Love or Duty Page 21

  It was a week after the raid and Louise hadn’t had time to go and offer her services at the WVS centre. James had become even more demanding, coming home for lunch every day and insisting on a proper meal. It was almost as if he was trying to find a way to stop her doing anything that would take her away from what he insisted was her duty.

  When she tried to protest he said that he was worried about Dora and insinuated that she didn’t care about her stepmother. His cutting words struck a little close to home and increased her feelings of guilt. Certainly James’s concern seemed genuine. He always found time to sit with Dora for a few minutes before returning to the office. But she was beginning to think that making her feel guilty was James’s way of controlling her.

  She was putting clean towels in the bathroom and, as she passed Dora’s room she heard James say, ‘Would you really like to go? Are you sure you feel well enough?’

  Go where? Louise wondered. Dora hadn’t been outside the house for months. Curiosity overcame her and she entered the room. Dora looked up excitedly, holding up the local newspaper. ‘It’s Sarah’s film,’ she said. ‘It’s on at the Picturedrome this week. We must go and see it.’

  Louise took the paper and glanced at the advertisement for Guns at Midday. It was over a year since Sarah had told them she had a part but their little cinema didn’t get the latest films. ‘It’s a western,’ she said. ‘Do you think you’ll like it, Mother?’

  ‘I don’t care what it is. I can’t miss seeing my daughter, can I?’ She smiled. ‘A film star – my little Sarah.’

  ‘We’ll go this evening – all of us, ‘James said.

  What a dreadful film, Louise thought, shifting in her seat. How could Sarah lower herself to appear in such rubbish? It was all bar fights and shootouts and flashily dressed women egging them on. Normally she would have walked out but she had to admit she was curious to see her sister.

  Beside her, Dora gripped her arm as, on the screen, a voluptuous blonde descended the stairs in the saloon, swinging her hips and displaying a generous amount of cleavage. ‘Is that her? No, it can’t be. Where’s Sarah then?’

  Behind them a man uttered a loud ‘Shh’. He leaned forward and tapped Dora on the shoulder. ‘Do you mind? Some of us are trying to watch the film.’

  ‘But it’s my daughter. She’s a film star you know,’ Dora said.

  The man gave a derisive laugh.

  The film came to an end and, as everybody stood up to leave, Louise lingered, reading the cast list as it scrolled up the screen. But there was no mention of Sarah Charlton.

  As they strolled home, Dora gave voice to her disappointment. ‘I know she said it was a small part but how could we have missed her? Do you think she was one of those girls?’ She said the word with an expression of distaste.

  ‘Possibly,’ James said. ‘They do a lot with make-up. I think she was the dark-haired one with the cute little hat.’

  ‘But to play a part like that – my little Sarah who used to sing in church. I hope none of the church ladies see it. I couldn’t hold my head up.’

  Louise bit back a smile at the thought of Mrs Bennett or Mrs Howard sitting through a film like Guns at Midday. Besides, if any of those actresses had been her sister, no one in Holton would have recognized her.

  In their room later that evening James returned to the subject. ‘I don’t think your sister was in that film at all,’ he said. ‘She probably told you that so you’d think she was making a career out there in Hollywood. But if she was so successful we’d have heard. They puff up these new stars, you know.’

  Louise didn’t answer. She had a niggling suspicion he might be right. Was that why she hadn’t written lately? Poor Sarah. She’d gone out to America with such high hopes and, for a while, had enjoyed a successful run on Broadway. Why had she given up her singing to try to make it as an actress?

  James echoed her thoughts. ‘There’s probably a man at the bottom of it. She’s likely got herself a sugar daddy.’

  ‘I do hope you’re wrong. I hate to think of her in trouble or unhappy.’ Once again Louise thought how different her life could have been if she’d gone to America too. No James for a start. She frowned, brushing the thought away.

  ‘Don’t worry about her,’ James said, holding out his hand. ‘Come to bed.’

