Love or Duty (24 page)

Muriel shook her arm. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Sarah had changed her name? I read something about this Sally Charles in the paper but didn’t realize who it was.’

‘I knew about her name change but I thought she was still in Hollywood.’ Louise took out a hankie and blew her nose. ‘I haven’t heard from her for ages. I write every week but get no reply. I was beginning to get worried; worse still – I thought she didn’t want to know us any longer.’

‘Don’t be silly. Sarah’s not like that. It’s most likely letters aren’t getting through, especially now she’s out in Burma.’

Muriel’s common sense reassured Louise. ‘You’re probably right. But how was I to know where she was? And what happened to her film career?’

They were walking up the high street and Louise suddenly caught sight of the clock over the town hall. ‘Oh, goodness, I should be getting home,’ she exclaimed, quickening her footsteps.

As she started to hurry away, Muriel said, ‘So it
was
Sarah in that film we saw last year? The one about the sultan starring Sally Charles? No wonder we didn’t recognize her.’

She obviously wanted to discuss it further but Louise said a hasty goodbye. She
had
recognized Sarah and felt bad about keeping it from her friend. She’d thought Muriel might think less of her sister for appearing in a film like that. But why should she be ashamed? Besides, it looked as if Sarah had changed direction and gone back to singing. So long as she was happy, Louise didn’t care. But she did wish her sister had told her what she up to.

When she got home James was waiting, the un-ironed shirt dangling from his hand. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked, his face a mask of fury.

‘At the WVS centre,’ she said. It wasn’t like her to be evasive but this wasn’t the moment to say she’d been at the pictures, still less to tell him what she’d discovered about her sister.

‘You’re lying. They told me you left hours ago,’ he said.

‘How dare you accuse me of lying,’ she said, anger overcoming her usual submissiveness. ‘I
was
there. I just didn’t come straight home.’

‘You’ve been with another man,’ James accused, thrusting his face close to hers. ‘Who is he?’

She stepped back, flinching. ‘I was with Muriel if you must know – not that it’s any business of yours who my friends are. I don’t question you….’

‘It is my business when you’re supposed to be here.’ He flicked the shirt, catching her across the face and stinging her eyes.

She tried to move away but he did it again. Shocked, she began to whimper. ‘Please don’t….’ He’d never been physically violent before.

‘I’m going to teach you a lesson,’ he said, making a grab for her.

Terrified now, she pushed past him and made for the stairs but he caught hold of her ankle and dragged her down. She fell, hitting her head on the bottom step. It wasn’t hard enough to knock her out but she staggered as she scrambled up.

James was beside her, instantly contrite. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you all right?’

She nodded, clutching her head as pain surged through her.

He put his arms round her. ‘Darling, I hate it when we quarrel. But you make me so angry. Why can’t you just…?’ He choked on a sob.

Louise sighed. He was doing it again. Trying to make her feel as if it were her fault. Part of her wanted to agree, to tell herself that if she’d come straight home from the WVS and ironed his shirt, everything would be all right. The other half of her seethed with rebellion. Why shouldn’t she have a little time to herself, time to enjoy being with friends? Why should her life be all drudgery and duty?

James helped her to her feet and kissed her. ‘There, darling. Thank
goodness
you’re all right. Just a silly misunderstanding that’s all.’ He followed her into the kitchen and said, ‘Did you forget I was going out tonight? Never mind, I’ll pour you a drink while you iron my shirt.’

Louise’s head was spinning and she felt sick but she did as he wanted. It was easier to give in. As she ironed, she tried to summon up the anger she’d felt earlier, resolving not to be so spineless in future. It wasn’t as if James had ever been physically violent before. She shouldn’t let mere words hurt her. But then she remembered the contemptuous look on his face as he flicked the shirt in her face and the murderous rage in his eyes as he’d threatened to teach her a lesson. She was sure he’d been about to hit her.

For a moment she’d been terrified but her terror had faded with his change of mood and now she tried to convince herself that he wouldn’t intentionally hurt her.

As he came back into the room and held out his hand for the shirt, she forced herself not to flinch away from him. She wouldn’t let him see her fear.

F
or a while after the incident with the shirt, James was much nicer to Louise. It was as if he was ashamed of losing his temper and was trying to make it up to her. He’d stopped inviting his friends round for cards and drinks, always came home for his meals and seemed content to spend the evenings he was not on ARP duty sitting with her and listening to the
wireless
.

