For Better For Worse (11 page)

‘Malcolm, dear,’ Judith Mitchell interjected, ‘I don’t think this is helping.’

‘Oh, here we go,’ her husband bellowed. ‘Somehow I thought you’d be sticking up for her before long.’

‘I’m going to my room,’ said Annie, getting to her feet.

‘Sit down!’ her father spat, but Annie ignored him. Calmly walking from the room, she closed the door. She could still hear him shouting, ‘Annie? Annie, come back here this minute …’ as she closed her bedroom door and lay on the bed. It was still a couple more weeks until the court hearing, but she’d made up her mind she wasn’t going to get into any more arguments with her father until it was over. She’d give the baby up like they said. Not because her father wanted it but because it wasn’t fair to bring a child into a world where its grandparents were warring with its mother and its father was in jail. To have it adopted was by far the best thing. That way the baby could have a mother and father who loved and wanted it.

‘It’s the best I can do for you,’ she told him, as she ran her hand wearily over her bump. But when the baby moved in response to her touch, she knew she could never do it.

The courtroom in Lewes was on the High Street. When Annie first saw it, she thought it an imposing building. It dated from Victorian times and was made of Portland stone with a portico of four pillars which covered the steps leading to the three doors at the top. Above the steps, a single Victorian lamp lit the way. Lewes had had its share of famous trials and most notably had gained notoriety as the place where Patrick Mahon was tried for the murder of Emily Kaye in the infamous Crumbles murder case, a case which had been handled by none other than the famous forensic pathologist, Sir Bernard Spilsbury. Annie only knew all this because there had been a lot in the paper about him when Spilsbury had died at the end of 1947.

With the castle itself as a backdrop, Annie wished she was here as a tourist rather than a wronged woman. Flanked by her parents, she was hustled through the doors and into a waiting area where she sat down. Her father prowled the corridors, jangling the coins in his pocket, and her mother, a bag of nerves, kept going to the toilet. Their drive to Lewes had been uneventful, and although she knew it really worried her mother, Annie had little to say. She found her silence acted as a defence mechanism because talking only encouraged her father’s constant ranting about Henry and how he knew all along that he was a bad lot who would eventually come to a sticky end. It took all her willpower not to react but she refused to kowtow, knowing that this was by far the best way. With only a month to go of her pregnancy, Annie no longer had the energy to argue or defend herself, but at least she had the satisfaction of knowing how much her refusal to respond irritated her father.

She had been there about ten minutes or so when she saw the woman who had come to her house on that fateful day and accused Henry of being her husband. This time, dressed in a brown suit with patchy velveteen cuffs, she was on her own. The two of them made eye contact and as the woman gave her a nod of recognition, Annie turned her head away before working her mouth into a thin half smile. They sat apart, the woman sitting primly with her handbag clutched tightly on her lap and Annie staring at the floor.

‘You’d think they’d have a proper waiting room,’ her father complained. ‘How much longer have we got to hang around here?’

Annie didn’t see Henry until she was in court about an hour later. As she stood in the witness box, he sat opposite the judge in the dock. He looked pale but he was smartly dressed in his best suit. Her heart lurched and as she looked at him he mouthed, ‘I love you.’ She felt slightly bewildered.

The inside of the courtroom was even more imposing than the outside, although the wood panelling behind the judge’s seat and along the walls made it seem rather dark. The ornate vaulted ceiling gave the room a kind of conservatory feel. In the centre under the judge’s bench was a large table where a woman stenographer sat listening to and recording the proceedings. The jury sat in front of her. Annie scanned their faces. They were all men and, judging from their dress, from all walks of life. Three of them seemed very old and one man sported a huge walrus moustache.

As she was sworn in, Annie recognised Mr West, but the man who spoke up for Henry was new to her. Somewhere along the line she had been told his name was Mr Collingwood, King’s Counsel for the defence. She was asked to give her name and then before Mr Hounsome, the KC for the prosecution, began his questioning, the judge interrupted.

‘If the jury are at times constrained to think that there might be an element of humour about bigamy, they should remember that there is another side to the case which is more important and has no humour whatsoever.’