  As she climbed in beside him, he said, ‘That little brunette could have been Sarah. She was very pretty.’ He pulled her to him and nibbled her ear. ‘But not as pretty as you, darling.’ He leaned back and looked down at her. ‘You know, at one time I’d set my sights on your sister. But I realized she wasn’t for me – too fond of getting her own way. Not like you my darling, sweet, submissive Louise.’

  He kissed her and she tried not to pull away. Did he realize how cruel his words were? His hands grew urgent on her body and, as usual, she gave in to his demands. Yes, she was submissive but what choice did she have? Besides, there was always the hope that this time would result in what she longed for. She was convinced that a baby would make up for the disappointment her marriage had turned out to be.

  As James turned away from her and fell immediately into a deep sleep, Louise lay awake for hours, her mind a jumble of hope and prayer.

  Chapter Twenty

  1943

  Despite the disturbed nights due to more frequent air raids, Louise had been feeling much more cheerful these days. She couldn’t admit that knowing Andrew loved her had anything to do with it. She told herself it was because her life was so much fuller lately. She’d joined the WVS and enjoyed working with Muriel and Mrs Wilson, either sorting out donated clothing for the evacuees or manning the canteen, which had been set up for the Canadian servicemen who were in training on the sand dunes to the east of the town.

  There was another reason for her happiness – something she hadn’t dared to confide in anyone just yet. It was too soon to be sure and she’d been disappointed too often over the past couple of years.

  But, as she came out of the bathroom on this bitterly cold winter morning, she was fighting back the tears. Once more her hopes were dashed. It was still very early and she could have gone back to bed but she dreaded disturbing James. She hesitated at the top of the stairs. Perhaps she should go down and get the range going.

  Instead she climbed up to the room in the turret which had been her sanctuary as a child. She hadn’t been up there for months. Earlier in her marriage she had visualized this as a nursery. But years of disappointment had led to a slow acceptance that motherhood was not to be – until recently. This time had been different and she’d really begun to hope. Throughout the preparations for their meagre Christmas she kept to herself the secret thought that this time next year the festive season would have a real meaning for her. Christmas was for children after all. She would tell James on New Year’s Eve, she’d thought. A new year, a new beginning for them. They would be a proper family.

  But James hadn’t been home to see in the New Year with her and she and Dora had drunk a small glass of sherry in her stepmother’s room. James had said he was on fire watching duty but she didn’t believe him. He’d become more secretive of late, snapping at her when she asked what time he’d be home.

  Wait till I tell him my news, she’d thought, with a secret smile.

  But now, on this cold January dawn a week later, she was glad she hadn’t said anything. He would have looked at her accusingly as if it were her fault. She sat on the window seat and pulled the blackout curtain aside, clutching her abdomen as another cramp attacked her.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and she gazed out at the heaving grey sea breaking against the concrete tank traps on the beach. As the sky lightened she could make out the machine gun post near the bandstand, the men huddled inside their coats.

  She shivered and pulled her dressing gown closely around her. She should go down and light the range. Dora would be ringing her bell any minute and James would want hot water for shaving. But still she didn’t move, reliving happier days when she would sit
up here looking out for her father on his way home from work; days when they would walk along the beach picking up shells and odd-shaped stones; days when she and Sarah would play together on the stretch of sand left by the receding tide.

  The tears fell faster as she thought of her sister. Why didn’t she answer her letters? The post might be erratic these days but surely one at least should have got through. It had been months since she’d received the last one, but she still wrote every week, hoping that one day she’d hear from her. ‘Sarah, why did you have to go away?’ she murmured.

  She stood up with a sigh, taking one last look out of the window. A figure was striding along the promenade, head down against the wind. For a heart-stopping moment she thought it was Andrew. Was he back in Holton? The man turned as a small dog came bounding up behind him. He bent to clip on the dog’s lead and Louise saw that it was nothing like Andrew. She shouldn’t be thinking about him anyway.