Occasionally he seemed restless, getting up and pacing the room, a glass in his hand. But he seldom drank to excess these days – not surprising, thought Louise, as the contents of her father’s cellar had long since gone and spirits were virtually unobtainable unless on the black market.

She guessed his agitation was due to money worries but, fearful of breaking the fragile peace between them, she hesitated to ask. The one time she’d mentioned it he’d brushed her off saying, ‘It’s all under control. I don’t want you worrying about it.’

Wary of setting off another black mood, she let the subject drop. Besides, she couldn’t summon up the energy to really take an interest. In fact, she had little interest in anything these days. She hadn’t even gone back to the WVS canteen and, since neither Muriel nor Mrs Wilson had telephoned to ask why, she hadn’t felt inclined to make the effort.

She sat opposite James now, pretending to concentrate on her knitting as he turned the pages of his newspaper. But she could tell he wasn’t really reading it.

He looked up suddenly and caught her watching him. ‘What are you staring at?’ he barked. ‘Do you realize how daft you look, sitting there staring into space like that?’

‘I was thinking,’ she said.

‘Huh, thinking.’ His short laugh was filled with contempt.

So, the brief respite was over, she thought. James was back to his normal sarcastic self. When he went back to his paper, her stomach was churning. Why did he have to be so nasty? What had she done?

She began to shake and, to cover her nervousness, she got up and put away her knitting. ‘I’ll go and make the cocoa, James.’

He folded his paper and switched off the wireless. ‘I’ll do it. You go on up. You look tired.’ He bent and kissed her cheek.

She was sitting up in bed, still feeling unsettled by his change of mood, when he came in with the mug of cocoa. ‘Drink it up,’ he urged.

He watched as she drank, patted her shoulder and took the mug away. ‘I’ll be up later. Sleep well,’ he said.

But it was a sleep of troubled dreams. Sarah was calling out to her, begging her to write. When she woke, her brain still foggy from the dream, James was already up. She could hear him moving around downstairs. She stumbled out of bed and went over to the dressing table. ‘Pen, paper,’ she mumbled. ‘I must write….’

The door opened and James came in. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘I want to write to Sarah. I’m sure she’s in trouble.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. How could you know that?’ James put down the tray he was carrying and came over to her. ‘Why do you waste your time worrying about her? The selfish bitch hasn’t been in touch for months. I can just imagine her out there, surrounded by adoring soldiers. She’s having the time of her life, probably never gives you a thought.’

Louise put her head in her hands and began to sob. ‘I don’t believe that. Besides, I can’t help worrying about her. It’s dangerous where she is. How do I know she hasn’t been…?’

James stroked her hair. ‘Please, darling, don’t get upset. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I just get angry on your behalf.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘Now stop crying and get back into bed. I’ve brought you some breakfast and a nice cup of tea.’

He settled her with pillows behind her back and laid the tray across her lap. ‘Now, I want you to stay there and have a nice rest. There’s no need to get up at all. I’ll be out all day and I’ll bring some fish and chips home for our supper.’

He turned at the door, smiling. ‘And be sure to eat up your breakfast. You must keep your strength up.’

When he’d gone, Louise tried to eat the toast he’d prepared but her mouth was too dry to swallow. She took a couple of sips of the tea but it had gone cold. Deciding to make some fresh, she pushed the tray aside and got up, but her legs were shaking and she sat down abruptly on the side of the bed.

‘I will
not
be ill again,’ she muttered, forcing herself to stand and make her way downstairs. There was nothing wrong with her; she was just tired, that’s all. At least she couldn’t blame the tonic. She’d gone through the medicine cabinet and thrown out everything, even the little bottle of aspirin she kept for emergencies. Thank goodness James hadn’t seen her in this state. He would send for Dr Tate straight away. But Louise had lost
confidence
in the old doctor since her last illness and she had resolved not to take any more medicine.

Her head was still pounding but after forcing herself to eat some toast and drink a cup of tea she started to feel better. I’ll write to Sarah, she thought, the dream still vivid in her mind. No recriminations, she decided, and no whining about her own situation. She’d just write a chatty friendly letter congratulating her on her singing success and wishing her well.

Her hand shook as she sat down at the desk in James’s study, but she gripped the pen firmly and began to write. Once she started, she found herself pouring it all out, even her suspicions that James had been trying to poison her.

