Free For Better For Worse by Pam Weaver

happened in Horsham. She did her shift in the pub, which was particularly unpleasant that day because someone had been sick in the gents, and then a little shopping. She avoided Mrs Angel’s shop because she couldn’t face putting what happened yesterday into words there either. She tried not to, but she couldn’t help wondering what Henry was doing now. She hoped his cell was freezing cold and that they’d taken away all his clothes. She hoped his bed was made of rusty nails and that he had rats for company. Of course, in this day and age that was impossible, she told herself, but she wished for it all the same. The puzzling thing was, why had the police arrested him? If only she had stayed outside the back door a bit longer, then she might have heard.
    Where did she go from here? She should jolly well make Henry pay for his children’s upkeep, but how did she go about it? Besides, if she flagged herself up to the welfare people, they might decide to take the kids away from her and if that happened, she couldn’t go on. Without Jenny and Lu-Lu, she might as well be dead. She had no money for solicitors and the like, so she was in a cleft stick.
    Before picking Jenny up from school, Sarah went to the phone box to look in the dog-eared Directory Enquiries book for the number of the Horsham police station. Then she lifted the receiver and asked the operator to connect her. Once she had pushed the money in the slot and the operator told her she was connected, she pressed button B and heard a gruff voice saying, ‘Horsham Police. Desk Sergeant.’
    ‘I’m enquiring about Mr Henry Royal,’ she said in her poshest voice.
    ‘He’s been sent for trial at Lewes Assizes.’
    Sarah swallowed hard. ‘On what charge?’
    ‘Who are you?’ said the sergeant.
    ‘I’m his wife.’
    ‘Then you already know,’ said the sergeant. He sounded irritable. ‘Seeing as how you made the complaint.’
    Sarah hesitated. What was he talking about? ‘But I’ve made no complaint,’ she said.
    There was a pause at the other end. ‘Say your name again?’
    ‘Mrs Sarah Royal,’ she said deliberately.
    The sergeant must have put his hand over the mouthpiece because although his response was muffled, Sarah heard him gasp, ‘Bloody ’ell. Call the Inspector. There’s another one on the phone.’
    She hung up.
    *
    Back home and exhausted, Annie stood in her bathroom and put a cold flannel to her forehead. What a day. The meeting at the jeweller’s where Henry worked in the office went quite well, although she’d hated having to lie to them. She’d used her pregnancy to good effect and even had them fussing around her with a chair and a glass of water before she’d left the shop.
    ‘If there’s anything we can do to help, Mrs Royal,’ the manager had said as she left, ‘please don’t hesitate …’
    Annie had kept her head down, not daring to look him in the eye, but she told him of her appreciation for his kind offer. It was so embarrassing and she went away full of shame, but for Henry’s sake what else could she do?
    The next pressing thing was to find some money and her wedding certificate for Mr West and that left her with another dilemma. Henry kept all their important papers in the dresser drawer, but she didn’t have the key. Henry kept all the keys to himself, while she only had the front and back door keys.
    After reviving her flagging energy levels with a sandwich, Annie tackled the drawer. She tried sliding a knife along the top, but as soon as it hit the lock, that was that. She found a bunch of keys in the outhouse but nothing fitted. She tried picking the lock with a piece of wire, but her attempt soon convinced her that she’d never make a good burglar. What looked easy on the Hollywood silver screen was far from simple in real life and it was also very frustrating. The emergency money was almost gone. If only she hadn’t bought that cake and magazine. True, the cake had only cost 3d, as did