Winners and Losers

by Linda Sole

  ‘I suppose I must or I wouldn’t do it,’ Alan said and his laugh was husky and warm. ‘Anyway, I’ve just pushed through a sale of some of my businesses, which will mean that I am going to have a little less to do in the immediate future. My doctor has told me that I should slow down – take a bit of a rest.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?’

  ‘I had a scare. A slight heart attack, they say. I am told that I was lucky and was warned to take things easier, which means I have to learn to delegate.’

  ‘I suppose we all have to do that in the end.’

  ‘Yes . . . well, I was wondering if I could come and stay for a few days? I have always found Vanbrough a peaceful place to be and it would be nice to see you and young Robert.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Emily said instantly. She sensed that he was lonely. He had married soon after Vane died but his wife had died in a car crash a few months later. The verdict of the inquest had been that she had been driving while under the influence of alcohol. ‘We would love to have you – and you can stay for as long as you wish.’

  ‘You are a love,’ Alan said. ‘I’m not surprised Vane fell for you, Emily. Simon didn’t deserve you. I was thinking of coming on a Saturday two weeks from now – if that will suit you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I shall look forward to it.’

  Emily smiled as she replaced the receiver. She enjoyed having visitors to Vanbrough. Her family didn’t visit often enough for her liking, but she had quite a few friends who came for long weekends. She wouldn’t invite anyone else while Alan was staying, though. He obviously needed some peace and quiet.

  Emily smothered her feelings of guilt. Alan ought to have been Vane’s heir, because neither she nor her son was blood-related – but Vane hadn’t seen it that way. He had known that Emily would carry out his wishes for Vanbrough to the best of her ability. Alan had his own life. He was wealthy, a successful businessman, and although he had just confessed to thinking Vanbrough a peaceful place, he would probably not have had the time or the desire to devote his life to it as Emily had.

  She reached out for the letter from Alice, wondering how Frances would feel about the impending visit. Frances had been a bit irritable when Emily paid her a flying visit a couple of weeks previously. She had looked tired and older, but when Emily suggested she take time off and come back to Vanbrough for an extended stay she had snapped her head off.

  ‘I have a hotel to run if you hadn’t noticed. Just because you lead a life of leisure, it doesn’t mean that we all can, Emily.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous and you know it.’ Emily felt annoyed because she had cancelled a charity meeting to make this visit to her sister. ‘I have as much and more to keep me busy as you do, Fran.’

  ‘Sitting on the board of charities and drinking coffee,’ Frances scoffed. ‘You don’t have to worry whether your bookings are up or down – or whether your suppliers are cheating you.’

  ‘Neither do you,’ Emily replied. ‘You have staff to help you, just as I do – and you don’t really need to work. You could sell this hotel and live off your investments.’

  ‘What would I do then? Sit staring at the wall and go off my head with boredom,’ Frances retorted and then shook her head. ‘Sorry, Emily. I shouldn’t take it out on you. I do miss you, you know.’

  ‘You could live with me if you wanted. I could find you something to do if you felt bored.’

  ‘I can’t do that. Sometimes I wish I were there with you, but then I start to feel bitter and angry and I know it wouldn’t be fair. I don’t want you to suffer my moods.’

  ‘Oh Fran, can’t you put it behind you? I know what Sam did to you was awful, but it is over now.’

  ‘It will never be over. I still have nightmares about being locked up somewhere . . .’ Frances broke off. ‘I love you, Emily, but I don’t want to live with you. I need my independence.’

  ‘You could have the dower house if you like. I’m going to do it up – as soon as I get the money together.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re short of money. You have thousands in pictures and silver – Vanbrough is a treasure house!’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t own it – Robert doesn’t either. It is a trust to be handed on to future generations.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Frances said. ‘Vane brainwashed you, Emily. If I were you, I should sell everything, invest the money and do something with your life. If you don’t, you may wake up one day and find it is too late.’

  ‘Is something wrong, Frances?’ Emily felt chilled as she saw the expression in her sister’s eyes.

