The older child beamed. ‘Daddy!’ she cried and as she darted towards the hallway, her mother grabbed her arm. ‘No Jenny, wait.’
‘But that’s Daddy,’ she cried. ‘I can hear him.’
Annie’s stomach went over. She looked down at the girl. She was about six years old with light brown hair done up in plaits. Her pinched face had an earnest expression. She was clean and tidy but thin and pale. Her coat was far too small for her. The sleeves ended above the wrists and the buttons strained across her middle. It barely reached her knees. The other little girl looked about eighteen months old.
Henry’s heavy footsteps echoed along the passageway. ‘Didn’t you hear me call, darling? I’m home.’
Annie remained rooted to the spot. She didn’t know what to do. He’d be furious that she’d let this stranger in and even more annoyed that the uninvited woman in his kitchen was unhinged enough to be making such ridiculous accusations. ‘I think you’d better go,’ she hissed, but it was already too late.
A bunch of chrysanthemums heralded his arrival and then Henry himself stood in the doorway. When he saw the woman, his face froze. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he thundered.
‘Daddy,’ said the child again, but he ignored her.
Her mother pulled Jenny back to her side. ‘You know perfectly well why I’m here,’ she said defiantly. ‘How could you do this to us, Henry?’
‘Get out,’ he bellowed. ‘Get out or I’ll call the police and have you arrested.’
Annie gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
With a defiant look, Sarah squared up to him. ‘Why don’t you do just that,’ she retorted, but he’d thrown the flowers onto the kitchen table and was already bundling her roughly through the kitchen door. ‘Call the police,’ she shrieked as she was being manhandled outside, ‘and it’s you they’ll lock up, Henry.’
‘Get out, you witch, and don’t come back!’
‘You owe me, Henry!’
‘I owe you nothing.’
‘But we’ve got nothing. You’ve got to help us.’
By now both children were crying, but Henry didn’t seem to care. ‘Get out, get out, the lot of you …’ he shouted as he slammed the door after them. There was the sound of a fall and Annie listened in horror as the little girl tried to comfort her mother and sister.
‘Oh Henry, I forgot to bring the washing in,’ Annie cried. ‘She’s fallen over the tin bath.’
She ran towards the door but Henry grabbed her wrist and rounded on her. ‘Why did you let them in? Haven’t I told you time and time again not to have people in the house when I’m not here?’
‘I didn’t realise she was there,’ Annie protested. The wails outside began to fade and they both knew that the woman and her children were leaving. ‘I thought she was Mrs Holborn.’
‘And why would you think that?’ he bellowed.
Annie gulped. Why had she blurted that out? She dared not tell him that she and Mrs Holborn met on a regular basis.
‘You’ve had her in here, haven’t you?’ he cried, swinging his arm around and sending everything from the table onto the floor. The plates smashed and the knives and forks fell with a clatter as he yelled, ‘Why can’t you women do as you’re bloody well told?’
‘Henry …’ she said in shocked surprise. He’d been cross with her in the past but she’d never seen him in such a rage before. She gasped at the broken plates and the bunch of flowers scattered everywhere, but he was totally unrepentant. His feet crunching on broken glass, he stalked angrily out of the room.
Annie’s heart was thumping as she surveyed the mess. This wasn’t how she’d wanted the evening to be. A smell of burning chop wafted towards her and she realised too late that the dinner was ruined as well. Miserably, she began to clear up. When she opened the back door to put the pieces of broken crockery into the dustbin, the woman and the two children had long gone. There was no sign of them. The washing was still in the clean bath, so she picked it up and brought it in. Putting it onto a chair, Annie fought her tears and began to fold it ready for the iron.
Could the woman’s words be true? Annie had been ready to dismiss her fantastic accusation out of hand until the little girl recognised Henry’s voice. The child was so young it seemed impossible that she would make it up, and if she really was his child, how could he have been so cruel? Annie caressed her bump. What if he was that horrible to her baby? She heard a footfall behind her and realised he was back.
‘Sorry, darling,’ he said in a contrite tone of voice. ‘Bad day at the office.’ He took her in his arms and held her tightly.
‘She said you were her husband.’
‘I’ve never seen her in my life before,’ he said firmly. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly and she melted in his arms.
‘But the little girl seemed to know you,’ Annie said. ‘She called you daddy.’
His expression darkened. ‘What is this? Are you calling me a liar?’ he challenged.
‘No, no, of course not,’ Annie said. ‘It’s just that …’
‘They train them to do that,’ he said.
Annie was aghast. ‘Train them?’
‘Don’t you see, you silly goose?’ he smiled, relaxing his expression. ‘It was some sort of racket. She wanted money, that’s all. They come round and make a scene, the kid pretends the husband is the father and we pay her to go away and say nothing.’ He put his arms around her again.
‘Poor little things. They did look rather thin,’ Annie remarked.
‘Let’s not talk about them anymore,’ said Henry curtly.
‘The tea,’ she said miserably.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said. ‘We’re going away.’
‘Going away?’ she said faintly. ‘But you never said. Where are we going?’
‘It’s a little surprise,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a few days off work. Now go upstairs and pack, there’s a good girl. We’ll eat on the train.’
‘What train?’ she asked.
‘Stop asking bloody questions!’ he snapped impatiently.
Annie fled. The suitcase was on the bed. He’d obviously been up into the loft to fetch it. She packed what she could but had no idea how long they were going for or even where they were going. Why couldn’t he have mentioned the surprise this morning? It would have made the day so much better, having something to look forward to, and she could have done a little ironing ready to pack the suitcase. Still, it was a good time of the year to be going away. Most boarding houses would welcome late guests. The summer season was over and yet the warm autumn days were as good as, if not better than, August. She wondered where they were going. They certainly couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel. Henry was always very careful with his money.
‘Finished?’ he said, coming through the bedroom door.
‘I hope we’re not going to be too long,’ she said. ‘I have to see the midwife next week.’
‘For God’s sake!’ he snapped and, pushing her roughly aside, he slammed the lid of the case and locked it. ‘Stop bleating on, will you? Go and get your coat on.’
‘We’re not