[. . .] perhaps the best evidence of a genial all-the-year climate is the large number of residences built in recent years at West Worthing and elsewhere in the borough by Anglo-Indians and others to whom sunshine is almost a necessity.21
In 1941 the threatened German invasion (‘Operation Sealion’) had seen a dramatic transformation along the beaches of the south coast from Lyme Regis in the west to Ramsgate in the east. Barbed wire and landmines took the place of buckets and spades as coastal defence had become a priority – especially during 1940–42 when the invasion of Britain seemed imminent. Consequently Worthing’s famous pier, one of the principle attractions of the resort that had stood since 1862, was partially demolished and closed in 1940. Six years on, it remained a prominent and silent scar at the centre of the town.
At Whitsuntide of 1946, the weekend of ‘V’ Day, the local council had hoped that they could draw holidaymakers back to the resort, but a planned Victory parade through the town had been aborted due to lack of interest. As a focus to reinvigorate the tourist trade, the council had organized the reopening of the pavilion and bandstand on the parade. The opening was hugely anticipated as a matter of local pride. But despite their best-laid plans, the opening was, literally, a wash-out, cursed like the rest of that summer by bad weather. The Worthing Herald reported that ‘June 1946 was the DULLEST for twenty-three years; the COLDEST for eighteen years; the WETTEST for thirteen years’.22
Inside from the pelting rain, Worthing’s repertory company offered a weekly changing programme at the Connaught Theatre. That week the Overture Repertory Players presented Fear Walks Behind by Sydney Horler and Norman Lee. The town’s four cinemas were packed. With such terrible weather and television still a novelty, 1946 was the peak of cinema attendance in Britain with some 1.6 billion attendances – 3 million cinema-goers a day. The cinema offerings at Worthing that summer were a mixture of long-forgotten titles and the occasional classic, the majority from Hollywood. The Rivoli played She Wouldn’t Say Yes and Cornered. At the Odeon, Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake starred in The Blue Dahlia. Lana Turner smouldered in a risque two-piece swimsuit in the screen version of James M. Cain’s amoral murder story, The Postman Always Rings Twice and Ingrid Bergman suffered beautifully in Spellbound, the poster asking boldly, ‘Will he kiss me or kill me?’23
On Friday 21 June, Yvonne was surprised but delighted when Jimmy telephoned her at about midday, telling her that he was actually in Worthing and couldn’t wait to see her. Yvonne quickly changed into her most flattering green dress and met Heath in the centre of town. When they met, he told her that he was planning to stay for about ten days so that he could see more of her and meet her parents. He was smartly dressed, out of uniform this time in a grey pin-striped suit, collar and tie, but no hat. He’d left his luggage at the railway station until he’d decided on a place to stay. But finding an hotel at the start of the most anticipated holiday season since the beginning of the war would be no easy feat.
That weekend, Worthing was to be overrun with holidaymakers, many taking their first holiday since 1939. Two thirds of the population were to take a holiday that summer and the south-coast seaside resorts braced themselves for the enormous demand. Trains, stations, hotels and boarding houses were packed with thousands of people. Mile-long queues formed at daybreak at London stations when the railways handled the biggest crowds they had seen for years. Some luggage-laden travellers waited throughout the night to catch early trains. At Paddington a ‘crocodile’ of people wound its way into the side streets as there was no more standing space in the station itself. Everybody, it seems, was in holiday mood and aiming for the seaside.
Yvonne and Heath had lunch and with her local knowledge she advised him about places to stay. In Heath’s Daily Telegraph for that day there was a prominent advertisement for the Ocean Hotel, right on the seafront.
WORTHING OCEAN HOTEL
‘A Sun Trap on the Sea Front’
Unrivalled Position.