  Frances got up and walked to look out of the window at the garden. The window was slightly open and the smell of roses wafted in on a slight breeze. Emily shivered suddenly, feeling the goose pimples rise.

  ‘No, nothing is wrong,’ Frances said at last and turned to face Emily. ‘I just think you are wasting your life there . . .’

  Emily had a vague feeling all was not well with her sister, but, whatever it was, Frances hadn’t wanted to tell her. Emily hadn’t pushed her, but now she was wondering if she ought to have asked more questions. Her hand strayed to the phone, hovering as she thought about ringing Frances, and then the door opened.

  ‘The Vicar is here, Lady Vane. He doesn’t have an appointment but he says it is important.’

  ‘Show him in, Martha.’ Emily placed Alice’s letter in her leather folder and stood up to greet her unexpected visitor. Frances was fine. She was worrying for nothing . . .

  Connor watched as Dan, Alice and Sally drove off in his car. It would be more comfortable for them on the long drive down to Cornwall, and the van was better for farm business. Connor didn’t mind taking it when he went into Ely. It wasn’t as nice as his Austin, but it didn’t matter.

  It was surprising how empty the house felt with all the kids gone, and now Dan and Alice were on their way with Sally. He had the place all to himself for a whole week. Alice had been worried about how he would mange, but Connor could fry a bit of bacon or boil an egg – and he would buy fish and chips in Ely after he’d been to the club. He was looking forward to the meeting that week, because there was a new band performing. It was the first time they had booked the Bad Boys but Connor had been told they were good. They were a Rock ’n’ Roll group who sang rhythm and blues, which was Connor’s favourite music. He had been a huge fan of jazz and blues when he was growing up, but Rock ’n’ Roll was the latest big thing in America. In England, a journalist had shortened the name Edward to Teddy and now the fashion for Edwardian-style clothes that the young men were wearing had branded them as Teddy Boys.

  Emily had laughed when she’d asked if Connor was a Teddy Boy, thinking it funny. He had said that he would be if he could afford it, because no one knew that he had one of the narrow-fitting jackets and a pair of black drainpipes in his wardrobe. Somehow he’d never found the courage to come downstairs wearing them when Alice and Dan were around, but he would wear them this evening – as well as the ‘brothel creepers’, which were his pride and joy and were hidden in a box at the top of the wardrobe.

  Connor was whistling as he went outside to start mucking out the cowsheds. Tonight he was going to dress the part and ‘strut his stuff’ at the club. He grinned as he imagined himself doing the Lindy Hop with the girl of his dreams – even though it was very unlikely that she would be there. He doubted very much if Sarah Jenkins had ever been to a jazz club in her life, which was a pity because he really liked her. He couldn’t afford to get married for years, but he thought he would like to marry a girl like Sarah when he did. He often wished he could meet her somewhere, though she probably wouldn’t look at him. As Tiddy had said, it would take six months’ wages to pay for one of the dresses she liked to wear.

  Connor thought about what he might do if he left Daniel. He would have to give his brother time to find another man to take his place, of course, but he ought to think seriously about it. He had enjoyed working on the dower house and he thought it might be
more interesting than working on the land. At least he would get to meet different people and he might earn more money.

  He was going to need more money if he wanted to marry, because he didn’t want to end up like Daniel. His brother was forever worried about paying the bills and Connor had no intention of living that way.

  ‘I’m not sure that I like the idea of you going to that club,’ Millicent Jenkins said as she looked at her daughter dubiously. Sarah was wearing a circle skirt with short white ankle socks and flat black shoes. Her long hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail and tied with a black ribbon. Her top was pink with a stand-up collar and pearl buttons, and she was wearing a pale pink lipstick. ‘Your father would have a fit if he saw you dressed like that, Sarah.’

  ‘He won’t see me, Mum. His meeting at the Masons’ lodge won’t end until nearly twelve.’ Sarah kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Please don’t worry. I’m going with Phyllis Brent and Ann Jones. I shall be home by half past ten and I won’t do anything I shouldn’t.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you go if I didn’t trust you to behave,’ her mother said. ‘But Mrs Harris was telling me that that club is where the Teddy Boys hang out and some of them have a bad reputation.’