Annie drew her grey and black swagger coat around herself and the members of the jury stared at her with concern. Turning to her, the judge said in a less severe tone of voice, ‘Considering your condition, Mrs Royal, would you like to sit down?’

Annie nodded, but the moment they brought a chair was the moment she felt her greatest humiliation. She still wore her wedding ring and yet even as she put her right hand on the Bible, it felt as if she was telling lies. Her coat slipped open and her advanced pregnancy was obvious to all. Every eye in the courtroom was upon her. She could see the gentlemen of the press at the back of the court scribbling in their notepads and, worst of all, her father who had already given his evidence about the missing brooch and his toxic relationship with Henry, glowering from the public gallery. A woman in a fur coat and broad-brimmed black hat was sitting to the right of her father. Annie had never seen her before but she stared down at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Could this be the other woman who had made a complaint against Henry?

Annie answered the questions put to her with dignity and truthfully. Yes, she had married a little over a year ago. Her marriage certificate was passed around. No, when she signed the certificate, she had no idea her husband was still married.

‘He told me his first wife had died in the war,’ Annie explained.

There was a murmur in the gallery and she glanced up to see her father shaking his head in disbelief. Her mother, sitting to the left of him, was dabbing her eyes.

‘You met when the defendant worked in your father’s jeweller’s shop?’

‘Yes.’

‘You had a speedy courtship?’

‘Yes. We met and married within three months,’ Annie smiled.

‘And you set up home in Horsham where your husband then got a job working for another local jeweller,’ said Mr Hounsome, luring her on. His tone was gentle and concerned. Annie began to relax.

‘Yes. He was very well respected,’ she said proudly. ‘Henry likes things done just so, and they gave him a promotion almost straight away.’

‘In other words, you noticed that he brought home more money.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did your husband ever bring items from the shop back home?’

‘Yes. There wasn’t always time to finish what he was doing so he brought bits and pieces back home. He often worked late into the night.’

Mr Hounsome showed her a watch and some jewellery. ‘Have you seen these before?’

‘Yes. That was one of the watches he was cleaning, and the necklace had a broken clasp. My husband repaired both of them one evening.’

‘He brought them home, but did he take them back the next day?’

‘Of course.’

‘How do you know?’

Annie chewed her lip thoughtfully. She had presumed the items were in his briefcase when he left in the morning.

‘Mrs Royal, how do you know for sure that your husband took the items back to the shop?’

‘I trusted him,’ Annie said stoutly. ‘I’m sure that’s what he would have done.’

‘But he didn’t, did he? The watch and the necklace are here in the courtroom.’

Annie frowned.

‘They were found in your home. Hidden in your husband’s wardrobe.’

She began to realise that Henry was charged not only with the theft of the brooch from her father’s shop but with other thefts too.

‘Someone had broken into the drawer of the dresser, Mrs Royal.’

‘That was me,’ she said quickly.

‘You broke into your own dresser?’

‘Yes. I was looking for money,’ said Annie. She glanced towards Henry and noted his look of disapproval. ‘I wanted to go and visit my husband in prison and I knew he kept money in the drawer.’

‘Why not use the key?’

‘My husband had the key.’

‘Were you looking for money, or perhaps you thought that with your husband in custody you could help yourself to a watch or a necklace or two?’

‘No!’ cried Annie desperately. In the public gallery her mother stood up to leave.

‘M’lord,’ Mr Collingwood protested. ‘Mrs Royal isn’t on trial here.’

‘It is my client’s contention that she drove him to steal, to satisfy her constant demands for more money.’

‘That’s not true!’ Annie cried helplessly. ‘I never did that.’

‘Proceed with another line of questioning, Mr Hounsome,’ said the judge.

Mr Hounsome pressed her on other matters; her negligible social life, the loss of friendships and her lack of contact with her parents; all, he suggested, was the result of Annie wanting to have Henry to herself. She protested heatedly that everything he’d said was so negative and blatantly untrue. Annie could hardly believe her ears and although she tried to keep ahead of what he was saying, the questions came so thick and fast it gave her no time to think. But one thing she understood all too clearly; he was implying that somehow Henry’s plight was her fault.

