Love or Duty (7 page)

Maybe she would ask her father if she could help in the office. Dora would be horrified of course, but it was worth a try.

After so many years of marriage, Dora had had enough of wedded bliss. She was quite fond of Stanley of course and it was true he was a good provider. But her marriage hadn’t turned out quite the way she’d hoped.

Of course, she had Sarah – she was very proud of her daughter. And even having a stepdaughter hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared. Louise was placid and dutiful, always anxious to please. And she had been a godsend lately, taking over the household and freeing her to chaperon Sarah to her concerts. But Dora was becoming disenchanted with her daughter’s career. At first she’d had visions of sharing the glory, accompanying Sarah at the piano. But after her humiliation at the BBC producer’s hands, she hadn’t raised the subject again. Instead she had thrown herself into organizing Sarah’s engagements, at least until the advent of Maurice Weeks. The man was insufferable – always thinking he knew best. But at least he knew about the financial side of things. Sarah was accumulating a nice little nest egg which would do nicely as a temptation when it came to her daughter’s marriage.

The girl was going to need it, if what Dora feared was true. It seemed Stanley wasn’t quite as well off as she’d thought. In the early days of their marriage he had never mentioned money. But they lived well and he never refused her anything – not often anyway. But when she’d expressed the desire to move inland to Chichester, to leave this draughty Victorian monstrosity, with the ever present seaborne wind howling round its gothic turrets, he’d been quite firm.

Dora sighed, picturing herself in one of those elegant Georgian houses behind the main shopping centre, mixing with the cathedral set. Her church work and her friendship with the Reverend Ayling would surely be
recommendation
enough. Dora could see herself on the cathedral flower rota, maybe on the committee which ran the ancient almshouses connected with the church.

Her attendance at a garden party in the Bishop’s Palace garden back in the summer had reawakened her ambitions and, as she sipped her
pre-dinner
sherry she contemplated raising the subject with Stanley again. But then he’d only get cross and upset her and that would bring on one of her blinding headaches. Dora frowned. Stanley seemed to get cross more often lately. In a way she could understand him not wanting to move away from the house his grandfather had built. He was a great one for tradition. But hadn’t he promised her when they married that he would do everything possible to make her happy?

She took another sip from her glass and looked at her husband. For the first time she noticed that he wasn’t looking at all well. There were lines on his forehead that hadn’t been there until recently, and his thick dark hair and moustache were sprinkled with grey. A cold finger of apprehension touched her as she recalled the financial problems he had mentioned a few months before. But surely everything was all right now. At least he hadn’t said anything lately. Although they’d never got around to replacing Cook after her accident, she hadn’t bothered him about it because Louise seemed to be managing so well – at least until today.

It really was too much for her to have to worry about everything, she thought with a discontented sigh. And with Sarah’s concert coming up she would be far too busy to deal with the household. It was no use; they would have to get another cook.

She turned to Stanley to say so but the door opened and Polly, wringing her hands and stammering in that irritating way, announced that dinner was served. Maybe they should get another maid too, Dora thought.

By the time they sat down for their meal Louise was feeling calmer. When her father told her the casserole was almost as good as Cookie’s, she couldn’t help a glow of pride. She
had
been trying hard after all and it was nice to be appreciated. Those visits to Cookie’s little cottage in the nearby village of East Holton were starting to bear fruit. Louise thought it was very kind of the old lady to share the expertise gained over many years of working for her family.

But before she could say anything Dora spoke. ‘I know Louise is managing very well,’ she said condescendingly, ‘but, Stanley dear, it is most unfair to expect a young lady of good family to be doing such menial work. It was acceptable as a temporary measure and I’m sure we were very grateful for the way she coped after Cook’s unfortunate accident….’

Stanley opened his mouth to speak, but Dora carried on without pause. ‘… But that was over a year ago. Once we learned that Cook would be unable to carry on working we really should have taken on another one.’

With a clatter Stanley laid his knife and fork on the plate. Louise looked up in alarm as for once her father spoke sharply to his wife. ‘I thought I had already explained that it is completely out of the question. Don’t you ever listen to anything I say?’