  With a determined set to her shoulders she went downstairs. By the time James came down she had coaxed the range into life and was busy preparing breakfast. She finished laying Dora’s tray as James sat at the table without a word and began to eat.

  Upstairs, she helped Dora to sit up and placed the tray across her knees.

  ‘Did you sleep well, Mother?’ she asked.

  ‘I did, dear. Those new tablets work wonders.’ She picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. ‘What about you, Louise? You’ve been looking pleased with yourself lately. I thought you might have some good news for me.’ She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you – you’re not going to be a grandmother just yet.’ If ever, she added silently.

  ‘But I thought….’

  ‘False alarm,’ Louise said, her voice almost breaking.

  ‘Perhaps you ought to talk to the doctor,’ Dora said.

  Louise didn’t answer, busying herself with tidying the room. She noticed that the bottle of pills was on the bedside table. Surely she’d put them away last night?

  James finished eating and wiped his mouth on his napkin. He stood up and went to the bottom of the stairs, listening. A faint murmur of voices came to him and he shrugged, putting on his coat and cramming his hat on. So, the old girl hadn’t taken the bait. Not this time anyway.

  He picked up his briefcase and opened the front door. ‘Just off, dear,’ he called up the stairs and set off down the front path.

  A few doors away a neighbour was taking in the milk. James smiled, touching the brim of his hat. ‘Another cold one,’ he said. But inside he was seething. It still rankled – the fact that they couldn’t sell the house. How could he have made such a stupid mistake, assuming that Louise owned it? Why hadn’t she mentioned the condition of looking after her stepmother. But putting the old girl in a nursing home was looking after her, surely. He’d tried sweet talking Dora but she could be stubborn too.

  It was after the argument with Louise about the sleeping pills that the idea had come to him. Not that he actually intended to bump the old girl off, of course. But who knew what might happen when she was in pain, unable to sleep and terrified of the noise when that big gun started up so close to the house?

  Since that last big raid the town had suffered several near misses. The bombers often flew over on their way to and from their real targets – the big cities and air fields to the west of the town.

  Last night there’d been another warning and, before leaving for the ARP post, James had gone in to Dora who was sitting up clutching the bed clothes while Louise tried to persuade her to go down to the cellar as she did every time the siren sounded.

  The old girl had been adamant. ‘I can’t manage the stairs you know that,’ she said. ‘Don’t leave me.’

  ‘I won’t leave you, Mother,’ said Louise turning to James. ‘Stay with her for a minute. I’ll go down and get the flask and hot water bottle. Then you’d better get off.’

  James had sat beside Dora, holding her hand. ‘Why don’t you take a pill, dear? Calm you down.’

  ‘I’ve had one already,’ she said.

  ‘Take another then. You must sleep, dear. The guns have stopped now. False alarm I expect. You’ll feel better after a sleep.’

  ‘Dr Tate said I mustn’t take too many,’ Dora said. But her hand was reaching out for the tablet and the glass of water.

  ‘It won’t hurt. Better than lying awake all night listening for the planes going over.’ James watched her swallow the tablet and took the glass from her. ‘Listen, that’s the all clear. You can sleep now. I’ll leave the bottle handy in case you wake in the night.’

  Dora laid back and closed her eyes. ‘Thank you, dear. You’re such a good boy.’

  When Louise came back with the hot water bottle he put his finger to his lips to stop her coming into the room. ‘She’s just drifting off. Best not to disturb her,’ he whispered.

  Now he strode up the road towards the office thinking furiously. He needed money badly. If only he could sell the house. That would pay off his gambling debt and leave a little to tide him over till business picked up again.

  He hadn’t been able to believe his luck when he’d been approached by the ministry wanting accommodation for some high-ranking personnel. It was all very hush hush but he guessed it was something to do with the plans for invading France.

  As the leading estate agent in the town, Charlton and Spencer were in an ideal position to scout for a suitable property. Straight away James thought of Steyne House. They were offering a good price – more than enough to solve his financial difficulties.

