Free Untimely Graves by Marjorie Eccles Page A

he had undoubted abilities, he had never felt he received the acclaim from it he thought he undoubtedly deserved, and eventually decided a life at Westminster would suit him better. He had convinced the selection committee of his solid worth (or perhaps dazzled some of the women as much as he’d dazzled Hannah) and achieved considerable publicity during the subsequent campaign, when his suave manner and photogenic good looks had made him apparently very popular. The seat he was contesting was thought to be a safe one, but the people of the constituency he was meant to represent had thought otherwise, and presumably seen through him. He had lost by a large margin.
    Some people could cope with disappointment, but Charles was not one who fell into this category, never having been allowed to know what disappointment meant by either of his parents, who had spoiled him outrageously all his life. After failing in his bid for Westminster, he had stayed with the bank for some years then found an administrative job in industry, which was a mistake of the first order. He had lasted barely eighteen months among people who were quick to spot a supercilious phoney.
    God knows what would have happened had the post of school Bursar not conveniently become vacant at that particular moment. The then Headmaster of Lavenstock had shortly been due to retire, and was happy enough to push the appointment of a man who seemed to have the required financial and administrative
acumen, without going too deeply into his background, other than to note with satisfaction that he was an Old Boy of his own school.
    The post of Bursar, and the authority it conferred, had persuaded Charles that he had finally found a niche that suited him, and he filled the post with admirable efficiency. But he had never seen the advantage of showing circumspection, and was less and less able to curb his arrogance, even in public. He made few friends, of the sort he thought worthy of his upbringing, certainly none among his colleagues at the school. None of this went unnoticed; he was tolerated because of his undoubted abilities, but he could not be unaware that he was not popular.
    Hannah was dimly aware of all this but dared not say anything lest she precipitated one of his rages with himself. The effect on their marriage was disastrous. The more his complacency became dented, his personal inadequacies revealed, the angrier he became. Hannah had not been able to bear it, but she bore it better than what came after … She could scarcely believe that they had once been happy, or how wretched their lives had since then become.
    When Sam had come into her life, it had been like letting in the sun. He was too young for her, ten years in age and twenty in experience. What did age matter, said Sam, and she’d believed him. Until he’d gone berserk and nearly killed Charles when Charles found out what was happening. What would he do now, when he discovered nothing had changed? That she was still too spineless to have made the move to leave Charles, even though Paul was now old enough to lead his own life? That, trapped in an unhappy marriage, she had allowed herself to get lost in a labyrinth of introspection, which had led to much worse?
    So much worse that she wouldn’t even allow herself to think about it.

6
    Cleo had often before passed, but never had reason to enter, the premises of Maid to Order, which were situated on a busy road, lined with shops and houses of Edwardian vintage: the business was run from Val Storey’s own house, the yard being the back garden which had been concreted over. That first morning, there were four snazzy white vans drawn up in the yard, with Maid to Order written across the sides in black and scarlet.
    It was a large, double-fronted, villa-type house and Cleo found Val distractedly supervising operations in what had once been a sitting-room and was now her office. It was thronged with women talking fifty to the dozen, receiving their