Love or Duty (25 page)

L
ouise was finding it hard to conceal her suspicions from James. If only there was someone she could confide in. She’d been tempted to speak to Dr Tate when he called unexpectedly, but she hesitated. He’d only say she was imagining things. After all, he’d been treating her for what he called ‘her nerves’ for ages. She had got him to post the letter to Sarah though. Now, if anything happened to her, her sister would be suspicious and would make a fuss.

Could she confide in Muriel? It seemed her friend was her only hope, but she’d need proof.

Since the morning when she’d woken feeling dizzy and sluggish, Louise had become even more suspicious of James. Although he pretended loving concern, she could read the insincerity in his eyes. He had started making their bedtime cocoa and bringing her tea in bed in the mornings. He’d never done that in the early days of their marriage. He was behaving as he had with Dora just before she died.

It was hard to refuse the drink when he stood over her to make sure she drank it. This morning she had woken up feeling groggy and disoriented as she often did these days.

When James had gone to the office, she went into the study and opened the desk drawer. Last time she looked the bottle marked aspirin had gone. Now there was a new one, pushed right to the back behind some papers. She shook a couple of the tablets out. They looked harmless enough. But they were very similar to the sleeping pills Dr Tate had prescribed for Dora.

Cautiously, Louise tasted one. It definitely wasn’t aspirin. Her legs felt weak and she sat down with a sob. Why was he doing this to her?

Her tears didn’t last long. Here was the proof she needed. She’d go and see Muriel and ask her friend’s advice. James was a respected businessman in the town and she had a feeling that if she went to the police they would dismiss her as a hysterical woman who had fallen out of love with her husband.

She really didn’t feel up to walking down to the WVS centre but she had to do something. She thrust the bottle back in case James came in while she was getting ready to go out.

She was in the hall putting on her hat when she heard his key in the door. Checking up on her again, she thought, pasting a smile on her face as he came in.

‘Feeling better?’ he asked.

‘A little,’ she said. ‘I have to go to the shops.’

‘I’ll walk down the road with you.’

Louise smiled and picked up her handbag, cursing inwardly. She’d intended to show the tablets to Muriel. Now her friend would just have to take her word for it.

James waited while she went into the grocer’s and insisted on carrying her shopping bag. As they walked up the High Street they saw several acquaintances. James greeted them politely, raising his hat and answering for her when enquiries were made about her health.

She bit her lip. Who, seeing how solicitously he cared for her, would believe he was systematically trying to poison her, or at the very least, send her mad? As they neared his office, she stopped and held out her hand for the bag. ‘I’m all right now, James. I think the fresh air has done me good. You must have lots of work to do so I’ll let you get on.’

‘Are you sure? I was going to see you home.’

‘I thought I’d pop into the WVS centre first.’

James frowned. ‘I think you’ll be better at home. You mustn’t overdo it.’ He took her arm and almost dragged her along the street. Unless she made a scene, she had no choice but to follow.

He stayed with her for the rest of the day, hovering over her while she ate or drank with every appearance of concern for her health. She couldn’t refuse the food he prepared without arousing his suspicions.

As she fell into an exhausted and, she was sure, drugged sleep she wondered why he didn’t just finish her off. Did he hate her so much that he preferred to torture her like this?

She dreamed about Sarah again and woke with her sister’s name on her lips. Had that last letter reached her yet? Knowing Sarah, she’d probably laugh off her fears. Besides, what could she do from so far away?

Sarah’s career was blossoming and she was happier than she’d ever been. She was in love – really in love this time. Greg Lacey was everything she wanted in a man. He wasn’t an actor, jealous of every close-up which might eclipse him; he wasn’t a director manipulating her for his own ends; he wasn’t a rich man trying to buy her affection. He was just Greg – passably good-looking, quiet, unassuming and a brilliant pianist. When she’d given up the silver screen to go to Burma and entertain the troops, he’d come too as her accompanist.

But she hadn’t forgotten her sister. She’d written singing Greg’s praises, bubbling over with excitement at the new direction her life had taken. She was deeply hurt that Louise hadn’t replied. It was more than a year since she’d heard anything.

‘I don’t care,’ she told Greg when once again the postbag brought nothing for her. ‘She’s probably jealous of my success.’

‘Sweetheart. I’m sure you’re wrong,’ Greg said. ‘Didn’t you tell me you were always close, that she always looked out for you and encouraged you in your singing?’ He stroked her hair and held her close. ‘Don’t fret, honey. I’m sure you’ll hear soon. There’s probably a letter on its way right now. You know how the post gets held up – and we’ve been moving around a lot.’