She laughed a little as she wrote:
What nonsense it was. I even tried to blame poor old Dr Tate. But the fever was making me imagine things. James has looked after me wonderfully. He even brought me breakfast in bed this morning. I know I told you in earlier letters that my marriage wasn’t really happy, and I suppose that’s still true, but I’m making the best of things
.

She finished the letter and sealed it, wrote Sarah’s name and addressed it care of her agent in America. It could take weeks to reach her but she felt better for having written. She’d go to the post office later.

James had said he’d be out all day but, as she put the writing materials away, she heard the front door open. She thrust the letter into the pocket of her cardigan and stood up as he came into the study.

‘What are you doing?’ His eyes flicked to the open desk drawer.

Louise wasn’t quite sure why she lied. ‘I’ve got a headache; I was looking for aspirin,’ she said.

‘In here?’

‘There’s none in the bathroom. I thought you might have some.’

James laughed. ‘I don’t get headaches.’ He came towards her looking concerned. ‘You do look a bit pale. I’ll get you some aspirin on my way home.’

When he’d gone out again she took the letter out of her pocket, wondering if she ought to send it or tear it up and write another. Who else could she confide in? Muriel would probably believe her but what could she do?

She lay back in the old rocking chair beside the kitchen range and closed her eyes, tears seeping out and running down her cheeks. For now her earlier suspicions had been confirmed. James was definitely up to
something
. She was sure she hadn’t mistaken the guilty look on his face when he’d noticed the open drawer, a look hastily suppressed. And why would he look guilty unless he thought she’d spotted the bottle marked ‘aspirin’ pushed right to the back of the drawer? Why had he lied? And why would he want to harm her?

James had come home ready to confront Louise with her deceitfulness. He’d just discovered that she’d lied about needing her sister’s signature to sell the house. What was it about this monstrosity of a Victorian villa that made her want to hang on to it? Had she guessed how desperately he needed money? At one time he’d have sworn she’d do anything to please him but now, she seemed determined to thwart him.

As he strode along the High Street he clenched his fists in his pockets. How he’d stopped himself hitting her he didn’t know. But he must play the loving concerned husband for just a little bit longer. It would be hard but no one must know how he really felt about that lying, deceitful bitch.

He entered the premises of Charlton and Spencer, ignoring Nancy’s smiling greeting, and went into his office. Throwing himself down in his chair, he replayed the scene with David Webster, the solicitor, earlier that day.

‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you,’ he’d said. ‘As you know, my sister-in-law is abroad and it’s taken a while for her to return the
documents
.’ He withdrew the papers from his briefcase, making sure that the envelope addressed in Sarah’s writing was on view.

‘Your sister-in-law?’ David Webster had raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought your wife inherited the house.’ He’d dealt with the Charltons’s affairs for years.

‘Jointly – with her sister,’ James explained. ‘They couldn’t sell while Mrs Charlton was alive, of course.’

David Webster waved a hand impatiently. ‘I know that – I drew up the will myself. But I don’t recall Miss Sarah Charlton being left the house. She had a small legacy from her mother and Mrs Spencer inherited the house, plus a share of the business.’

James thought furiously. What was Louise up to? She’d definitely said she needed Sarah’s signature. He took a deep breath. ‘Mr Webster, as you know, my wife has been in poor health lately. As her husband I am fully authorized to conduct her business. She wants to sell the house and she specifically told me she could not without her sister’s consent.’

‘It’s not like Louise – Mrs Spencer – to make a mistake like that.’ David Webster pursed his lips.

‘Well, she has been ill. Some sort of breakdown the doctor says – the strain of nursing her stepmother….’

‘I quite understand.’ David Webster nodded sympathetically. ‘Perhaps it would be better if we wait until your wife is well enough to come in and see me. I really need to be sure she understands what she is signing….’

Furious, James had snatched up the papers and stormed out, angry that he’d gone to the trouble of forging Sarah’s signature when there’d been no need.

When he got home he’d been surprised to see Louise up and dressed; the sleeping pills he’d dissolved in her tea should have left her drugged for the rest of the day. When he’d seen her rummaging in his desk the impulse to grab her and demand an explanation had been almost overwhelming. Had she really been looking for aspirin? Good job he’d come in before she spotted that bottle. She might have swallowed some of the tablets without realizing they weren’t harmless painkillers.

He’d held on to his temper with difficulty. Once he lost it, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself really hurting her. That wouldn’t do. He’d made sure everyone in Holton knew the state she was in. Anything that happened in the future must look like an accidental overdose. But not yet.