Two for Sorrow by Nicola Upson Page A

happens.’
    Marjorie wrenched her hand away, accidentally catching the glass as she did so and knocking it to the floor. Blinded by anger and terrified that her father spoke the truth, she picked up one of the broken pieces and thrust it towards him. As he held his hands up to protect his face, Marjorie—for the first time in her life—felt stronger than he was. The balance of power in their relationship had suddenly shifted. How could she not have noticed that he had become an old man? The realisation seemed to shock her father as much as it did her: he made no attempt to speak to her as she placed the glass gently back on the table and left the pub.

Chapter Four
    Josephine emerged from the newspaper room at the British Museum with her hands as covered in ink as her notebook, her mind full of the varying press accounts of the trial: the verbatim witness testimonies found in The Times ; the lively opinions put forward by the Echo ; and the Telegraph ’s lengthy descriptive commentaries. Before leaving the building, she couldn’t resist straying for a moment into the Museum’s great domed Reading Room. She sat down at one of the leather-covered reading desks which extended like spokes from the circles of bookcases in the middle of the room and, while the reports were still fresh in her mind, summarised the most interesting aspects of the Sach and Walters case. She had no idea yet how the story would be told but, when she had finished, she was pleased to see that there was a compelling series of scenes to recreate. To a mind untrained in law, the trial and lack of evidence for the defence threw up a number of questions which she looked forward to talking through with Archie. Having read more about the case, though, it seemed that her original instinct had been a good one: it was the balance of power between the two women which would drive the novel, and the effect it had on those around them. The social circumstances of the time were interesting, too: she had been astonished at how many other accounts of child neglect, cruelty and abandonment she had found in the pages of thepress without looking very hard for them. Celia had been right: Sach and Walters were certainly not unique in their crimes; she had identified at least four other baby farmers operating during the same period.
    She walked out into a pleasant haze of winter sunshine and headed back to the Cowdray Club for lunch, her spirits lifted after the misery of the morning by the brisk freshness of the day. In fact, if the last week was anything to go by, November in London certainly didn’t deserve its bad press. It was cold, certainly, but the trees in Cavendish Square were still in leaf and, although the drift of gold that ran through the branches was a muted, poignant affair, there was no doubt that this month of scarlets and yellows held its own beauty.
    â€˜Miss Tey! What a lovely surprise!’
    Josephine glanced across the street and was astonished to see Archie’s detective sergeant, Bill Fallowfield, standing at the entrance to the club. Celia was with him and, judging by the impatient look on her face, he had broken off an important conversation to greet her.
    â€˜The surprise is mutual, Bill,’ she said, smiling warmly. She had a soft spot for the sergeant, and admired the loyalty and good humour that—by Archie’s own admission—saw them both through the most difficult of times. ‘What brings you to this side of town? A spot of early Christmas shopping?’
    â€˜I should be so lucky, Miss,’ he said. ‘No, I do all mine on Christmas Eve, I’m afraid.’
    He stopped discreetly short of revealing his business at the club, and Josephine was careful to hide how much she knew. ‘The stealing?’ she asked, turning pointedly to Celia, who nodded. ‘Is it really that serious?’
    â€˜I’m afraid so. Nothing very valuable has been taken, as Isaid, but that’s not