It had spoiled the evening. George changed the subject to ask how Petal was, and Molly did her best to sound animated and happy when, inside, she felt hollow. George went on to tell her about two farmers in a neighbouring village who were caught up in a bitter feud. It had started when one of the farmers found his prize-winning sheepdog dead, apparently poisoned, and he was so convinced the other man had done it out of jealousy he retaliated by setting fire to his hay barn.
Normally, Molly would’ve been all too eager to hear the full story, but she wanted George to be the way he had been at the station, when he’d hugged her, to see that light in his eyes that said he thought the world of her and was excited to be alone with her in London for a few days. So she didn’t show any enthusiasm for his story. In fact, she yawned and looked pointedly at her watch.
They barely spoke on their way back to the hotel and, although George hesitated outside her door, shuffling his feet and looking sheepish, he didn’t say anything more than goodnight and that she shouldn’t get too worked up about being cross-examined in court the next day, as she probably wouldn’t be called for a day or two.
Molly slept soundly despite everything, and woke refreshed. After a very big cooked breakfast she and George decided to walk to the Old Bailey, as it wasn’t very far and they would be sitting down waiting for most of the day. Molly wasn’t one to keep up bad feeling with anyone, so she chatted normally, as if the night before had been a pleasant one.
George was in his uniform, as he was officially on duty as a witness, and he looked very smart. ‘Once witnesses have given their evidence they can watch the rest of the trial,’ he explained as they walked along. ‘It’s quite interesting watching and listening to the two opposing barristers. Sometimes, they’re just like actors, only playing to the jury instead of an audience. But I doubt I’ll be here to hear the closing speeches and the verdict. I expect I’ll be summoned back home.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Molly said. ‘I thought we had a week or so up here.’
She purposely didn’t say ‘together’, in case that was too familiar.
‘Unfortunately, police witnesses are usually called right at the start. This case is a bit more complicated than most, as Miss Gribble has pleaded not guilty to abduction, claiming that Christabel had the right as Petal’s mother to go and get her from Cassie. She claims, too, that she never touched Cassie; she just tripped over and fell. She’s also pleading not guilty to murdering Reg Coleman, though how she can maintain that story I don’t know, not when his body was found in the garden.’
‘I suppose she could claim that someone else killed him and put him in the ground. How are they going to prove it was her after all these years?’
‘I think the forensic team have got something up their sleeve and, besides, when the jury hear she locked Petal upstairs for months and was going to leave you to die of starvation I can’t see them finding her not guilty of stabbing and burying Reg when she alone had the motive and opportunity to do it.’
‘Whatever happens, it’s going to be tough for Christabel today,’ Molly said. ‘I’d hate to be in a position like hers. Miss Gribble is almost like a mother or big sister to her, and she must have loved her.’
‘I’m hoping that now she realizes just how badly she’s been betrayed, and that Miss Gribble stole her whole life it will make her speak out when she is called to give evidence.’
‘It’s funny to think such a weak woman could produce a daughter like Cassie,’ Molly said. ‘She used to tell me to stand up for myself and demand my rights. I used to think I was weak, just like my mum.’
‘You are like your mum in that you care about other people,’ George said, taking her arm as they crossed a busy road. ‘That isn’t weak. And you’ve got to remember that women of your mum’s age were told from birth that being a good wife meant never criticizing or opposing their husband.’
‘I suppose that’s okay if you’ve got a reasonable husband like your dad.’
‘Don’t ever tell my dad that! Mum is the boss in our house. She’s just good at making him think he is. She was even the one who proposed!’
Molly giggled. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. Apparently, he’d been hinting at it for months, but never came right out with it. He hadn’t even dared to say he loved her. So she got cross with him, and just said she was tired of it all, she loved him and wanted to get married, but if he didn’t feel the same he was to admit it and then clear off.’
‘That was brave of her! Most women would feel a man was just stringing her along if he didn’t speak about his feelings, or that he was rather pathetic.’
George’s head whipped round to look at her. Molly felt herself blushing and she hoped that, by just looking ahead, she would appear nonchalant.
Neither of them was called on the first day of the trial; they just had to sit and wait. At first Molly enjoyed watching people coming in, wondering who they were and what crime they were involved in, but that soon wore off and she began to feel cold and bored. The time passed very slowly, even with George to chat with.
Her mind wandered and she began to think how far she’d come since that first time in London for her interview at Bourne & Hollingsworth. She’d been scared to eat in a café, terrified she’d get lost on the underground and convinced she stood out as a naïve country girl. What a lot she’d seen and done since then! She’d been sacked from her job, almost raped by the man in Soho, gone to live in the East End and then got the job at the George. And she’d done what she set out to do: to find Petal and see Cassie’s killer brought to justice.
There had been some terrible times but some very good ones, too. She’d made a friend for life in Dilys, and Ted and Evelyn had become almost family. She could thank Cassie and Constance for expanding her mind and making her realize that she wasn’t weak. London had played its part in rounding her out but, although it would always be an exciting place to visit, she was very glad she didn’t have to live or work here any more.
She could imagine Cassie smiling down at her. She felt her friend would think she’d turned up trumps. Not just for saving Petal, but for saving herself from becoming a cowed little mouse like her mother.
That evening she and George went to the pictures. He wanted to see On the Waterfront, starring Marlon Brando, but Molly insisted she had to see Carmen Jones, with Dorothy Dandridge, and somewhat reluctantly George agreed.
She loved it, as she knew she would, because the music was so moving, and she cried several times. George admitted as they came out that he had been close to tears, too, and that he had loved the film, but said he was going to drag her to see On the Waterfront the following night.
He hadn’t held her hand or even put his arm around her in the cinema but, when they got back to the hotel, he kissed her goodnight outside her room.
It was a delicious kiss, slow, sensual and toe curling, but George pulled away from her and smiled down at her. ‘Bed for you. I wish I could come in and share it, but I promised your mum I wouldn’t take advantage just because we were in a hotel together.’
‘I think I’m old enough to decide for myself whether I would welcome a man in my room,’ she said jokingly.
‘I agree, but a promise is a promise and, anyway, we may need to have our wits about us tomorrow,’ he said. ‘But can I just add that there would be nothing I’d like better than to spend the night with you.’
Molly closed the bedroom door behind her and stood leaning against it for a moment in a daze. He’d finally admitted he wanted her. Was that because she’d put him under pressure by talking about weak men? Or because he really meant it?