The Judge's Daughter (20 page)

Agnes woke with a start. What a stupid dream that had been. Everyone knew that judges didn’t wear their daft wigs at home . . .

Zachary Spencer sat on the end of an oversized, custom-made bed. In his opinion, which was correct at all times, the situation within his own household had gone too far.
Louisa, an excellent wife with many plus points on her check sheet, had upset the balance. The subject had to be addressed. It should have been dealt with earlier, but he had allowed things to
slide because he needed to please Louisa. Now, he was going to put his foot down. A bride was required to learn her place in a household, and the shape and size of that position was the
responsibility of the husband. There should be laws on statute books, then the whole business could be made clear from the start.

He fastened his waistcoat and waited for his wife to return. Where was she? She was at the other side of the house in her stepdaughter’s rooms, was preparing Helen for this evening’s
party, was with her best friend. The fact that the atmosphere had changed shortly before Louisa’s arrival had not escaped him, but his wife’s support had allowed Helen to open up
further, and he did not like the latter’s attitude. Overtly supportive of and pleasant to her father, Helen was becoming talkative, was even daring to express opinions. While she invariably
agreed with the few words he spoke at table, she continued to hold in her eyes an expression of challenge, as if she were taunting him and fooling him. He was nobody’s fool. Fools did not
become judges; judges seldom became fools unless senility overcame them after long service in the name of the Crown.

Inwardly, he seethed. He could not identify the game Helen was playing, but he had glimpsed the edge of her cleverness, had realized too late that she was bright as well as unpredictable. Her
mother had been clever, yet not clever enough to conceal from her husband the fact that she disagreed with his politics and his attitudes. Helen had the brains to wear a thin gilding of good metal
over her true self. She was brilliant, had inherited her father’s brains and her mother’s wilfulness. As time wore on, the veneer covering Helen’s true core was beginning to
erode. The result had to be dealt with immediately.

It was getting late. He glanced at a clock, imagined the two of them together in Helen’s suite, all laughter and smiles. It was not natural. Most daughters would leave home if a parent
brought home a new partner, but Helen was not a bolter. He had asked her to leave; she had stayed, had spent a great deal of money on creating her own apartment within his house, was even stealing
the attention of his wife. It had to stop, he told himself for the thousandth time.

He fastened his shoes, pulled on a jacket, continued to wait. Unused to waiting, he tapped an impatient foot on the carpet. Louisa should be here with him. She was a good wife – that fact
was undeniable. Always pleasant, always accepting of his attentions, never angry, she catered to his whims, yet stuck to Helen like glue.

She came in. ‘Darling, you look smart,’ she announced.

‘Thank you. You were away a long time.’

‘Helen’s nervous,’ she replied. ‘She hasn’t had much of a social life, and I had to calm her. That’s the problem with a girl who has been without a mother
– she has no pattern to follow.’

He was surrounded by clever women.

‘Let me fix your tie.’ She stood over him and straightened the offending item. ‘There. You’ll be the best-dressed man in the room.’

‘So I should be – this suit is hand-made by craftsmen.’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘I don’t know why we need to have this damned party,’ he complained. ‘I can think of a thousand ways to spend an evening fruitfully, but this is not one of them. Damned
fools coming into my house, eating my food, drinking my—’

‘You’ll enjoy it,’ she promised.

‘Will I?’ His house would be full of lawyers, yet he could not be himself among his own colleagues, because Helen had put a stop to that. Had she really heard that gossip in the Pack
Horse, or had it been an opening salvo, a warning shot to his stern? Whatever she had sought to achieve, she had been successful. ‘Louisa?’

‘Yes?’

‘You spend too much time with my daughter.’

‘Do I?’ She sat at the dressing table. ‘It is much better this way, my love. Imagine how hard life might have been had she hated me. I am fortunate. She likes me and I enjoy
her company. Helen is very knowledgeable and interesting, you know.’

Life, he thought, would have been a great deal easier had Helen flounced out of the house in temper.

‘I like your daughter, Zach. And she fills some of the hours during your absences. What am I expected to do? Sit at one end of the house while she is at the other? And she goes to work, so
we are scarcely constant companions. We are the same age and we complement each other well. She needed help and I enjoy her companionship. She is coming out of her shell, probably for the first
time in her life. Your daughter is lonely.’

