a new career. How much money would it take to become an expert on antiques, she wondered?

  *

  The post was late this morning. Usually it was on the mat at seven thirty sharp, but Sarah didn’t pick it up until gone ten. She’d been cleaning the bathrooms and now it was time for a break. Annie had gone to work and her mother had taken Edward out. Jenny was at school and Lu-Lu was playing with a little friend for the morning. Lottie was in the kitchen cleaning Kaye’s gloves. She’d found an old newspaper in the bottom of a drawer and read in it that using stale bread was an excellent way of cleaning kid gloves. They had been pondering what to do with the gloves because they knew that they would shrink if washed in water, and yet they were so dirty inside that if something wasn’t done soon, they would have to be thrown out. That would have been a pity. Kaye absolutely loved them. As soon as she saw the newspaper cutting, Lottie was a woman on a mission.

  Sarah made the tea and got out some shortbread fingers.

  ‘It’s working,’ said Lottie, showing her one of the gloves.

  ‘Well done you,’ Sarah smiled.

  Most of the letters were for Kaye of course, but surprisingly Sarah had one today too. It was a bit bulky, although whatever was inside was soft. As she opened it, she cried out in shocked surprise as she saw what was inside.

  ‘What is it?’ cried Lottie.

  ‘Nothing, it’s nothing,’ said Sarah, stuffing the envelope into her apron pocket.

  ‘But it is,’ Lottie insisted. ‘You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’

  Sarah looked away. Lottie stood up and went to her. ‘What is it, Sarah? Show me. I’m not a child. You can trust me.’

  Sarah put the envelope onto the table and Lottie’s hand flew to the side of her face as she gasped. ‘But that’s Jenny’s plait. How did it get there? Who sent it?’

  ‘It must have been Henry.’

  ‘But why? Was there a note? Why would he do that?’

  ‘Because he thinks I told the police about him and that’s why he ended up in jail.’ Sarah was trying to stay calm, but her hands were trembling as she tried to pour the tea.

  ‘You must go to the police,’ said Lottie. She put her arm around Sarah’s shoulders. ‘Do it now.’

  ‘What good will it do?’ said Sarah. ‘He hasn’t even written on the envelope, so how can I prove it was him?’

  ‘Go and talk to Bear,’ said Lottie. She glanced at the clock. ‘You took Lu-Lu over to little Alfie’s place to play this morning, didn’t you?’

  Sarah nodded dully. ‘I’ve got to fetch her at eleven forty-five.’

  ‘I’ll pick her up,’ said Lottie. ‘You don’t have to be back here until it’s time to pick Jenny up from school. Go, go.’

  Sarah flung her arms around Lottie and they hugged each other.

  ‘Go,’ said Lottie again.

  Putting the envelope and Jenny’s hair into her shopping bag, Sarah hurried out of the house. A moment or two she was back again rummaging in the ragbag until she found the slashed apron. Her heart was thumping and her mind was in a whirl. As soon as she was out of the gate, she began to run. Supposing Henry was watching the house, suppose he could see her now? The street was empty apart from a passing cat. And when she got to the police station, what would she do if Bear wasn’t there? She didn’t really want to explain everything to somebody else. Think, she told her panicking brain, think …

  *

  ‘Kaye?’

  As soon as she heard his voice, Kaye froze. She had been stumbling along the street in a sort of a daze. Her jacket was still undone and she had a thumping headache. Even though the hotel was in a quiet mews, she’d slept badly.

  ‘Kaye, darling …’ As she heard his voice, her stomach tightened and her heartbeat quickened. His footfall was right behind her. ‘Kaye, is it really you? Oh darling, I’m so pleased to see you.’

  She turned slowly. This was the first time she’d been this close to Henry in years. In the courtroom, although he seemed to fill the room, there was a fair amount of space between the witness box and the dock. Now he was only an arm’s length away from her. He was smiling and he looked very dapper in a beautifully cut, expensive suit, with his hair slicked down and the flash of a large gold ring on his finger. He was carrying a slim black case.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ he said, taking her hands in his. ‘This is such a marvellous coincidence.’

  She snatched her hands back. ‘What are you doing here, Henry?’ Her voice was cold.

  ‘Looking for you, darling,’ he said smoothly. ‘I bumped into your producer at the BBC. He told me you were in town and I guessed you might be staying close by.’

  She frowned crossly. ‘What were you doing there? Are you checking up on me or something? Leave me alone, Henry.’

  ‘My only concern is that you are all right,’ he smiled. ‘Percy Granger said some lovely things about you.’

  Was it only a day since she’d seen Percy? Only one day since that wonderful contract and then that terrible news in the doctor’s office. After what Mr Young had told her, she’d stumbled out onto the street and walked for hours. It was only as the sun was going down that she’d realised what she’d been doing. She was exhausted and had to get a taxi back to her hot
el. She’d rested on the bed for a while and then telephoned the girlfriend she was supposed to be meeting in the evening. She’d pleaded a terrible headache and asked for a dinner date another time. Another time … would there even be another time? She’d often played a party game where you had to decide what you would do if you only had four minutes to live. Real life wasn’t a bit like a game. She’d never realised how much death would dominate her thoughts. She felt emotionally crippled. It was impossible to make plans because she couldn’t think of anything else.

  ‘Are you all right, old thing?’

  Kaye snapped herself back into the here and now and frowned crossly. ‘How did you find me?’

  He wasn’t about to tell her about Dennis Nelson and her neighbourhood butcher. ‘Let’s go for a meal or something and we’ll talk.’

  He looked so suave, so well dressed and wealthy. She wanted to scream at him, beat his chest with her fists, and tell him that life was bloody unfair and she hated the fact that people like him did horrible things and always came out smelling of roses, but she felt too weary, too beaten to bother. ‘No,’ she said dully.

  ‘Oh, please darling,’ he said, taking her elbow.

  ‘Stop calling me that,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want a meal. I’m just about to catch the train back home.’

  ‘Let me take you home,’ he said, taking her suitcase from her.

  ‘Give that back!’ she snapped. She didn’t want him coming home with her. She couldn’t bear his probing questions … they were bound to come before long. ‘No, Henry,’ she snapped as she reached for her case. ‘I’m catching the train.’

  ‘I could easily drive you to Copper Beeches,’ he said. ‘It’s only a couple of hours and it’s such a lovely afternoon. We could stop on the way.’

  Copper Beeches … Kaye’s jaw dropped and she felt sick. ‘How did …’ she began.