Pam Weaver - For Better For Worse

It was a lot quieter next door as well. Mrs Rivers had gone to stay with her sister, although the neighbour who told her didn’t know her address.

Sarah’s need to keep going was relentless. Cleaning the house, doing the washing, making sure her girls were clothed and fed, queuing at the shops, the walk to school and the walk back again, working in the pub and the big houses, and once the children were in bed, sewing, sewing, sewing. Sarah knew she was exhausted but she dared not stop. It didn’t help matters much that the newspapers were full of gossip about the beautiful Princess Margaret. Whenever Sarah wiped the tables in the pub and someone had left their paper from the day before, she would see the princess smiling up at her from the Daily Mirror or the Evening News . Sometimes she was pictured doing the rumba or being welcomed by some dignitary somewhere. Eighteen years old, Sarah thought ruefully, and never done a day’s work in her life. How the other half live …

She made plans. She would put some of the money Mr Lovett gave her by and save up for a sewing machine. She’d seen an advertisement for a Singer treadle for £23/18/6, way beyond her means of course, but she’d ask the rag-and-bone man to look out for a second-hand machine. She’d be methodical and stick to it. When she got the machine she would put a card in Mrs Angel’s window, something like, Seamstress, alterations and children’s clothes at good prices. If she worked hard she could start a little business. In the meantime, Lil Relland had plenty of second-hand clothes in her shop. It wouldn’t take much to cut some of them down for baby clothes, and once she’d got a little capital behind her, she could buy some new material in the market. It might take a year or two, but with a bit of luck she need never be beholden to anyone again.

The police asked her to go back to the station to make a statement. It seemed to take a long time, but when it was over, she was glad it was done. Thankfully, Vera had dropped her a note to say she would look after the girls on the day of the trial. Sarah had a sneaky feeling it was only for the money, but she said nothing. If she confronted Vera, she knew her sister would turn her back on her and she wouldn’t be able to find anyone else. Sarah had had plenty of friends before she’d married Henry, but he’d never wanted her to continue friendships. ‘You’ve got me now,’ he’d say with that puppy-dog look of his. ‘Why do you need anyone else?’ So gradually she’d lost touch with her friends. It wasn’t until he was out of the picture that she’d realised how isolated she’d become. Since then, there wasn’t time for anything else except keeping her head above water. She had to keep going for the sake of the children. The thing she hated most was that she was becoming very short-tempered with them. If Lu-Lu messed about while Sarah struggled to get her dressed, they’d both end up in tears. It hurt her beyond words when Jenny brought a picture she’d painstakingly painted home from school called ‘My Mummy’. It was the usual childish attempt with a big woman standing outside a red-brick house and smoke coming out of the chimney.

‘That’s my house,’ said Jenny pointing, ‘and that’s you.’

‘Oh, it’s lovely, darling,’ said Sarah, pinning it to the wardrobe door with a drawing pin, but she was disturbed by the picture. The woman staring back at her looked very cross, when all she wanted was for her children to have a happy childhood.

Sarah had heard on the grapevine that the old lady who had lived in the two rooms downstairs wasn’t expected to live. With that news came more uncertainty. The housing shortage was so acute in the town that she knew she would have new tenants before long. What would they be like? Or worse still, what if the cottage was condemned and pulled down? The landlord had never bothered to repair the leak on the stairs, no matter how many times she’d asked, and it was obvious that he didn’t care about the damp creeping up the walls in the kitchen. What would she do if he pulled the place down?

Peter Millward turned up at her door one early evening to say he had recommended her bookkeeping skills to a couple of other friends. Once she’d sorted out the muddle he’d got himself into, it was easy enough to look them over once a month, but although Sarah would have welcomed the income, and she was grateful for his kindness, she had to explain that she would be hard put to find the time to do anything else.

‘I hardly have a minute to myself as it is,’ she explained.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked and Sarah hesitated. What if Mr Lovett couldn’t sell any more of her things? Could she afford to turn down another source of income?

‘Let me take you out,’ he said suddenly.

Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘You’re forgetting that I’m a married woman,’ she began, her face colouring. What a stupid thing to say. She wasn’t married at all.

‘That doesn’t stop you and the girls from having a treat,’ he smiled. ‘Come on. Nothing elaborate and no strings attached … fish and chips in a café?’

Sarah hesitated. The girls had never been in a café before and it would be so nice to have somebody else cook for her.

‘Good,’ said Peter, sensing his victory. ‘I’ll call for you on Friday at six,’ and with that, he lifted his hat and was gone.

It turned out to be a lovely time. The café was noisy and crowded but the fish and chips were delicious and the children were as good as gold. Sarah watched her girls tucking in and, for the first time in months, she felt relaxed and happy.

‘You look better already,’ he told her.

Sarah smiled. ‘This is very kind of you.’

‘Not at all,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I’m just looking after my own vested interests.’

Lu-Lu threw her spoon on the floor and they were distracted while Peter got a clean one.

‘I’m getting another two lorries,’ he went on once they were settled again. ‘The business is expanding quite rapidly. Don’t suppose you’d like a full-time job as a secretary?’

Sarah hesitated. It would be so much easier to have one job rather than racing about from one thing to another. Men always got far more money than women, she knew that, but she thought Peter would give her a fair wage. It would most likely be enough to cover the cost of living, but would it be enough to pay the rent? And what would she do with Lu-Lu? Jenny would be at school, but she knew without asking that Vera wouldn’t have her. Besides, she’d have to get her all the way over to Lancing and then fetch her after work if she did. If she had to fork out on bus fares, she’d probably end up back where she’d started.

‘If you’re worried about the little one,’ he said, pre-empting her protest, ‘I know a really good woman who would look after her.’

Sarah frowned. A stranger looking after her baby all day? She wasn’t sure about that … but perhaps …

‘Tell you what,’ said Peter, ‘think about it. I don’t need an answer straight away.’

Sarah watched him as he went back to the counter to buy mugs of tea for them both, an ice cream for the girls and to pay for their meal. He was such a kind man. A lump formed in her throat. Oh Henry … why? Why?

*

‘We’ll have to put in place a few ground rules about this.’

Malcolm Mitchell had gathered his wife and daughter in the sitting room of his comfortable home near the Thomas A Becket public house, about two miles from the centre of Worthing. He was anxious to regain control of a tricky situation. His good name was at stake. As a member of Worthing Borough Council, his reputation had to be squeaky clean, and as a Freemason even more so. They had let Annie sleep late as usual and now that breakfast was over and the maid was in the kitchen, where she could no longer eavesdrop on the conversation, he was anxious to decide on their next move. ‘Your mother will arrange a place for your confinement and for the adoption society to take the baby as soon as it’s born. You must stay indoors until the trial comes up. We don’t want the neighbours or the gutter press making your predicament into a public spectacle. I think if you keep a low profile, there’s no reason why you can’t pick up the threads of your life again once the birth is over.’