Dora gasped and put a hand to her white face. ‘Stanley!’ she exclaimed. Then clutching her head she pushed her chair back noisily and stumbled from the room.

Stanley followed her, leaving the food which Louise had worked so hard to perfect, congealing on the plate. She looked up and saw that her sister’s eyes had filled with tears. It was seldom that their parents openly quarrelled and Sarah was usually so taken up with her ambitions that she never seemed to notice the undercurrent of tension that was so often present these days.

‘Why is Father in such a bad mood?’ Sarah asked. ‘He hardly said anything about my concert.’

‘I think he has things on his mind,’ Louise said.

‘Oh, business.’ Sarah’s voice was offhand.

‘Yes, business,’ Louise said sharply. ‘And if it wasn’t for business, where do you think all the new dresses and trips to London would come from?’

Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise and once more her eyes filled with tears. ‘Now you’re being horrid as well. I don’t know what’s the matter with everybody.’ And she too jumped up from her chair and rushed from the room.

When Polly came in a few minutes later to ask if she should serve the pudding, Louise was sitting with her chin resting on her hands, surveying the plates of half-eaten food. It was an effort not to snap at the maid but it wasn’t poor Polly’s fault. She told her quietly to clear the table and got up to help her. ‘It seems nobody’s hungry today,’ she said with an attempt at a laugh.

When she too had gone to her room, after spending a little time with Sarah and smoothing her ruffled feelings, Louise had time to think about what her father had told her earlier. The Winter Gardens, with its theatre and dance hall was losing money. When it first opened it had been a popular
attraction
for the summer visitors. But this year, the rumours of war and the uncertainty of the political situation seemed to have put people off coming.

Stanley, along with other businessmen in the town, had invested in the venture at the very beginning and had hoped for a substantial return on their investment. William Spencer had put in more than anyone else and so had more to lose. Stanley didn’t really suspect his partner of any crooked dealing but, as he’d confided to Louise, it seemed too much of a coincidence that the firm’s losses had begun just when William was starting to feel the pinch.

‘I think I’ll get old Jones to go through the books again,’ Stanley had said. The accountant was an old friend who could be relied on not to make a scandal if anything was out of order.

‘I’m sure you’ll find it’s just a mistake,’ Louise had said, trying to comfort her father. She liked Mr Spencer and didn’t want to think ill of him either.

As she got ready for bed Louise wished she’d brought up the subject of working in the office. But with all the tensions in the family at the moment, not to mention that she really was needed at home now, it hardly seemed the right time.

Usually, the sound of the waves caressing the shingle soothed her to sleep in no time. But tonight the seeds of discontent that were growing in her would not allow her to settle. She turned over in bed, trying to get
comfortable 
and reflected that if she’d married they would have to do without her. Not much chance of that now, she thought with a sigh. But surely marriage wasn’t the only means of escape. She thought of Sarah, who was growing up into a real beauty. She would have no shortage of suitors. But she wouldn’t need them. She had her talent – and with that she could do anything she wanted. Not for the first time, Louise felt a twinge of envy. She didn’t begrudge Sarah her success. She just wished she had a comparable talent to give her own life more meaning.

Sarah was finding it hard to sleep too, regretting the way she’d snapped at her sister. Poor Louise had such a lot to put up with, what with having to spend most of her time in the kitchen, as well as having to cope with Mother’s sulks and tantrums. Thank goodness she had her rehearsals and singing lessons.

Singing was her lifeline. She didn’t know what she’d do if she had to live the sort of humdrum life her sister did. Imagine living all your life expecting to get married – as if that was the only thing that mattered – then getting to an age when you realized it wasn’t going to happen. Imagine ending up like old Miss Bunyan, spending your life doing ‘good works’, then getting so old that you became a ‘good work’ yourself, depending on others to invite you to Sunday dinner or sit and talk to you when they’d rather be doing something else.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen to her. She was going to have a wonderful life full of music and fun. Of course she might fall in love and get married one day. But whoever he turned out to be, her husband would be made to realize that her singing came first.

