LITMIR.BIZ

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Mrs Holborn was back with a hot-water bottle. Annie watched as she emptied it out and refilled it with hot water.

      ‘I’m sure everything will come right in the end,’ said Mrs Holborn. ‘Your Henry is a good man.’

      ‘A woman came to the house,’ Annie began.

      ‘That woman we both saw in the street?’

      ‘No, a different one,’ said Annie. ‘She said Henry was her husband.’

      ‘Her husband?’ cried Mrs Holborn. ‘Well, that can’t be right, can it? Didn’t you tell me you were married in the registry office?’

      Annie nodded.

      ‘Well then,’ said Mrs Holborn. ‘She’s made a mistake. I shouldn’t worry, dear. The police will soon sort it out and he’ll be back home before you know it. I’ll just pop this hot-water bottle in your bed for you.’

      Annie listened to Mrs Holborn climbing the stairs. The baby moved and she rubbed her stomach. What if Henry really was still married to someone else? Her baby would be illegitimate, wouldn’t it? Her throat tightened. She was an honest woman. She’d been a virgin on her wedding night. Henry was experienced, but then you expected that, didn’t you? Young men and their wild oats and all that … But he wouldn’t have deceived her about something as important as having another wife, would he? Would he? Supposing he was still married? That would make her an adulteress, wouldn’t it? If she’d broken the seventh commandment and she didn’t know, would that still make her a sinner? He’d told the police he’d got a divorce. Annie never even knew he’d been married before. Why hadn’t he told her? That wasn’t the sort of thing a husband should keep from his wife.

      Mrs Holborn was back. She looked tired and drawn.

      ‘How is your husband?’ Annie asked.

      ‘I’m going back first thing in the morning,’ she said grimly. ‘They tell me it’s only a matter of days.’

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Annie, catching her neighbour’s hand.

      Mrs Holborn squeezed her hand back. ‘Don’t you go worrying about me. We’ve had a good innings, Oswald and me. All good things come to an end.’ As she spoke, her face coloured and she looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, dear. Me and my big mouth. Now it’s my turn to be sorry.’

      ‘Do you think I should telephone the police station?’

      ‘Leave it until the morning, dear. I’m sure they won’t tell you anything you don’t already know.’

      *

      As Peter Millward drove her and the girls home, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking. In truth, she’d wished she was still in the kitchen when the police had knocked on Henry’s door. How she would have loved to see his smug face change when they’d arrested him. What on earth had he done? If she could have had anything to do with it, she would have enjoyed pointing the finger and watching him squirm. How could he have left her and the kids like that? She was at her wit’s end. Someone in the pub had told her that if a person was missing for seven years they could be declared dead. But he wasn’t dead, was he? He’d walked out of all their lives, taking everything portable with him and, somehow, Sarah had struggled on. Seeing the lovely house where Henry lived made it even harder to keep a lid on her anger. She and the girls managed in one room and a bedroom upstairs and a poky little kitchen which she had to share with the tenant downstairs. They had an outside lavvy while the rat who’d put her in this position lived in a three-bedroomed house with its own little garden.

      Henry had once accused her of being dippy and said that she wouldn’t be able to cope without him. Well, she’d proved him wrong, hadn’t she? She may not have such a grand house, but she’d kept a roof over their heads and the girls knew they were loved.

      ‘I take it that it didn’t go well,’ said Peter cautiously.

      ‘It didn’t,’ Sarah said. The only sound in the lorry was the hum of the engine.

      ‘I won’t pry,’ he said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road, ‘but just to let you know, if ever you want to talk …’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Millward,’ she said stiffly. ‘You’re a kind man.’

      ‘Peter, please.’

      ‘Peter,’ she said shyly.

      And with that, he left her to her own thoughts for the rest of the journey. The minute Henry had pushed her and the girls out of the door, Sarah’s hopes and dreams had been finally dashed. In her haste to get away, she had tripped over a metal bath full of washing and fallen onto the path. Poor little Jenny was distraught. Sarah had hauled herself to her feet and, ignoring the graze on her leg, limped away, her only thought to get her children as far away from Henry as possible. For the first time since it happened, she became aware of a throbbing in her leg. She glanced down and in the headlights of a passing car, she caught sight of a dark stain creeping down her leg. Her stocking was shredded.

      ‘Do you need to stop and sort that leg out?’ said Peter.

      ‘No, I’ll be all right,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll wait until I get home.’

      Jenny had already leaned into her mother’s side and promptly fallen asleep. Lu-Lu was dead to the world in her arms and although Sarah was dog-tired, she couldn’t sleep. Her brain was racing. Lu-Lu was far too young to understand, but how would her gentle Jenny survive knowing that the daddy she adored had no time for her now? How could he be so heartless and cruel? Sarah kissed the top of her daughter’s neatly plaited head. ‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ she whispered to her sleeping child. ‘From now on, I promise to protect you. He may not want you, but Mummy loves you to bits.’ And, she thought to herself, Mummy will never let you down.

      *

      Mrs Holborn left soon after she’d put the hot-water bottle in the bed, making Annie promise to lock the door when she’d gone. The suitcase stood accusingly in the hallway as Annie wearily climbed the stairs. She would unpack it in the morning. As she undressed and crawled into bed, she wondered vaguely where Henry had been planning to take her. She turned out the lamp. It was lovely and warm between the sheets but already she missed Henry’s bulk beside her. Oh Henry … where are you now? They must let you come home soon. Her silent tears were making her pillow damp. She turned it over and closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come easily. Her mind wouldn’t stop going over and over what had happened. When she finally drifted away, her last thought was of him. I need you, Henry. I simply can’t have this baby on my own.

       Five

      Annie woke up with a thumping headache but there was no time to feel sorry for herself. Two aspirin with her cup of tea would have to suffice. By 9.15 a.m. she was already walking down New Street. She didn’t have a plan but she knew she had to do two things: one, to make sure Henry was all right; and secondly, to find a solicitor. As she reached the bus stop, a Southdown bus pulled up to let someone off. Annie climbed aboard. There was no room on the lower deck so she went upstairs, and how providential that turned out to be. As the bus turned towards the Carfax, she spotted a sign engraved on a first floor window. D.C. West, Solicitor and Commissioner of Oaths. Annie got off at the next stop.

      The entrance was in between a café and a greengrocer’s shop and up a steep flight of stairs. A door at the top was open and Annie found herself in a small office. A woman behind the desk was typing but she stopped as soon as she saw Annie.

      ‘Can I help you?’

      Annie stated her business and the secretary asked her to wait. She knocked on the glass of another door and a rather squeaky voice called ‘Enter.’

      Mr West turned out to be an amiable man with a jolly face and a bald head. He was dressed in a pinstriped suit and when he offered her a handshake, she could see he had well-manicured

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