‘What a flaming liar! I said what a flaming liar! Lord bloody Haw-Haw isn’t in it. Let’s face it, you wouldn’t lose any sleep if I ended up in hospital. You were nicely tucked up in bed when I finally got in, weren’t you? Weren’t you?’
‘Is that what upset you? I didn’t realize.’
She felt slightly easier in her mind for finding a reason for his behaviour. She hadn’t pictured it from his point of view. He wasn’t home by midnight so she had gone to bed. Evidently he regarded this as a betrayal. It was the silliest nonsense considering how he had spent the evening, but that was the way his mind worked. He felt rejected. God, what she was reduced to!
‘Shall I make you some coffee?’
‘Coffee be buggered.’
‘Just as you wish.’
‘I’m accident-proof, if you want to know. I got through the war without a prang, didn’t I? Over seven hundred flying hours. After that I’m not going to fall down the moving staircase at Victoria, am I? Or walk into a lamp post.’ He made a smug chuckling sound. ‘The only accident I ever had was with a certain WAAF sergeant at Hornchurch.’
She tensed again. ‘What do you mean?’
He could hardly speak for laughing now. The words came out in a wheeze.
‘You know what I mean. An accident. One that got away. A bun in the oven.’
‘You got her pregnant?’
‘That was the upshot, so to speak.’
Rose’s hands crept up to her neck.
‘She had a child?’
‘A bouncing baby boy.’
‘At Hornchurch? After we were married.’ She sat up in bed in the dark. ‘You had a child after we were married? You’re lying.’
‘Who are you calling a liar? There’s only one liar in this house, and it isn’t me.’
4
Antonia was emphatic. ‘Darling, he made the whole thing up.’
‘Don’t you believe it?’
‘It’s absolute rubbish.’
‘Listen, he told me the woman’s name — Stella Paxton. She was in the MT section at Hornchurch, driving the officers about.’
‘Does that prove anything?’
‘But Barry’s quite open about his affairs. Why would he lie about this?’
‘Men have fragile egos, my flower. He came in late expecting a scene and you put him to bed like your tame teddy bear. He was insulted.’
‘You think he wanted a scene?’
‘A fight, more like.’
‘That’s rich. Here am I wondering where I went wrong and you tell me I didn’t pick a fight. We’ve never had fights.’
‘And look at the result.’
In spite of her distress, Rose smiled. She’d phoned because she needed to speak to someone. It wasn’t the sort of problem you could take to your mother and father. She knew she could rely on Antonia for a heart-to-heart and some cogent advice.
‘Would you have given him a telling-off?’
‘A telling-off! A punch in the kisser. He wanted a reaction.’
‘He’s got one now — I’m devastated.’
‘Of course you are, poor lamb. You’ve taken it all to heart.’
‘He hurt me. Physically held me down and hurt me. I was terrified and he knew it.’
‘It’s just a game to them. They don’t know their own strength.’
‘Not Barry. He isn’t like that. I thought he was going to strike me.’
‘But he didn’t?’
‘Well no.’
‘All right, he scared you a bit. Didn’t the boys at school ever chase you with a spider or something? It’s horrid, but it’s not without excitement.’
‘You don’t understand. There was nothing playful about this. It was vile, as if... Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s my imagination. That beastly murder in the newspapers is giving me ideas.’
‘Heath?’
‘I told you. Barry’s fascinated by it.’
‘Sounds as if he was the one who got ideas.’
‘Antonia, I don’t believe he made it up about Stella Paxton and the baby.’
‘If that’s what worries you, you’d better find out for sure.’
‘Yes, but how?’
‘Go through his things, for heaven’s sake.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Don’t be naive, flower. If he has another woman and child and he’s thinking of ditching you...’
‘Oh, I didn’t say that.’
‘... don’t you think you have a right to know? Does he keep letters, photographs, anything like that?’
‘He keeps the bills in the writing desk. I’ve no idea what else is in there.’
‘Better get busy then. Is it locked?’ ‘The lock isn’t very good.’
‘Well, then. Put down the phone and do it now. Barry isn’t there, is he?’
‘Of course not, but I’ve always respected his privacy.’ ‘Did he respect you when he got Stella Paxton pregnant?’
Rose closed her eyes tightly. ‘Now you’re telling me it’s true. I don’t know what to believe. Antonia, what do you really think?’
‘Never mind me, sweetie. It’s obvious you’ve got to find out for yourself.’
She still hesitated when it came to forcing open the desk. Her throat went dry and her hand on the kitchen knife trembled.
She hesitated because the act of breaking into Barry’s desk was underhanded. She had been deceived; now she was trading deceit for deceit.
‘Did he respect you...?’
She tightened her grip, slid the knife in and pressed on it, supporting the flap with her left hand as it came open. Everything was stacked in front of her in the slots and shelves — bills, chequebooks, bank statements, payslips, his demob papers, photos, marriage certificate and bundles of business letters. There were fountain pens, bottles of ink, a glass paperweight and the case containing his DFC.
Ashamed of herself, she snapped the desk shut again.
She returned to the kitchen, put the knife back in the drawer and took out the small bottle of brandy that she kept in the larder. It was supposed to be for Christmas puddings, but she usually forgot to use it. It had come in useful when her mother stayed with her during the bombing. She poured some into a medicine glass.
The phone rang. She knew it would be Antonia again.
‘What did you find, darling?’
‘Nothing at all.’
‘Really? You did get into the desk, I hope?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m surprised, then. Did you find his address book?’
‘Address book? No.’
‘Diaries, letters?’
‘Nothing of a personal nature.’
‘He keeps them somewhere else, then. Can you think of any other place?’
‘Not at the moment. Look, I’m going to give it some thought before I do anything else.’
‘We’ll work something out between us.’
‘Thanks awfully, Antonia, but I ought to think this out carefully before I do anything at all.’
‘Don’t be so daft, darling. What are friends for? We’ll sort it out tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Elevenses in the Corner House.’
‘Would you mind terribly if we didn’t? I’m still rather shaky. I don’t feel up to going out.’
‘You poor wee thing — of course. How about Thursday?’
‘I’d rather leave it for the present if you don’t mind. Perhaps in a week or two.’
She wasn’t too proud of herself for putting Antonia off so soon after turning to her for support, but she didn’t want to be hustled into doing things against her conscience. It hadn’t been right to force open the writing desk. She would find out the truth by some less underhanded means. The most obvious way was to ask Barry straight out, but she couldn’t face that. It would be laying herself open to more hurt. She wanted to know, but not in the heat of argument.
5