Mrs Osbourne Regrets

‘Darling you don’t have to try and convince me,’ I replied with a reassuring wave of the hand. ‘Whatever makes you happy.’

‘Thank you mummy,’ she smiled warmly, her pretty face lighting up. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

The doorbell rang and I left it for Mrs Laine to attend to. Occasionally people had the audacity to drop by and request Charles’ time, as though by being an MP it made him public property and there to solve the most trivial problems at the drop of a hat.

‘I was thinking of making Natalie a bridesmaid,’ Daphne continued. ‘Perhaps if she had something like a wedding to focus on then she wouldn’t behave so badly for you and daddy.’

I glanced at Duncan and could see the embarrassment upon his face. This was not the time to be discussing family matters.

‘We’ll see,’ was the only response I gave, drawing a line under the subject.

There was a knock on the door, and before I could even say ‘come in’, it opened. Mrs Laine stood there ashen faced, as though she had seen a ghost.

‘Could you come outside please Mrs Osbourne?’ she asked quietly.

‘Who is it?’ I replied, letting her hear the irritation in my voice.

‘It’s the police,’ she answered.

‘The police? What do they want?’

‘To speak to you.’

I apologised to my daughter and her fiancé and left the room, closing the door behind me.

‘They’re in the dining room,’ Mrs Laine said, gesturing to the room at the back of the house.

I thanked my housekeeper for her assistance and went into the dining room to be greeted by two men, one a young PC in uniform; the other, I presumed to be a detective – a burly man with dark hair and a raincoat, looking like something from a cheap B-Movie.

‘Mrs Diana Osbourne?’ he asked, his voice gruff and almost disrespectful, like his being here was a nuisance to him.

‘Yes,’ I replied.

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Hall, this is PC Jones. I’m sorry to inform you that your husband The Right Honourable Charles Osbourne was arrested this afternoon and is currently being held at Mornington Grove Police station.’

‘Arrested?’ I uttered. ‘Charles? What has he done?’

The detective cleared his throat and the young PC looked to the ground, a blush coming to his cheeks.

‘Your husband was arrested along with a number of other men in a public lavatory in Regents Park.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I replied, wondering why anyone would be arrested for using a public lavatory.

The detective rocked back on his heels, squared his shoulders and looked me in the eye and for the first time I could see how painful this was for him. His abruptness was rooted in embarrassment, not contempt.

‘Your husband was caught performing indecent acts with another man.’

At that moment all time stood still and I became convinced I was dreaming. This was so far-fetched it couldn’t possibly be true and in a moment I would awake and find I’d dozed off in my armchair, awaiting Duncan and Daphne’s arrival. Why on earth would my husband want to commit indecent acts with another man? He wasn’t queer. How could he be queer? We’d been married for twenty-one years.

‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this madam,’ Hall said. ‘I also feel it my duty to warn you that as he was being brought to the station, a reporter from the Daily Sketch was there and I’m afraid it’s likely to be in the newspapers tomorrow.’