T
he concert at the Albert Hall was a resounding success. Only Dora and Stanley could go, for tickets were limited. But it was also broadcast on the wireless so Louise and Polly sat together, listening entranced. When the applause rang out after Sarah’s song, they hugged each other and danced round the kitchen.

For a while, Louise was able to forget her own discontent and revel in her sister’s success.

A few days later they were seated at the breakfast table when the post arrived. Dora opened her letter and let out a gasp. It was from Sarah’s agent, Maurice Weeks, offering her a part in a musical version of
Little Women.

‘They want her to play the youngest sister, Amy,’ she said.

Sarah let out a squeal and leapt up, rushing round the table to snatch the letter from her mother. ‘When, where?’ she demanded. Without waiting for a reply she sank into a chair and began to read, her face flushed.

Louise smiled patiently, knowing that Sarah would share the details in her own time. She glanced at her father who was reading his own post, seemingly unaware of his other daughter’s excitement.

Sarah noticed too and jumped up again, throwing her arms round her father’s neck. ‘Did you hear, Father? Miss Lane is going to play Jo and I’m to be Amy.’

Before he could reply, Louise said, ‘You mean Lucia Lane?’

Sarah nodded. ‘She’s wonderful, I’ll learn such a lot from her.’

Stanley only half listened as he read his own letter, a stern demand that he settle his bill immediately. He clutched at his chest as pain speared him. Just a touch of indigestion, he told himself, managing to keep his smile firmly in place as Sarah prattled on. It was only natural that she should be excited about the prospect of performing alongside the great Lucia Lane.

‘I’m sure you’ll do splendidly, my dear,’ he said. At least there was one less thing for him to worry about now. Sarah’s voice was her fortune. She was already making money and with careful investment, overseen by Jones, his accountant, she should never want for anything. Dora would be well provided for too. A handsome insurance policy would take care of that.

He took a sip of his coffee, his mind now on Louise. What future was there for his elder daughter? Things should be getting better now since Charlton and Spencer were building more new houses. The estate agency side of the business had expanded too since young James Spencer had taken over. But just lately the houses they owned and rented out seemed to need so many repairs and the costs were outweighing the rents they received.

Worst of all, Stanley was still suffering from the failure of the ambitious Winter Gardens project. Far from putting Holton Regis on the map as a desirable resort, the place had become a white elephant, its buildings boarded up and neglected. Only the dance hall remained open, attracting a most undesirable element as young men from the nearby RAF station flocked into town on Saturday nights to get drunk and force their attentions on the local girls. At least that’s how Dora saw it – and she had a way of putting her point of view over at parish meetings so that poor old Mr Ayling had been forced to take notice and write a strong letter to the station’s commander. But, as Louise pointed out, these lads were far from home and needed somewhere to go in their off-duty hours.

Poor Louise, Stanley thought. She should be out dancing herself, not stuck in this rambling old house seeing to the imagined needs of an increasingly querulous stepmother. Once again the pain struck and with it the panic, as Stanley wondered once more what he could do for his beloved daughter. At least she would have the house; it was only Dora’s for her lifetime. And in its prime position on the seafront, with its large gardens, it would be a good investment for somebody if Louise chose to sell it.

He fumbled for one of his tablets and surreptitiously slipped it under his tongue, waiting for it to dissolve and take the pain with it. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, wishing once more that Louise had been a son. Then he would have no fears for her future.

That night, Louise couldn’t sleep. She and Sarah had sat up late talking excitedly about the audition for the musical. Louise was sure her sister would get the part and she was thrilled for her despite the small twinge of envy. Lying in her bed wondering what the future held for her, she was aroused by a commotion in the street outside – running footsteps, shouts, followed by banging on the front door. Struggling into her dressing-gown she hurried out on to the landing.

Her father was already downstairs wrestling with the bolts on the front door as the voice outside grew more frantic. ‘Mr Charlton – there’s a fire.’

Dora’s breathless gasp and Polly’s frightened wails prevented Louise from hearing what exactly was amiss. By the time she had ascertained that the fire was nowhere near Steyne House and persuaded her stepmother to return to bed, Stanley had disappeared into the night.