  ‘That’s in big cities. You haven’t heard of cinema seats being torn up or damaged in Ely, have you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Mrs Jenkins admitted. ‘You are nineteen and I suppose we can’t keep you wrapped in cotton wool for ever – but please be careful and don’t get involved with any nasty types, love.’

  ‘I expect we shall dance with ourselves most of the night,’ Sarah told her, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘Phyllis has been to the club several times and Ann went last week. They told me that a lot of the girls just dance together. They said the group this week is really great.’

  ‘Do you know how to do these dances?’

  ‘I learned some of them at the youth club, Mum – and Phyllis showed me how to do the Lindy Hop at her house. Her parents were out so we had the gramophone on and danced. It was fun.’

  ‘I expect it was,’ her mother said and smiled. ‘Go on, then, you mustn’t keep your friends waiting, Sarah. Have a good time.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. I won’t be late.’ Sarah grabbed her coat from the peg in the hall, pulling it on as she left the house. She had arranged to meet her friends outside the club and she was afraid they might go in without her if she were late.

  Sarah blocked the odd sense of unease she’d felt as she left her mother. Something had made her wonder if she was feeling ill. She hoped her mother wouldn’t have one of her migraines while she was out.

  Connor and Tiddy walked into the club together. Tiddy was also wearing his drainpipes and a black and white striped shirt; he had the heavy crêpe-soled shoes that were so popular but he hadn’t got the right jacket so he wasn’t wearing one at all. He’d stared at Connor when he came out wearing his gear earlier, but hadn’t said much.

  Connor felt a bit self-conscious despite the fact that most of the young men present were wearing something similar to his outfit. The girls wore full skirts with several layers of petticoats underneath so that they stuck out and flared prettily when they jived or did the Lindy Hop. He had seen most of them here before, but he hadn’t bothered to ask many of them for a dance, even though he was pretty good at the Lindy Hop. Usually, he was content to hang out near the bar and listen to the music, but this evening he felt like joining in – perhaps because of his new clothes. Connor grinned as he admitted to himself that he wanted to show off. He knew that he was attractive to girls and, if he chose, as the evening wore on, he could take the girl he fancied outside and kiss her. Some of them would let him touch them, and he was sure a couple of the girls here this evening would allow him to go all the way if he wanted. He wasn’t interested in any of them, though, and it didn’t look as if anyone new had turned up. He was about to head for the bar as usual when he saw three girls come in together. They were giggling and looked excited, as if they were new members.

  Connor’s breath expelled in a gasp as he saw her. Sarah Jenkins – at least that was the name Tiddy had given her. He said she was stuck-up, because she wouldn’t dance with him at the church hall. Connor didn’t attend the old-fashioned dance at the hall on Saturday nights, because he wasn’t interested in that kind of dancing. He came to the club for the bands rather than the dancing, but it might be different this evening – if she would get up with him.

  ‘I’ll get the first round,’ Tiddy said. ‘Half of bitter do you?’

  ‘Don’t get me one yet,’ Connor said, not bothering to look at him. ‘I’m going to ask someone to dance.’

  He walked over to where the three girls were standing together. They looked nervous and excited, but as one of them noticed him approaching they went still and one of them nudged the other, whispering something. Connor almost turned tail. He wasn’t usually apprehensive of approaching girls, but this one was special and he felt a spasm of nerves inside.

  He stood a few paces from her, his mouth feeling unaccountably dry as he said, ‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’

  Sarah hesitated, unsure if he was speaking to her at first, and then nodded her head. ‘Yes, it is my first time. I wanted to see the Bad Boys – they’re good. At least, Phyllis says so.’

  The lead singer stepped forward and announced the next number. Connor jerked his head towards the floor. ‘Fancy trying this with me?’ he asked. ‘It’s a Lindy Hop.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Sarah answered. ‘Phyllis taught me how to do it at home, but I’m not sure I’m any good . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you,’ Connor said and offered her his hand. ‘I like this dance. It’s better than jive – more fun. Some people call it Rock ’n’ Roll, but it started before that, in the thirties and forties.’