45 Bedrooms ~ World-famous Cuisine
Completely Redecorated ~ Central Heating
Dancing to Bob Crowder and his band.24
That afternoon, Heath and Yvonne called at the hotel on Marine Parade, opposite the beach. At the reception, the couple met George Girdwood, the hotel manager. Heath said that he was looking for accommodation for himself for the next ten days.25 The hotel being full at the time, Girdwood suggested that Heath could be accommodated for a couple of days in the hotel annexe, round the corner at 11 West Buildings, after which they could accommodate him in the main hotel. Heath readily agreed to this. He said his name was Lieutenant Colonel Heath and signed the register accordingly. He gave his address – this time – as South Africa House in Trafalgar Square and his nationality as South African, but Yvonne didn’t seem to notice. She and her new fiancé then left together to pick up his luggage from Worthing Railway Station. They returned to the hotel shortly afterwards with one of Heath’s large brown suitcases. He went alone to the annexe to his room, but then returned to have tea with Yvonne in the hotel lounge.
At this point, Heath asked Yvonne what time the evening papers came from London. She told him that they were already out, so he bought two. Throughout tea he glanced through the pages of the newspapers and was reading them intently. Yvonne remarked to him about this, but he didn’t reply. After he had finished with the papers, Yvonne flicked through them herself, but saw nothing to interest her. She thought that Heath was rather quiet and that something might be worrying him. Was it something she’d done? Or said? Perhaps he was cooling towards her? Now that she had allowed him to sleep with her, perhaps he had lost interest? But Yvonne kept her insecurities to herself. Whatever Heath’s feelings, he too was unwilling to give voice to them. He said he would be all right tomorrow, and that he had been ‘up all Thursday night’. He then jokingly mentioned some shirts that needed washing. Yvonne, eager to please her new lover, was only too happy to say that she’d wash them through for him at home and would collect them from him later. After tea, they went out together, but returned to the hotel for dinner at about 7 p.m. They were not seen together again that night, but they could easily have gone back directly to the hotel annexe without being seen. They certainly had sex again at the hotel and this may well be the occasion on which it occurred.
The next day was Saturday 22 June. Before she left her parents’ house, Yvonne washed the shirts that she had taken from Heath the night before. As she was washing them, she noticed that one of the shirts had a number of small brown stains on the tail, but she wasn’t quite sure what they were. Once washed, she put them out to dry, intending to iron them the next day. She then headed into Worthing to meet her fiancé.
At about 12.15 p.m., Heath and Yvonne went to the Ship Hotel in South Street, which was a quirky character pub modelled on an old galleon.26 Again, Heath was wearing his ‘civvies’. He was delighted to bump into an old friend, Angus Bruce, and introduced him to Yvonne. Bruce was drinking there with his friend, Dick Hollis, and the foursome had a drink together. Bruce asked what his friend was doing in Worthing?27 Heath told him that he was staying ten days at the Ocean Hotel. He’d been demobbed and was about to start a business buying planes in England to sell abroad.
Bruce had known Heath for about two years. He had been manager of the South Western Hotel in Wimbledon where Heath had been a regular. They’d once had a night out on the town drinking at Oddenino’s and the Haymarket Club in Shaftesbury Avenue. But at that time, which wasn’t too long ago, Heath had been known as ‘Captain Armstrong’ of the South African Air Force. Heath explained that he had been demobbed with the rank of lieutenant colonel and had received a letter of pardon from the King for a previous indiscretion in the RAF. He was no longer known as ‘Armstrong’ but as ‘Heath’. This must have elicited some curiosity from Yvonne, who was witness to the conversation, but, as Jimmy had explained, he’d had a letter of pardon and besides, it was all in the past now.
Before they left the Ship, to celebrate th
eir engagement, Bruce invited Heath and Yvonne to be his guests that evening to a dinner dance that was being held at the Blue Peter Club. The club was owned by his drinking companion Dick Hollis, who was Bruce’s boss, as he was now working there as catering manager. The club was in Angmering-on-Sea near Littlehampton, just a short drive from Worthing. The young couple said they’d be delighted.
Yvonne and Heath went back to eat at the Ocean Hotel. Over lunch, he wondered if Yvonne had heard anything about an incident that had taken place in the hotel they had stayed in the previous Sunday? Yvonne had heard nothing about it, but was curious to hear more. Heath went on. A woman, he said, had been killed – murdered – there during the week. But before Yvonne could ask any more, Heath reminded her that they had an appointment to get to. They were to meet her parents at Worthing Golf Club, just near the Symonds’ family home. He said that he would tell her all about the murder later on.
