GI Brides: The wartime girls who crossed the Atlantic for love. Duncan Barrett

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СКАЧАТЬ was surprised, but she hoped that a change of scene might help her husband. She did as he said and followed him to an address in Rabbit Row, half a mile away.

      When they arrived, she found it was a small mews street that had been badly bombed earlier in the war. But she didn’t want to complain, so she got on with the unpacking.

      The new flat didn’t seem to do anything to lighten the considerable load Lawrence was carrying, however. One day, while putting away some laundry, Margaret discovered two empty whisky bottles in his sock drawer.

      Worse, a letter arrived addressed to her from their previous landlady, Mrs Campion, demanding payment for the electricity, phone and cleaning bills, as well as the cost of the smashed electrical fire. The woman said she had spoken to Captain Rambo several times about the bills, and he had promised to pay them, but she had received nothing. So that’s why we had to leave in such a hurry, thought Margaret.

      She decided she would speak to Lawrence that night, and planned out in her head what she was going to say: that he needed to tell his superiors his workload was too large, that he needed a break and that she would help him keep on top of the bills. She just hoped that Lawrence would come home sober and at a reasonable hour.

      That afternoon, there was a knock at the door and Margaret went to answer it. She found an American military policeman waiting outside. ‘Mrs Rambo?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Ma’am, I need you to pack a bag and come with me. Your husband has been arrested.’

      ‘What for?’ Margaret asked, horrified.

      ‘I understand he’s been running up bad debts, ma’am. He’s being held in a US Army hospital in Lichfield.’

      ‘Why, what’s wrong with him?’

      ‘Suspected alcohol poisoning, ma’am. They’re drying him out before he can be court-martialled. I’m here to take you and the child up to Lichfield.’

      Margaret couldn’t believe what she was hearing. In a daze she went back into the flat to pack her bag, and then she and Rosamund left with the military policeman.

      In the car up to Staffordshire, she felt too humiliated to ask any more questions. What on earth would her father, a respected major in the British Army, think if he knew his daughter’s husband was being court-martialled? She had married Lawrence to save her family from shame, but now he was bringing it upon them anyway.

      While Lawrence was being treated, Margaret passed the time in Lichfield at the nearby Red Cross centre, where, to keep her mind off things, she volunteered to type letters for US servicemen, while Rosamund stayed in a day nursery. After a while, she was allowed to visit her husband, and was relieved to find him sitting up in bed looking rested and returned to his old self. ‘Lawrence, I’ve been so worried about you,’ she told him.

      ‘I’m sorry to worry you, my dear,’ he said, stroking her hair lovingly. ‘I got myself into a terrible mess, with all the stress of the war and the hospital bills we had for Rosamund. When I explain everything to the court they’ll understand.’

      ‘Can we go home now?’ she asked.

      ‘I’m being sent to another hospital for some tests,’ he said. ‘Routine procedure before a trial.’

      Margaret nodded. On her way out she stopped the doctor and asked where Lawrence was going. ‘He’s being transferred to the 96th General Hospital near Worcester for observation,’ he told her. ‘They have specialist psychiatric facilities there.’

      ‘But why?’ asked Margaret. ‘There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?’

      ‘We have to determine whether he’s responsible for his actions,’ the man told her. ‘That requires a neuro-psychiatric examination.’

      Before long, Lawrence was passed fit to stand trial, and once he was released from the hospital, he was taken to London for the court martial. Margaret had been called as a witness, and she travelled down separately. Her mind was in turmoil – as well as worrying about Lawrence’s impending trial, she had just learned from a doctor that she was pregnant again.

      On the day of the court martial, Margaret felt sick with shame as she watched the first witness take the stand – a Miss G. M. Blayney from the American Red Cross club on Charles Street, Mayfair. ‘That’s Captain Rambo, over there,’ she said, pointing to Lawrence, who looked down at the floor. ‘I recall cashing a cheque for him on 24 January.’

      The young woman was presented with the cheque. ‘Yes, that’s it,’ she said. ‘I took it from him and gave him ten pounds cash for it.’

      The cheque had been returned from the bank marked ‘insufficient funds’.

      ‘Thank you, Miss Blayney,’ the judge said.

      Next, a Mrs Gwendolen Sommerville was called from the Red Cross’s Jules Club. ‘I cashed a check for Captain Rambo on 15 January for ten pounds,’ she said. ‘There’s an entry in our club’s cheque registry.’

      Again, there had been no money in Lawrence’s bank account.

      One after another, women from the Red Cross clubs stood up to testify that Lawrence had obtained cash from them with cheques that were returned marked ‘insufficient funds’ or ‘no account’. Twelve times he had pulled the same trick – at the Duchess Club, the Reindeer Club, the Nurses Club, the Washington Club, Rainbow Corner – all the most famous GI hangouts in central London. In total, he had swindled them out of £103.

      Margaret was appalled. Of all the institutions to steal from, to target the Red Cross seemed beyond the pale.

      Lawrence’s bank manager, Mr Wigmore, from Barclays Bank on Oxford Street, told how Lawrence had been overdrawn for a year, by sums of as much as £96. ‘I was constantly in touch with Captain Rambo by means of personal interviews, telephone calls and letters, and was continually pressing him to repay the money he owed the bank,’ he told the court.

      No wonder Lawrence had seemed distracted and fretful all the time, thought Margaret.

      To her surprise, her own bank manager from Lloyds was also called to testify. He identified seven of the cheques written to the Red Cross and told the court: ‘These cheques were taken from a book issued to a customer who was then named Miss Boyle.’

      Margaret gasped. He had stolen her chequebook to carry out his fraud!

      Next, their old landlady, Mrs Campion, testified about the unpaid bills and the cost of the smashed electrical fire that they had left behind at 58 Pembridge Villas. ‘Captain Rambo assured me the money had been sent, but I never received anything and the amount is still due,’ she said. ‘I also wrote to Captain Rambo’s wife.’ As she spoke she caught Margaret’s eye.

      Margaret felt her cheeks go red. She wondered if the whole court thought she had known of her husband’s crimes and had been in on them.

      Luigi Martini, head waiter at Kettner’s, the restaurant where she and Lawrence had gone for their very first date, was next to point at him across the courtroom. ‘That is the gentleman I served,’ he said, in a thick Italian accent. ‘His food and drink bill came to five pounds, sixteen shillings and sixpence, and he gave me a cheque.’ Once again it was СКАЧАТЬ