She knew there would be no sleep for her now and she asked Polly to make some cocoa. Giving her something to do was the best thing whenever there was a crisis. Sarah, who had joined them on the landing, eyes wide with excitement, followed Louise down to the kitchen.

‘I’m sure I can smell smoke,’ she said, pulling the curtain aside and peering out.

‘Maybe, but the fire is further along the esplanade – one of the hotels I expect. We’re in no danger here – the wind’s in the wrong direction,’ Louise said.

‘Why did they want Father?’ Sarah asked.

‘Well, he is on the town council and chairman of the fire committee.’

‘I don’t see what they expect him to do. Couldn’t they wait till the morning to let him know what happened?’ Sarah yawned. ‘I’m going back to bed. It’s not as if they’d let us anywhere near so we can see the
excitement
.’

Louise tutted in exasperation. Sarah could be so insensitive at times. Some poor soul could be losing their home or their livelihood. But it was true, there was nothing they could do. She asked Polly to take a drink up to her stepmother. ‘Then you’d better get back to bed too,’ she told her.

‘What about the master?’ Polly asked.

‘I’ll wait up for him and make him a hot drink when he returns. It’s a cold night – I hope he’s not gone too long.’

They shouldn’t have expected him to go out on a night like this, she thought as she sat in Cookie’s old rocking chair in front of the kitchen range. The warmth of the fire was sending her to sleep and she jumped as the door opened.

Her father’s exhausted body drooped and he grabbed at the door jamb for support. He ran a hand over his face and Louise leapt up and took his arm, helping him to the chair she had just vacated. As she busied herself with hot milk and cocoa powder, she caught the smell of smoke on his jacket. His shoes were wet and she knelt to take them off, then hurried to the hall cupboard for his slippers.

The milk boiled and she quickly made the cocoa. He clasped his cold hands round the mug and took a grateful sip. Only then did he look up at her, his expression bleak.

‘William’s dead,’ he said, his voice a mere croak.

‘William – Mr Spencer? It was his house on fire then?’

‘No, no – not his house.’ Stanley took another sip of cocoa and gave a long shuddering sigh.

The office, then. It must have been the office, Louise thought. That’s why they called for Father. But Stanley was speaking again, his voice low and husky. ‘It was the theatre – that’s where they think it started. Then it spread to the restaurant….’ He looked up at her. ‘They managed to save the dance hall but the rest is a ruin.’

‘What happened to Mr Spencer then?’

‘He thought he saw someone in one of the buildings – dashed in before anyone could stop him. One of the firemen brought him out – overcome by the smoke they said – not burnt.’

‘Oh, Father. I’m so sorry. He was your oldest friend.’

‘Poor old William – we’d had our differences lately, with the business and all. But I’ll miss him. God knows what will happen now.’ Stanley finished his cocoa and stood up. ‘I’d better go up and tell Dora what’s happened,’ he said.

‘I expect she’s sleeping. She was in such a state – I got Polly to give her a sleeping pill,’ Louise said.

Stanley touched her cheek. ‘What would we all do without you to take care of us?’ he said.

Sarah hardly stopped chattering at breakfast, pestering her father for details about the fire and seeming not to notice how ill he looked. Dora of course was still in bed.

At last Louise could bear it no longer and she spoke quite sharply to her sister. ‘For goodness’ sake, Sarah, shut up. Can’t you see poor Father’s exhausted? He was up half the night.’

Sarah had the grace to look ashamed and concentrated for a few minutes on her boiled egg. But she wasn’t subdued for long. ‘Can we go and look later on?’ she asked.

‘Don’t be so morbid,’ Louise snapped, although truth to tell she was curious to see the extent of the damage for herself. What effect would the disaster have on Father’s business, she wondered. He had been part-owner of the Winter Gardens. She was sure it wasn’t only the loss of his friend that was troubling him.

Louise agreed that they should walk along the seafront later on, but only if the weather let up. The rain, which had started during the night, was still falling and they could hear the waves pounding against the promenade.