  He’d thought his troubles were over until Louise dropped her bombshell. If he couldn’t sell the house, where was the money to come from? What a pity Dora wasn’t as ill as she made out. But she was definitely becoming dependent on those sleeping tablets. No one would think anything of it if she took too many one night. With her out of the way he was confident he could persuade Louise that her life would be easier in a smaller place.

  He entered the office and threw his briefcase down on the desk. Nancy, his new secretary looked up and smiled. She was a pretty little thing, not very bright, but that was to his advantage. She wouldn’t go poking her nose into his files and asking awkward questions like that Baines woman. He’d got rid of her just in time.

  He smiled back at the girl and held out his hand for the post. She blushed as his hand brushed hers. Turning back to his desk he hid a grin. He enjoyed flirting with her and he could tell she was up for it. But he resisted temptation. Maybe some time in the future, he thought. But he wouldn’t jeopardize his marriage – not until he had his hands on the house anyway.

  As he sorted the post his thoughts turned to his wife. Just lately she’d begun to stand up for herself and, instead of always being at home when he finished work, she was often at the WVS centre. Perhaps he should start being more firm with her. But he had to be careful. Only the other day he’d bumped into the Revd Ayling who’d begun singing Louise’s praises. And that pompous old fool of a doctor was always saying how lucky he was to have such a dedicated and hard-working wife.

  He hated her having outside interests but he couldn’t complain that she neglected him or his mother-in-law. Louise always made sure everything in the home was just as he liked it – meals ready on time and a companion there for Dora when she was out.

  He sighed and pulled a ledger from a locked drawer in the desk. He went over the figures, hoping he’d made a mistake. But it was a forlorn hope. The business was in trouble and he only had himself to blame. He couldn’t manipulate the books any further. But he had to have money – and soon.

  He stood up abruptly. ‘I’m off to visit a client. Hold the fort, Nancy.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Spencer. You can rely on me.’ The girl looked up and smiled.

  ‘I know I can.’ He winked at her, grabbed his hat and left. There was no client, of course, but the pubs would be open now.

  As he sat in a corner of the saloon bar of the Red Lion, he pulled a letter
from his pocket. He’d forgotten about it until now. When he’d seen the American stamp he had grabbed it quickly. Usually he threw Sarah’s letters on the fire unread but Louise had come into the hall as he picked up the post and he’d shoved it into his pocket.

  He usually managed to intercept Sarah’s letters as well as some of Louise’s to her sister. He had to smile when he’d read those, consisting as they did of passionate pleas for Sarah to get in touch.

  He tore open the envelope, curious to see what the little bitch had written. I always knew she was self-centred, he thought. Pages of what she was up to, the famous people she’d met, the films she was starring in. Well, so far he hadn’t seen her name on the posters outside the Picturedrome. It was all talk, he thought.

  He turned the sheet over. There it was as usual. ‘Why don’t you write? I haven’t heard for ages. Is Mother all right? And are you pregnant yet? I want to be an aunty.’

  James gave a snort of laughter. Pregnant? If only. How he dreamed of having a son to follow him in the business. Besides, if Louise had a baby it would keep her in her proper place – at home. These past few weeks he’d begun to hope, until he’d seen the familiar despair on her face that morning. Well, they could keep trying. He smiled as he sipped the weak beer but, as he thought about his wife, her image was replaced by that of Nancy’s sparkling eyes and pert breasts.

  Mrs Howard was late. Louise glanced impatiently at her watch. She’d promised to meet Muriel in time for the afternoon matinee at the Picturedrome. Dora thought she was doing canteen duty with the WVS and, although she’d complained as usual, Louise guessed she was really looking forward to an afternoon of gossip with her old friend.

  Louise put on her hat and gloves and reached for her handbag, ready to leave the moment the older woman arrived. She didn’t dare go out and leave her stepmother alone. The last time that had happened, James had arrived home unexpectedly to find Dora in hysterics and there had been a furious row.