When Mr Hounsome finally sat down, Annie had told the truth, but she had a sinking feeling that she had only made matters worse. In his defence, Mr Collingwood had her tell everyone what an excellent husband Henry was and how well he looked after her. She told them of her shock when meeting the first Mrs Royal and how she was convinced that there had been a ghastly mistake – but it was to no avail. She could tell from the stern faces of the jury that she had done little to help Henry and that she had probably sullied her own reputation to boot. She left the witness box with a heavy heart.

Sarah gave her evidence clearly and precisely, but there was a distinct wobble in her voice. Annie listened from the benches and heard how Henry had married Sarah on March 12th, 1939 and that they had two children. Soon after their second child was born in 1947, Sarah told the court, he had left town very suddenly.

‘Have you been left destitute by the defendant?’ Mr Hounsome asked.

Lifting her head defiantly, Sarah took in a deep breath. ‘I have no financial support from my husband if that’s what you mean,’ she said, ‘but my children are well cared for.’

‘Have you experienced any change in your circumstances since your husband left?’

‘Without his income I had to leave our marital home and take up lodgings.’

Annie shifted her feet uncomfortably. She hated the idea that a mother and her children had been deserted in that way, but she was sure Henry would never be that callous. It wasn’t her fault, yet somehow she felt responsible.

‘What contact did you have with your husband?’

‘None. Not until someone told me they’d seen him in Horsham and I went there to find him.’

‘You took your children along,’ Mr Hounsome went on. ‘Was he pleased to see them?’

Shaking her head, Sarah dabbed her eyes. ‘He threw us out of the house.’

Annie closed her eyes as in her head she could still hear Sarah’s little girl, bewildered and frightened, calling for her daddy.

When Mr Collingwood, the KC for the defence, stood up, he persuaded Sarah to tell the members of the jury that up until the time he’d left, Henry had been a model husband, and reluctantly she had to agree.

‘Is it possible that your husband’s war experiences damaged him and led to this confusion?’

‘I doubt it,’ said Sarah stoutly. ‘Because of his age, he was called up late and was only in the army pay corps.’

There was a ripple of laughter in the courtroom. Annie’s jaw dropped. That wasn’t true. Henry had told her he’d been a POW since Dunkirk. She leapt to her feet. ‘That’s a lie. My husband was a war hero.’

The court was suddenly filled with murmurings.

‘Silence in court,’ said the judge.

‘But what she’s saying isn’t true,’ Annie insisted.

The judge glowered and banged his gavel. ‘Any more outbursts like that, young lady, and I’ll have you removed.’

Annie sat down dejectedly and the counsel resumed.

‘You say that your husband wasn’t called up until the war was well advanced,’ Mr Collingwood continued. ‘What was his line of work before that?’

‘He was in a jeweller’s shop in Littlehampton,’ said Sarah, ‘until he was called up in 1943.’

‘So if it wasn’t a bad experience during the war, what do you think contributed to the change in your relationship?’

‘The birth of our second daughter,’ said Sarah. ‘He was terribly disappointed that we didn’t have a son.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Mr Collingwood. ‘Didn’t Mr Royale tell you that he was upset and had to leave you because he had just found out that his first wife hadn’t properly divorced him? Isn’t that was why your own relationship broke down?’

‘When I married him, I had no idea he already had another wife,’ Sarah gasped. She glanced at Henry in the dock. ‘I always thought that
I
was his first wife!’

Up in the public gallery, Malcolm Mitchell let out, ‘Good God!’ The woman in the fur coat sitting next to him let out a sob as she pushed a handkerchief to her mouth and hurriedly left the courtroom.

When Sarah stepped down, they called Kaye Geraldine Royale into the witness box. Annie remembered her instantly as the woman who had watched Henry going to work on the day of his birthday before darting behind the gate. She was the same woman who had tried to speak to her in the park. Sarah recognised her too. She was the elegant woman waiting in the car the night that Henry was arrested.

As soon as she was sworn in, Kaye told the court that she and Henry had been married in 1929. They had been very young, she eighteen and he twenty-five. They were unfortunately childless, but her husband had developed an obsession with having a son.