For Better For Worse by Pam Weaver Page B

his wife.
    Mrs Holborn was back. She looked tired and drawn.
    ‘How is your husband?’ Annie asked.
    ‘I’m going back first thing in the morning,’ she said grimly. ‘They tell me it’s only a matter of days.’
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Annie, catching her neighbour’s hand.
    Mrs Holborn squeezed her hand back. ‘Don’t you go worrying about me. We’ve had a good innings, Oswald and me. All good things come to an end.’ As she spoke, her face coloured and she looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, dear. Me and my big mouth. Now it’s my turn to be sorry.’
    ‘Do you think I should telephone the police station?’
    ‘Leave it until the morning, dear. I’m sure they won’t tell you anything you don’t already know.’
    *
    As Peter Millward drove her and the girls home, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking. In truth, she’d wished she was still in the kitchen when the police had knocked on Henry’s door. How she would have loved to see his smug face change when they’d arrested him. What on earth had he done? If she could have had anything to do with it, she would have enjoyed pointing the finger and watching him squirm. How could he have left her and the kids like that? She was at her wit’s end. Someone in the pub had told her that if a person was missing for seven years they could be declared dead. But he wasn’t dead, was he? He’d walked out of all their lives, taking everything portable with him and, somehow, Sarah had struggled on. Seeing the lovely house where Henry lived made it even harder to keep a lid on her anger. She and the girls managed in one room and a bedroom upstairs and a poky little kitchen which she had to share with the tenant downstairs. They had an outside lavvy while the rat who’d put her in this position lived in a three-bedroomed house with its own little garden.
    Henry had once accused her of being dippy and said that she wouldn’t be able to cope without him. Well, she’d proved him wrong, hadn’t she? She may not have such a grand house, but she’d kept a roof over their heads and the girls knew they were loved.
    ‘I take it that it didn’t go well,’ said Peter cautiously.
    ‘It didn’t,’ Sarah said. The only sound in the lorry was the hum of the engine.
    ‘I won’t pry,’ he said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road, ‘but just to let you know, if ever you want to talk …’
    ‘Thank you, Mr Millward,’ she said stiffly. ‘You’re a kind man.’
    ‘Peter, please.’
    ‘Peter,’ she said shyly.
    And with that, he left her to her own thoughts for the rest of the journey. The minute Henry had pushed her and the girls out of the door, Sarah’s hopes and dreams had been finally dashed. In her haste to get away, she had tripped over a metal bath full of washing and fallen onto the path. Poor little Jenny was distraught. Sarah had hauled herself to her feet and, ignoring the graze on her leg, limped away, her only thought to get her children as far away from Henry as possible. For the first time since it happened, she became aware of a throbbing in her leg. She glanced down and in the headlights of a passing car, she caught sight of a dark stain creeping down her leg. Her stocking was shredded.
    ‘Do you need to stop and sort that leg out?’ said Peter.
    ‘No, I’ll be all right,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll wait until I get home.’
    Jenny had already leaned into her mother’s side and promptly fallen asleep. Lu-Lu was dead to the world in her arms and although Sarah was dog-tired, she couldn’t sleep. Her brain was racing. Lu-Lu was far too young to understand, but how would her gentle Jenny survive knowing that the daddy she adored had no time for her now? How could he be so heartless and cruel? Sarah kissed the top of her daughter’s neatly plaited head. ‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ she whispered to her sleeping child. ‘From now on, I promise to protect you. He may not want you, but Mummy loves you to bits.’ And, she thought to herself, Mummy