He seethed. Presented by the defence, the argument for Helen’s case was solid. In court, it would stand up to the most skilful cross-questioning from the best prosecutor on the planet.
Louisa was talking sense and he felt like a boxer who had been knocked out in the first round. Yet he continued to cling to the ropes, refused to lie down for the count. ‘She’s
devious,’ he said.

‘All women are devious, sweetheart. We are what men have made us.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘Yes.’ She spun round on the stool. ‘I’m sure you are right. I shall try to spend more time with you in the future, but you will need to be here. I can’t go
travelling from court to court, can I?’

He had lost. The jury would definitely come down on the side of the defence – there would be no sentence to impose. Sliding into his other simile, he was in the corner of the ring and the
fight was lost. ‘We shall have to go down shortly,’ he said almost resignedly.

‘Yes, dear. The food looks wonderful.’

‘Good.’ He looked at his watch again.

Louisa smiled brightly. ‘Before we do go, I want you to know that you are going to be a father again.’

He simply nodded, though his eyes blazed with pleasure. That would be a nail in Helen’s coffin. As soon as he had his son, the will would be changed. Of course, he would have to leave her
something, but the boy would inherit the bulk. ‘I am delighted to hear that,’ he said. ‘But should you be organizing an event in your condition? Don’t you want to stay up
here and rest? I can explain your absence if necessary.’

Louisa shook her head. ‘No. I am well. Explain nothing, Zach. I always think it’s tempting fate to announce a pregnancy too early. Let’s keep this to ourselves for the time
being. No one needs to know – except us and the doctor. This is our special secret.’ A smile hovered on her lips. She could manage the man. Like many of his gender, he was a fool when
it came to the machinations of females.

He kissed her on the cheek, then left the room.

When he had gone, Louisa stared at her reflection. The desire to scream had been with her for a while, but she would never indulge it. Zach was her safety and her future. The life she had left
behind could be allowed no significance, because she had gained what she had sought – security and wealth. This was not a play in three acts, though; this was a charade she would need to
perform well until the day he died. He was thirty years older than she was. All she required was patience, humour and one other important element – the distraction embodied by his
daughter.

Scars from the past ached, and she pressed a palm into her right side. The disfigurement of her lower body was officially attributed to surgery. Before she had learned to compose herself and
take silent charge, she had spoken her mind, had been battered and stabbed by a man who had supposedly loved her. Aware that she now lived with another man of uncertain temperament, she had laid
her plans well. No longer a secretary, no longer the dancer, she was determined to make the best of Zachary Spencer. He was an unpleasant man. She would cope.

The door crashed inward. ‘Denis? Are you there?’ Kate drew breath before repeating the call.

Denis descended the stairs. ‘I think I’m there,’ he said. ‘I was there when I looked a minute ago, but I’m here now, aren’t I? Shall I go back there, then
I’ll be there?’

Kate tried to frown, but failed. ‘Listen, you daft lummox. I can’t do nothing with him. He’s dug his heels in and won’t fettle. It’s like the horse and the water
– he won’t shift.’

Denis did not need the name of the ‘him’. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Says he’s not going, says he’s no intention of wearing a suit, says the shirt I bought him’s too tight at the neck. I’m going to kill him if he doesn’t
shape. Will you come and deal with him?’

‘What can I do that you can’t? You’re his wife – I’m only a neighbour.’

Kate nodded several times. ‘He’ll listen to you. You’re a man.’

‘That still doesn’t tell me what to do, though, does it? Shall I anaesthetize him? Knock him out? Fetch an ambulance? I know how he feels. I’d sooner sit knitting fog than
spend three or four hours up yon. Send Agnes. She’ll shift him. She’s even shifted her granddad a few times, and that’s like moving the Isle of Man.’ He shouted up the
stairwell. ‘Agnes? Go and dress Albert, will you?’

Agnes appeared at the top of the flight. ‘I’ve had trouble enough fastening my own frock – it fitted last week when I bought it. Anyway, I can’t dress a man. It
wouldn’t be right.’

‘I’ve got him into the trousers,’ said Kate. ‘You’ll not see him naked. I wouldn’t let that happen to my worst enemy. There’s enough shocks in life
without seeing my Albert in his birthday suit. Bad enough me having to put up with it. Just finish him off, Agnes,’ she begged.