Sarah sniffed. ‘I expect you’re right. I just miss her so much, you know. It’s nearly five years since I saw her. And I worry about her too.’

Greg laughed. ‘Now you sound like the big sister. What’s to worry about? She’s got a husband to take care of her and from what you say, that little town isn’t going to be a prime target for Hitler’s bombs.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘I still worry. You’ve seen the newsreels – how people back home are struggling with the rationing and everything. Besides, I don’t like her husband and I think she’s unhappy. The last letter I had – ages ago now – really upset me.’

‘I thought she got married after you left England.’

‘She did and I wish I’d been there to stop her. James was a bully – always teasing the younger ones at infant school. Being the son of my dad’s partner we used to see quite a bit of him until he went away to boarding-school.’ Sarah sighed. ‘I just hope I’m wrong and that he’s grown up and become more responsible.’

‘Well, you’ll be able to see for yourself soon. When this tour ends you’ll go back to England.’ He kissed her and gave a wry smile. ‘And I’ll be with you, honey. I’m not letting you get away.’

Sarah laughed, her worries over her sister temporarily forgotten as she melted into his embrace.

Some time later Greg sat up with a muttered exclamation. ‘Time for the show. Come on, Sarah, get dressed.’

Half an hour later she was on the makeshift stage, surrounded by cheering soldiers. Greg, seated at the piano, looked over his shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile. But she needed no encouragement. From the first note she was entranced and her audience was too. She sang all the old favourites, ending with
Wait for me Darling
, a song of love, hope and longing for home that Greg had written specially for her.

She didn’t think about Louise at all until the next postbag arrived. Two letters. She tore them open and skimmed though the pages, her heart thumping furiously. What was going on?

Greg found her slumped on her bunk, her face streaked with tears. ‘I’ve got to go home,’ she whispered, holding out the crumpled sheets of paper. ‘Louise needs me.’

J
ames was becoming impatient. He hadn’t confronted Louise with her lie, hoping that David Webster would accept her forged signature to the deed of conveyance; he was becoming quite adept at signing her name as well as Sarah’s. But the solicitor had insisted that he speak to Louise before agreeing to proceed. He couldn’t see the urgency and wanted to wait until she was well again.

‘There’s no need to disturb Mrs Spencer while she’s ill,’ he said.

James knew that if Louise was in her right mind she’d never agree to selling the house. And he couldn’t ask the solicitor to call. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see the state she was in, worse still for Louise to start babbling.

But he had to do something. The ministry needed accommodation and they would go elsewhere if Steyne House wasn’t available. As James left Webster’s office, an idea occurred to him and, instead of turning for home, he walked briskly to the railway station. He’d just recalled meeting a
solicitor
at the gambling club in Brighton. Perhaps he would be more amenable.

Sarah was on her way home and, as the train pulled into Brighton Station, she was becoming frustrated at the disruption to the trains which meant changing there and then getting a slow train which stopped at every station along the coast.

Although she’d hardly given a thought to her old life in Holton since setting sail on the
Queen Mary
almost five years ago, she couldn’t wait to get home now. As she grabbed her suitcase and hurried over to the next platform, she sighed with impatience. As soon as she’d read Louise’s last letter, she’d known something was dreadfully wrong. Then there was the puzzle of the forms which Louise said needed her signature. Even when Greg had explained, she was still confused. There was something funny going on. And why did Louise want to sell the house anyway?

She hadn’t told her sister she was coming and had booked into a small hotel at the other end of the esplanade from Steyne House. How she wished Greg was with her. She missed him already. As she boarded the packed train and forced her way along the corridor in search of a seat, the train lurched, banging her suitcase against her shin.

‘Here, let me.’ Someone grabbed the case and opened the door of the compartment. The man heaved the case up onto the rack and sat down. Sarah had no choice but to sit beside him. She glanced sideways at his
handsome
profile and he turned to smile at her.

‘Is your journey really necessary?’ he said, showing white teeth in a grin and pointing to the poster above their heads.

If she hadn’t been so worried about Louise, she’d have laughed. But today her thoughts were with her sister. Had she seriously been suggesting that her husband was poisoning her? But then there’d been that bit at the end, saying she was mistaken and that it was all the product of a mind confused by illness.

Sarah had been tempted to laugh it off. But something had nagged away at the back of her mind. It was true she’d never liked James and had been dismayed when she learned that Louise had married him. But, she’d firmly told herself, it was her choice. Hadn’t she herself made mistakes over men in the past?

The train lurched again, throwing her against the man who’d helped with her suitcase. There were resigned sighs from the other passengers as the train slowed to a stop.

The man turned to her. ‘I’d say no one whose journey wasn’t necessary would put up with this. We’ll probably be stuck here for hours.’