  ‘You sound as if you know a lot about jazz and stuff?’ Sarah looked at him shyly. Connor was sure she hadn’t recognized him from the time he tried to pick her up in the street.

  ‘I know a bit,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a lot of blues and jazz records and I read about all the big American bands. I’m not an expert but I enjoy music.’

  ‘Oh, yes, so do I,’ Sarah said enthusiastically. ‘Daddy bought a record player. He likes classical music, but when he is out I play my records. I like Guy Mitchell and Doris Day – blues and rhythm too.’

  ‘I listen as much as I can,’ Connor said. ‘Mostly on the radio. I would like a portable one to take to work when we get them here.’

  ‘What do you do?’ Sarah asked.

  Connor hesitated, then said, ‘My people are farmers,’ because he thought she might change her mind if he simply said he worked on the land.

  ‘Oh . . . my Dad is a builder.’ Sarah looked shy. ‘You won’t be cross if I step on your shoes?’

  ‘You won’t. Just have fun and enjoy yourself.’

  Sarah thought that she’d never enjoyed herself so much. The first dance was a bit frightening, because she was afraid of making a fool of herself, but by the time she’d danced two more she was feeling confident.

  ‘I am having fun,’ she told Connor as their third dance ended. ‘I ought to go back to my friends for a while, but I should like to dance with you again later, if that is all right?’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘Would you mind if I brought a friend over to join you? He can dance if he wants – and I’ll ask your friends to dance too, if you like?’

  ‘You’re really good,’ Sarah said. ‘I think that would be nice – if you wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘Wouldn’t say if I did,’ Connor told her. He was about to walk away when one of the band members came to the microphone.

  ‘We have a request for anyone who fancies singing on stage with us. We’ve been told that Connor Searles sometimes comes up and does a turn. Are you out there, Mr Searles?’

  A ripple of applause went round the club and a few voices called out for Connor to go up. He hesitated for a moment, then looked apologetically at S
arah.

  ‘I’d better go. I shan’t be long.’

  ‘Oh . . .’

  Connor realized as he walked to the stage that she didn’t even know his name. They had been laughing and enjoying themselves but hadn’t bothered to exchange names.

  He was greeted on stage by more clapping and some cheering. Connor grinned because he knew he could sing, equally as well as the lead singer in this band.

  ‘Hi, Connor. I’m Terry,’ the band member said. ‘Do you know “Rock It For Me”?’

  ‘Yeah, it was an Ella Fitzgerald song,’ Connor said, feeling pleased because it was a song he knew by heart. ‘I’ve done that one before at the club.’

  ‘So I was told,’ Terry said. ‘All right – here we go, folks. “Rock It For Me” with your own heart throb Connor Searles and the Bad Boys.’

  Connor stepped up to the microphone confidently. He wished that Terry had suggested something more romantic so that he could sing directly to Sarah, but this was a good song and he knew the words and music by heart. He had a good ear and once he’d heard something a couple of times he could belt it out with the best of them.

  Sarah and her friends had come down to the front, near the stage. Some of the crowd started dancing when the music began, but about twenty girls stood and just watched as Connor sang.

  Connor put everything into his performance because he knew Sarah was watching. He’d considered it a bit of a laugh when he’d performed on stage here before, but this time he let himself go, even gyrating his hips as he’d seen a rhythm and blues singer do at the pictures once. He wondered if Sarah had any idea what the words meant. Rocking and rolling was a term for music but it was also a sly way of saying ‘have sex with me’. A lot of the songs in the blues and black music in America were to do with sex, though most people didn’t realize what the words meant. Sarah wouldn’t because she was too innocent. She wouldn’t realize that when he sang ‘rock it for me, baby’, he was saying ‘let me make love to you’.

  A storm of approval broke when he finished. The applause was prolonged and he had to do a repeat before the audience would let him go, but then he left the stage even though there were calls for another number. He walked over to where Sarah was standing with one of her friends. The one she’d called Phyllis was dancing.