‘What with?’ asked Denis. ‘Arsenic?’

Kate folded her arms. ‘If necessary, yes. We can prop him up on a chair in a corner and say he’s not well. We can order the gravestone tomorrow and I’ll lay on a ham tea for
the funeral. Stubborn as a mule, he is.’

Agnes sat on the top stair. ‘Why don’t we all go somewhere else? Please? I don’t know which knife to use for what.’

‘You don’t need to,’ said Kate. ‘You’ll be eating stood up. It’s a buffet. Bits of stupid things on bits of stupid biscuits to start with, then salads and all
kinds of meat – for God’s sake, help me.’

Agnes rose to her feet. She was grinning broadly, because she was looking at herself and Denis in forty years’ time. Kate and Albert were happy. They had celebrated their ruby anniversary
and they were still happy. Until it came to suits. Dressing up was not Albert’s idea of fun, and Denis was much the same. ‘All right,’ she said resignedly. ‘But I’m
promising nothing.’

‘Fair enough.’ Kate sank into a chair. ‘I’m exhausted and we still haven’t had the kick-off.’

After knocking, Agnes entered the cottage next door. Albert, in vest and trousers, was hiding behind the
Bolton Evening News
. ‘Hey, you,’ she began. ‘Stand up, get rid
of the reading matter and put your clothes on. You’re driving Kate out of her mind.’

He folded the paper. ‘Then she’s not far to travel, has she?’

‘If your wife’s crackers, you’ve sent her that way. Now, get dressed or Denis’ll do it for you. You’ve got five minutes. No use fighting it, Albert.’

He glared at her. ‘I didn’t ask for no bloody party, did I? I’m all right with me telly and the wireless. From the start, I told her I didn’t want to go.’

‘You’d let her go on her own, then? Four minutes and twenty seconds, you’ve got now.’

‘She works there – she’s used to it.’

Agnes sat down. ‘Right. Remember my grandfather – he was on the telly with his houses?’

He nodded.

‘He’ll be there. Like you, he’ll moan every inch of the way. Like you, he’ll not want to go. And we have to put up with him all night, because he’ll be sleeping
over with his wife in our house.’

‘What’s that got to do with the price of fish?’

‘Well, he’s thinking of buying Bamber Cottage. If and when he does, he’ll be looking for an apprentice.’

‘And?’

‘And you can apply. Get in first, get to know him and Eva, and you’ll be working out of the weather and with my Pop.’

‘I can’t be an apprentice at my age.’

‘You can. If Pop likes you, that is. He won’t even meet you if you carry on sitting on the shelf like cheese at fourpence. What’s up with you, anyway? Grown man, won’t
get dressed, carrying on like a five-year-old in a tantrum. Ridiculous.’ She tapped a foot. ‘Come on – the baby’ll be due at this rate. Just do as you’re told, because
you are outnumbered.’

Sighing dramatically, Albert did as he was bidden. She tidied his collar, straightened the tie, examined his shoes. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘You’ll pass as human as long as
you stay in the shade.’

The four friends made their reluctant way to the big house. Given a choice, each of them would have been otherwise engaged, but the judge had spoken. Or his wife had spoken. Whatever, they had
to go.

Helen trembled, but the brandy remained in its container. She didn’t need it, because Louisa would be there, and Louisa would look after her. James Taylor, the balding
eagle, had also been invited to the party, but Helen had been prepared for him. Louisa had the answers; Louisa was Helen’s prop.

‘Tell him to bugger off,’ Louisa had said. ‘You’re out of his league now. Time you started sticking up for yourself. You don’t want him, you don’t need him
– just say so.’

From her bedroom window, Helen watched caterers carrying in the last of the food and drink. She didn’t know how many people were coming, but she wasn’t looking forward to the event.
James Taylor had telephoned several times. Telephones were easier than face-to-face meetings. She had to get rid of him tonight, and he would probably run to Father with his tale of woe.

She sat down and thought about her stepmother. Married young to a man who had turned into a murderous monster, Louisa had escaped with her life, without a spleen and with one savable kidney.
After four weeks in hospital, she had gone home, had sat, had made her decision. She had recently married a man who was worth divorcing. ‘Only the very rich and the very poor can afford
divorce,’ she had advised Helen. ‘The very rich don’t miss a few thousand, while the poor have nothing to lose.’