LITMIR.BIZ

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convinced something’s happened to him,’ said Vera. ‘They were such good mates.’

      Sarah shrugged and stared into the depths of her cup. ‘The police said he’d gone of his own volition.’ What else could she say? As far as she knew, Henry had never contacted any of their friends or relations, and yet before the war, the four of them had had some good times together before the kids came along. As soon as Jenny and Carole were born, the men became occasional drinking companions, sometimes in Littlehampton and other times at the Half Brick. She smiled as she remembered one occasion when they lived in Pier Road, Henry came home on his bicycle, telling her that on the way to the pub he’d nearly fallen off when a lone Home Guard stepped out into the road and put his hand up.

      ‘Whatever for?’ she’d gasped.

      ‘He wanted to know what I was doing out at this time of night,’ Henry had chuckled. ‘I looks at my watch. “It’s only 9.30,” I says and then he wants to know where I’d been. “To the pub,” I told him. “Aren’t there any public houses nearer home?” he asks me.’ By now, they were both laughing.

      ‘But why on earth would he do that?’ Sarah had wanted to know.

      ‘He was a just a rookie having a bit of a practice,’ Henry had chuckled.

      ‘If you were a ruddy German,’ she had laughed, ‘you’d hardly invade the country on your own … and on a pushbike.’

      Vera interrupted her thoughts. ‘You seem to be managing all right then?’

      ‘Oh yes,’ Sarah smiled. Pride prevented her from telling her sister just how hard things really were. She couldn’t bear to hear her sister say, ‘I told you so …’

      ‘If you need a few bob,’ said Vera, reaching for her bag, ‘I suppose I might be able to spare …’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Sarah interrupted as she felt her face heat up. Perhaps she could have done with a few bob, but Vera’s grudging and condescending manner meant that her pride got in the way. If the boot was on the other foot, she thought darkly, would I embarrass you the way you embarrass me? I think not. They drank their tea in silence. Sarah had little to say and the atmosphere between them had become rather awkward.

      ‘Did I tell you we’re moving?’ Vera asked.

      ‘No?’

      ‘We’re buying a house in Lancing,’ Vera beamed. ‘Annweir Avenue. The railway is helping us with getting a mortgage and Bill wanted to be closer to the carriage works anyway. I can’t wait.’

      Sarah swirled the tea in her cup. ‘Sounds good.’

      ‘Bill is going to do it up and we may take a lodger. You know … someone respectable.’

      Vera’s husband had done well for himself in the Lancing Carriage Works and the workforce was a close-knit community. During the war years, they had been kept busy repairing bombed-out carriages because the shortage of petrol meant that the railways had to be kept going whatever the cost. Henry had worked in a jeweller’s shop in Littlehampton until he was called up. It was through his friendship with Bill and the local cricket club matches that he and Sarah had met in the first place. Life was strange. It may have dealt her a bad hand but she was happy for her sister. They seemed to be doing really well.

      ‘The new British Railways have some brilliant new ideas,’ said Vera. She was on a roll now. ‘There’s talk about having an open day next year and inviting families and friends to come and have a look around. If they do it, you must come too.’

      ‘Sounds fun,’ said Sarah.

      ‘It’s free but they’re raising funds for the Southern Railway Servants’ Orphanage and Homes for the Elderly. You will come, won’t you?’

      ‘Try and keep me away,’ said Sarah, stifling a yawn. It was becoming more and more difficult to talk to Vera. As they’d got older, they had less and less in common. She felt uncomfortable and the conversation was always very one-sided. ‘How long before you leave Worthing?’

      Vera shrugged. ‘Two weeks, a month? There’s still a bit of paperwork to do but the house is already empty.’ She stood to leave, calling her daughter to her and explaining that she had to get back for Bill’s tea.

      ‘It was lovely seeing you again,’ said Sarah, planting a kiss on Vera’s proffered cheek.

      ‘By the way,’ Vera said in a rather loud voice as she stepped out onto the street, ‘I’ve got a few bits and bobs you can have that belonged to Carole when she was a baby. They’re a bit worn but they might come in useful for Lu-Lu.’

      A couple of her neighbours were walking by. Sarah averted her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly as she felt her face colour. ‘That’s very kind of you.’ She couldn’t say no. The children needed clothes and she knew she shouldn’t feel this way, but did she have to tell the whole street? She closed the door, grateful that Vera and Carole had gone.

      Later, when the children were in bed and asleep, there was a knock on the door. Sarah was surprised to see Mrs Angel and Peter Millward, the coalman, on her doorstep. Mrs Angel looked much the same as she always did, with her snow-white hair falling from her loose bun, but Peter was all spruced up. He was wearing his demob suit, a white shirt and a black tie. His thinning hair was slicked down and he was holding a bunch of lily of the valley.

      ‘May we come in Sarah, dear?’ said Mrs Angel.

      Tight-lipped and angry, Sarah kept her back to them as she made a pot of tea. If Mr Millward had been there on his own she would have slammed the door in his face, but having Mrs Angel by his side meant that she felt the need to be polite. She’d carelessly cast his bunch of flowers onto the draining board without a word of thanks. In fact, she hadn’t said a word since the pair of them walked in the door. How dare he come back! And how dare he get someone as nice as Mrs Angel involved as well. She put a cup of tea in front of them, making sure she slopped some of Peter’s drink in the saucer, and sat at the table, her eyes fixed on Mrs Angel.

      ‘Peter wants to ask you something,’ said Mrs Angel.

      ‘Does he now,’ said Sarah coldly. ‘Well, I’m sure I have nothing to say to him.’

      Mrs Angel put up her hand. ‘It seems there’s been a terrible mistake, dear.’

      Sarah opened her mouth but then Peter said, ‘I’m a man of few words, missus, and sometimes they come out all wrong.’

      Sarah turned to give him a cold hard stare.

      ‘I need a bookkeeper,’ he blurted out.

      Sarah blinked in surprise. ‘A bookkeeper?’

      He nodded.

      ‘I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before, dear,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘It’s something you could do from home. What I mean is, you wouldn’t have to get someone to look after the children.’

      ‘A bookkeeper,’ Sarah repeated. ‘I used to be good at sums at school, but I’ve never done anything like bookkeeping.’

      ‘Perhaps not, dear,’ said Mrs Angel, ‘But I can help you get started and there’s nothing to it. You just have to be methodical.’

      Sarah’s gaze went to Mr Millward. ‘I can’t pay you,’ he began. ‘I’ve only just started out myself, but I could pay you in kind.’

      Sarah felt herself relaxing. ‘With a bag of coal?’ He nodded furiously and she began to laugh. ‘You know what,’ she said. ‘You’ve got yourself a bookkeeper.’

      Mr Millward beamed.

      ‘I owe you an apology,’ said Sarah, but he waved a hand and shook his head. ‘Yes, I do,’ Sarah insisted. ‘It’s just that since my husband disappeared, a few people have made some rather improper suggestions.’

      Mrs Angel looked away but Mr Millward continued to stare. ‘Henry has disappeared?’

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