Arriving at the golf club, ‘Jimmy’ Heath was introduced to his future parents-in-law, John and Gertrude.28 John Charters Symonds (always known as Jack) was a civil engineer and had been a major in the RASC during the First World War. Either during or just after the end of the war, he had met and married Gertrude Werther in Belgium before bringing her back with him to England.29 Yvonne, their only child, had been born in 1925.
Heath explained that he was South African, though educated in England. Whilst at Cambridge, he had joined the University Flying Club, from which he obtained a commission in the South African Air Force. He told Major Symonds about his wartime experiences with the SAAF where he had seen active service in North Africa and El Alamein. He also claimed to be related to Lady Heath, the Irish aviatrix, who had been one of the most famous women in the world during the 1920s. Flying, Heath explained, was something of a family obsession – both his parents also being flyers themselves. His present job was buying and selling aircraft and he proposed to continue in this line for the next five years after which his father wanted him to give up flying and return to South Africa to join the family stockbroking business. The meeting went very well, with Heath expounding on life in South Africa and his time during the war. Finally, Major Symonds delightedly accepted Heath’s suit for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
Now properly engaged, the young couple left the golf club at about 1.30 p.m. to spend the afternoon together. Yvonne returned to her parents’ house at 6 p.m. to change for dinner. At 7 p.m., Heath arrived to take them to the dinner dance at Angmering. While Yvonne finished dressing, Major Symonds chatted with Heath downstairs. A military man himself, he noted that Heath was in British khaki battledress with a lieutenant colonel’s insignia with two rows of decorations, led by the DFC and Bar. He also wore pilot’s wings and had red ribbons on his epaulettes, denoting the SAAF.
Yvonne was finally ready, a taxi was ordered and the smart young couple were driven off to Angmering. To Jack and Gertrude Symonds, Yvonne’s fiancé seemed the ideal son-in-law – an educated gentleman; charming, well connected and a war hero to boot.
The Blue Peter Club was situated right on the pebble beach at Angmering, twenty minutes’ drive from Worthing.30 Heath and Yvonne arrived at about 8.15 p.m. The day had gone well and Yvonne’s parents had been impressed with her new beau. But one thing had been troubling Yvonne ever since Jimmy had mentioned it – the story of the murder at the Pembridge Court Hotel. At dinner, she took the opportunity to remind him that he was going to tell her about it. As the band played on in the background, Jimmy seemed only too keen to tell her everything, in all its shocking, graphic detail.
‘Jimmy, you were going to tell me about the murder? At the hotel?’ said Yvonne.31
‘Yes. So I was. Well, after you left for Worthing on Monday, I stayed on at the Pembridge Court. On Thursday, I was at an hotel with a journalist friend and we got into conversation with a couple near us, so we all had a drink together. The girl was pretty well known as a prostitute. The man said he wanted to spend the night with her, but had nowhere to take her. So I said, why don’t you use my room?’
For the young girl from Worthing, this tale of Heath offering up his hotel room (indeed their hotel room where they had spent such a romantic weekend) for an acquaintance to spend the night with a prostitute must have seemed distasteful enough – certainly outside Yvonne’s experience. But having only recently lost her virginity to her fiancé, maybe this was another rite of passage, a swift education in the ways of the adult world where things were different and which she felt too inexperienced to question.
‘What about the landlady?’ she asked.
‘I told her that if anyone called for me, they could contact me in Hendon where I was going to stay the night. So I gave my room key to the man – in front of my reporter chum.’
‘I see,’ said Yvonne.
‘The next day,’ Heath continued, ‘on Friday morning, I was at Hendon and had a telephone call from an Inspector Barratt of the Metropolitan Police.32 He said he wanted to talk to me as soon as possible, so he’d send a car to bring me back to the hotel. He was keen to establish that I hadn’t slept in my hotel room, as a murder had been committed there. And he wanted me to identify the body. Obviously this was the woman I’d met in company with my friend the night before. So Barratt took me to Room 4 at the Pembridge Court.’
‘And?’
‘I saw the body of the woman. It was a gruesome sight. She’d been tied by her legs and thighs. Her body was very bruised. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life.’
‘What had happened to her?’