A woman in a WAAF uniform leaned forward. ‘There is a war on, young man. Troop movements are more important than whatever your business may be.’ Her look said that she wondered why he wasn’t in uniform.

The man just grinned and tapped the side of his nose. ‘You’ll never know,’ he said.

The WAAF disappeared behind a newspaper and the man turned to Sarah. ‘Going far?’ he asked.

‘Just to Holton.’

‘Me too. Business or pleasure?’

Sarah hesitated. ‘Pleasure, I suppose.’ He seemed nice enough but she wasn’t about to reveal her life story.

He looked out of the train window. ‘Looks like we’ll be stuck here for hours. Plenty of time for us to get to know each other – I hope. Lucky me to have such a lovely travelling companion.’ He lowered his voice and jerked his head in the direction of the WAAF who still seemed immersed in her newspaper. ‘I could have been stuck with….’

Sarah couldn’t help giggling.

He stuck out his hand for her to shake. ‘I’m Jim. I live in Holton, been to Brighton on business.’

Sarah looked more closely at him, her eyes widening in recognition. But it had been nearly five years since she’d last seen him. So this was her sister’s husband, flirting on a train with a total stranger. She shouldn’t encourage him. Nevertheless, she smiled and said, ‘Sally.’ For some reason she was reluctant to let him know who she was or that she’d recognized him.

‘Well, Sally, what brings you to a sleepy little place like Holton Regis?’

‘I’m on leave,’ she told him. ‘I just felt like having a few restful days by the sea.’ Although she wasn’t in uniform she managed during the course of their conversation to convey that she’d been doing war work in London.

She wasn’t the only one telling half truths. James, while hinting that his work was so secret that he couldn’t tell her anything, made himself out to be something of a hero. She smiled to herself, picturing his reaction when he realized who she was.

The train started up again and steamed into Worthing where the WAAF and the other passengers got out. Alone in the carriage, James moved closer to her and took her hand.

Sarah smiled, wondering how far he’d go. She didn’t mind a little
flirtation
but when his hands started to wander she slapped them away. He didn’t seem in the least put out, laughing and holding up his hands in surrender. ‘I know; we’ve only just met. But seriously, Sally my dear, I’d like to get to know you better. How about a drink at your hotel later on – say eight o’clock?’

She gave him a teasing smile and agreed, knowing that by then she’d have seen Louise and exposed ‘Jim’ for the cad he was.

James took the girl’s case down from the rack and insisted on carrying it to the hotel for her. As he said goodbye he was looking forward to their
assignation
later on. But first, there was something he had to do.

Flirting with the girl on the train had taken his mind off things for a while. But now, he seethed with anger as he recalled his meeting with the man he’d thought of as a friend. The chap had refused point blank to help him. His answer had been the same as David Webster’s: a signature wasn’t enough. He had to meet Louise in person and have her assurance that she agreed to selling the house. ‘I don’t know your wife, James,’ he’d said. ‘In fact for all these months we’ve been playing poker together you’ve never once mentioned the fact that you even had a wife.’

James had been furious. ‘Are you implying something?’

‘Of course not. It’s just that in my business, I like to be sure everything’s above board.’

James had managed to stay calm, to reassure his friend that he
understood
. But as he strode towards the station he was fuming. While he waited for the train he calmed down and, with cold clarity he knew what he had to do. Louise had been depressed for months. No one, including that old buffer Tate, would be surprised if she took an overdose of sleeping tablets.

Once he’d made the decision his mood lightened. Flirting with Sally had taken his mind off what he planned to do.

Muriel was concerned about Louise and had telephoned several times. But it was always her husband who answered.

She’d never liked James Spencer and, even before Stanley Charlton’s death, she’d been suspicious that he was defrauding the business. How she wished she’d conveyed her suspicions to Louise before she’d married the man. Now, she wondered why he was so keen to keep her friends away, fobbing her off with the excuse that Louise was too ill for visitors.

She knew that wasn’t true. Mrs Wilson had said she’d seen Louise out with her husband a few days before.

‘He told me she was ill,’ Muriel said.

‘Well, she was a little pale and holding on to her husband’s arm. But she must be better if she’s out and about,’ Mrs Wilson said. ‘I do hope she’ll soon be back on duty. We need an extra pair of hands.’

‘I’ll pop round to see her later on,’ Muriel said.

When her shift was over, Muriel walked round to Steyne House, hoping that James would still be at the office. There was no answer to her knock and she went round the side of the house, hoping to find a door or window open. She wasn’t going to give up until she knew her friend was all right.