‘Will you go to the office, Father?’ Louise asked. He didn’t usually go in on a Saturday unless there was urgent business to attend to.

‘I suppose I ought to – there will be things to do, the insurance and so on.’ Stanley ran his hand over his face and sighed. He had hardly eaten anything.

‘If there’s anything I can do to help, Father….’

‘Just keep things running smoothly here – as you always do, my dear,’ Stanley said.

Polly came to clear the breakfast and Louise followed her to the kitchen after sending Sarah to tidy her room. There were a few sulks but in the end Sarah did as she was told, but only after Louise promised they would go out as soon as it was done.

Once the chores were finished the sisters, muffled up against the weather, strode along the esplanade towards the Winter Gardens – or all that remained of the place where Sarah had enjoyed her first singing triumph.

A small crowd huddled against the cold wind just inside the gates watching the firemen picking over the blackened ruins. The fire must have been extremely fierce as, despite the heavy rain, a curl of smoke still rose from the centre of a pile of charred timbers.

Sarah listened to the murmured speculation going on around her.

‘… Could have been one of those young air force lads dropping a
cigarette
that started it off….’

‘No, no. They say it started in the theatre, not the dance hall.’

‘Impossible. It was all boarded up.’

‘A tramp then – crept in there to shelter from the rain.’

‘That sounds more like it – started a fire to keep warm and it got out of control.’

‘You mean to say poor old Mr Spencer lost his life trying to save a tramp?’

‘There weren’t nobody else in there, though. ’Twas only Mr Spencer’s body they found.’

Louise couldn’t listen to any more. She grabbed Sarah’s arm and hustled her away, despite her protests.

‘Do you think it’s right what they’re saying – a tramp started the fire?’ Sarah asked as they battled against the wind towards Steyne House.

Louise didn’t answer. She was wondering what the disaster would mean for their family. Could Stanley carry on without William? There was James of course, but, from the little her father had said, she wasn’t sure if he could fill his father’s shoes. Although the young man had a certain charm and was adept at dealing with their clients, he was lazy and incompetent, and Stanley had recently confided that he did not share William’s confidence in his son.

Now more than ever she wished she’d insisted on being allowed to learn more about the business.

Her concerns deepened when they reached the house and saw Stanley’s car parked in the street outside. Surely he had left for the office earlier?

Sarah went into the kitchen to ask Polly for hot chocolate to warm them after their walk, while Louise, without even taking off her coat, entered the study. Her father was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, while Dora stood by the window clutching a sodden handkerchief.

Father must have told her the news then, Louise thought. But it was more than the death of his partner troubling him as she realized when he raised his head to look at her with bleak eyes. ‘They practically accused me of starting the fire,’ he said. ‘How could they even think such a thing?’

Dora gave a little cry, then sank into a chair sobbing. ‘Oh, the shame of it….’

Louise ignored her and put a comforting arm around her father. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

In a halting voice Stanley explained that he had gone to the office to find James already there, the insurance certificate in his hand. ‘And his own father scarcely cold….’

Stanley had snatched it away angrily and had been soundly castigating the young man when the police arrived. The inspector’s glance had been cold as he saw the file clearly marked ‘Insurance’ open on his desk, the certificate in his hand.

Their questioning had been polite but firm. It was quite clear where their suspicions lay. Why had William Spencer been on the scene so quickly? He or an accomplice must have set the fire and both partners in the firm of Charlton and Spencer stood to gain by it.

‘They seem to think that when William saw the tramp, or whoever it was, his conscience struck him and he rushed in to prevent an even worse disaster. I just can’t believe it of William,’ Stanley whispered brokenly, his head in his hands once more.

‘And I’m sure no one else will either,’ Louise declared.

‘But they think I was involved as well.’

‘What nonsense! You’re one of the most respected men in this town – and look at all you’ve done for the community.’

‘Of course it’s nonsense, my dear. But even the most respectable men have been known to succumb to temptation when the stakes are high enough. And it’s well known that William and I have suffered financial
difficulties
recently.’