‘Inspector Barratt said that a poker had been stuck up her. That it was the poker that killed her. I’m not so sure. I think it’s more likely that she’d been suffocated. He asked me to stay in town so that I could assist in trying to identify the man I gave the key to.’
‘Who would do such a terrible thing?’
‘It can only have been done by a sexual maniac.’
‘Yes.’
‘And, of course, you know it wasn’t me.’
Here was Yvonne’s fiancé, sitting before her and telling her the truth. Of course it couldn’t have been him.
‘No.’
‘I’ve treated you kindly whenever we’ve been alone together, haven’t I?’
Whatever she felt about this extraordinary tale, Yvonne said nothing. Jimmy bumped into some RAF friends and as the evening wore on, it receded in her mind. She and Heath met Angus Bruce again, as he was working that night at the club. Heath wondered if they might pop in once more in the morning and Bruce said he’d be delighted to see them. The couple stayed at the club until midnight and Yvonne clearly felt safe enough with Heath to share a taxi with him to her parents’ house in Warren Road, where he dropped her off before going on to his hotel. It was the end of an eventful engagement day that Yvonne would never forget.
Back at home, Yvonne began to puzzle over the shocking story that Jimmy had told her. The more she turned it over in her mind, the more questions it raised. Jimmy had said at some point that he knew the woman had no money, but didn’t say how he knew this. He didn’t once mention the name of the mysterious man he had lent his key to and that the police were now looking for, nor the name of the woman who had been killed. And who was the journalist who had witnessed the transaction? Crucially, why had Jimmy come to Worthing? Hadn’t the police specifically asked him to stay in London?
The next morning – Sunday – Yvonne woke early and started ironing the shirts that Jimmy had asked her to launder, ready to return to him later in the day. Then, a weekly ritual: the Sunday newspapers arrived before breakfast. Glancing at the headlines, Yvonne’s parents were stunned; her fiancé was front-page news.
6ft MAN SOUGHT IN HOTEL CRIME
Scotland Yard detectives seeking a clue to the murder of Mrs. Margery Gardner, 33-year-old film extra, in an hotel in Pembridge Gardens, Notting Hill issued a description yesterday of a man they wish to interview. They appealed to anyone who sees a man answering this description to go at once to a police station.
The man is described as Neville George Clevely Heath, aged 29.
He is 5 feet 11½ inches tall of medium build, fresh complexion, fair hair and eyebrows, blue eyes, broad nose, firm chin, square face with good teeth and he is probably wearing a double-breasted light grey suit with a thin stripe and a cream-coloured shirt with collar attached or a check sports jacket, flannel trousers, dark brown trilby and dark brown suede shoes. He walks with a military gait and is known to frequent good-class hotels and guest-houses.
Mrs. Gardner’s unclothed, bruised body was found in a first floor bedroom of the hotel on Friday afternoon with her legs and ankles bound. She is believed to have been suffocated.33
Major and Mrs Symonds were stunned. But when they showed her the paper, Yvonne did not seem at all surprised. She told her parents all about the conversation she had had with her fiancé the night before, outlining the details of the murder in Notting Hill. Yvonne’s father told her that she should telephone Jimmy at once. At 9.30 a.m., Yvonne phoned the Ocean Hotel, but was told by the receptionist that Jimmy couldn’t reply as he was sleeping in the annexe. Yvonne left her parents’ telephone number – even though she knew he had it – and a message for him to call her urgently on Swandean 906.34
Twenty minutes later, Heath telephoned her. Yvonne explained that she and her parents had read the newspapers and that they were very worried. ‘Yes,’ said Heath with extraordinary understatement, ‘I thought they would be.’35 He told her not to worry. He had a car and was going to drive up to Scotland Yard right away. He would return to Worthing that evening and would ring her later on. Yvonne felt calmer. He was going to sort everything out. It must be some sort of mistake.
All Sunday evening Yvonne waited for a call from Jimmy. But he didn’t ring her that evening. She hoped he might ring the next morning; he did not. She was never to speak to him again. The next time she would see him, she would be in the witness box and he would be in the dock in a police court. The story of her whirlwind romance and the intimate details of the loss of her virginity were to be crucial evidence in one of the most sensational murder trials of the century.
Handsome Brute: The True Story of a Ladykiller Page 5