She tried the back door but it was firmly bolted. Looking through the kitchen window she saw that the draining board was piled high with dirty crockery, the remains of a meal on the table in the centre of the room. That wasn’t like Louise, she thought. Perhaps she really was ill.

Muriel turned to leave but something made her hesitate and she knocked on the front door again. Still no answer. The curtains were drawn across the bay window but there was a small gap. Peering through it, she saw Louise lying on the sofa. She decided not to disturb her but then she gasped as Louise groaned and one hand flopped down to dangle over the edge of the sofa.

Muriel bit her knuckles, unsure what to do. It didn’t look like natural sleep. ‘Louise, wake up,’ she shouted, banging on the window. Her friend didn’t stir.

‘Phone box,’ Muriel muttered, dashing to the end of the road, only to find she had no change. She looked round wildly, but there was no one in sight. She remembered that Dr Tate lived only a couple of streets away and she began to run, praying that he was home.

Louise struggled to sit up, closing her eyes against the pain in her head. She was going to be sick. There was a sour taste in her mouth and a smell of alcohol in the air. A voice murmured in her ear. ‘My love, wake up, please….’

Strong arms enfolded her and, as memory returned, she fought against them. ‘No, please don’t make me,’ she cried.

Gentle hands stroked her hair and at last she recognized the reassuring voice. ‘Andrew,’ she whispered. ‘How did you…?’

‘Your friend fetched me. She was worried about you. Thank God I was there when she called.’ There was sob in his voice. ‘I got here just in time.’

Louise sat up and pushed him away. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she said. She looked round wildly. ‘James might come back. He mustn’t find you here.’

Andrew caught her hands. ‘He can’t hurt you now. We know what he tried to do. It’s a good job he forced you to drink the whisky as well. That’s what made you sick. The pills didn’t have a chance to work.’

Muriel spoke from the corner of the room where she’d been rinsing a cloth in a basin of water. ‘You were semi-conscious when we arrived, muttering and moaning. We were able to make out what had happened.’

Louise looked into Andrew’s eyes. ‘You believe me then?’

He nodded and pressed her hands to his lips. ‘He wanted people to think….’

‘I would never have believed it, however convincing he was,’ Muriel said. ‘I never did trust that man, even when he was a lad. Sly, deceitful….’ She shrugged. ‘Sorry, I know he’s your husband.’ She picked up the basin and left the room.

Louise shook her head. ‘She’s right. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize….’

Andrew was about to say something when there was a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be the police,’ he said, standing up. When Louise gasped he said, ‘We had to call them. He tried to kill you.’

The door was flung open and Sarah burst in. ‘Kill – did you say kill?’ she shrieked. She threw herself into Louise’s arms and burst into tears. ‘I knew there was something wrong. Oh, Lou, please tell me you’re OK. Why didn’t I come home sooner? I’m sorry, so sorry.’

Now it was Louise’s turn to offer comfort. ‘It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.’

In the midst of the tearful reunion a police sergeant arrived accompanied by a constable. While Muriel and Andrew gave their statements, Sarah went into the kitchen to clear up, saying there would be plenty of time to talk when everyone had gone.

James paced up and down his office, glancing from time to time at his watch. Had the drugs taken effect yet? After leaving Sally, he’d gone home and found Louise resting on the sofa in the drawing room. It had been hard to force her to drink the whisky laced with the sleeping pills. He’d left the glass and pill bottle on the side table, spilled a few of tablets on the floor and then returned to the office. He glanced at his watch again and the
enormity
of what he’d done suddenly hit him. Keeping her sedated so that she was confused and amenable was one thing. Murder was quite another. Was it too late to change his mind?

No, he had to go through with it. He needed that money – and he needed a drink too. He grabbed his hat and rushed along to the Red Lion. The
landlord
knew him well and had his glass on the bar before he could ask for his usual.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to make small talk, reflecting that he might need an alibi later. He finished the drink and banged the glass down for another but the landlord shook his head. ‘Sorry, Mr Spencer, no more spirits. You can have a beer.’

James shook his head. He needed whisky. Perhaps he could get one at the Esplanade Hotel, he thought. Who knows, he might bump into the gorgeous Sally while he was there. Why shouldn’t he have a little fun? He’d be playing the grieving widower soon enough and there’d be no chance of fun for a while.

He left the pub and strode along, deep in thought, wondering how soon he could force the house sale and get his hands on the money. Steyne House was on the way to the hotel and he was tempted to check on Louise. No, he thought, better keep away for a bit longer.

As he walked past he noticed that the front door was ajar. Surely he’d locked it when he’d left earlier. He stepped into the hall and put his hand on the drawing-room door. His stomach lurched as he heard voices and he hesitated, schooling his face to register shock, concern, grief.