Winners and Losers

by Linda Sole

  Frances knew that the kind of loneliness she felt came from within. It was a black well that would swallow her up one day. She would be sucked down into the darkness and that would be the end. Sometimes she wished that the end would come quickly, but then she was afraid. If she could be sure that it would be the end of pain – a quiet peace that would let her rest – then she would welcome death, but she sometimes saw visions of hell.

  A little cry of fear left her lips. Were the demons that plucked at her flesh real or imagined? Sam had said she was mad, and perhaps she was – perhaps she would not die but live on in chains of madness . . .

  No, she wasn’t mad! Sam was playing tricks on her, taking his revenge from the grave. He couldn’t do that, could he? Frances hadn’t killed him, but she thought she knew who had. Rosalind, Sam’s wife, had hinted at something. Frances hadn’t told anybody. She’d been glad that he was dead – that he couldn’t haunt her any more.

  She looked towards the corner of the room. Sam was there. Staring at her from empty sockets where his eyes had once been. His flesh had turned to dripping sores and he raised his arm to point at her.

  ‘Come and join me, Fran . . .’

  ‘No!’ Frances cowered away, covering her eyes with her hands. He wasn’t really there. He was just one of the hallucinations she was having from time to time. The doctor had told her she might as her condition got worse, but it was happening so quickly. She had thought she would have more time. She must write to Emily. She wanted Emily. She was afraid she might have done something stupid. She wanted Emily to know before it was too late.

  She got up and walked unsteadily towards her desk, but before she could get there her head started whirling. She gave a gasp and stretched her hands out in front of her as she fell . . .

  Connor was thoughtful as he drove into Ely the next morning. He had been rehearsing what he wanted to say to Sarah, but he wasn’t sure she would believe him – or that she would even see him. He had let her down. Carried away by success, he had gone along with the others and the record company. He should have fixed a date for the wedding and married the girl he loved. Sarah could have come with him on the road until they found somewhere to live. If she had, this stupid business would never have happened.

  He was feeling apprehensive as he knocked at the door. Mrs Jenkins opened it and told him to come in.

  ‘Please wait in the sitting room, Connor,’ she said in a flat, cold voice. ‘Sarah will join you in a moment. I believe she has something to tell you.’

  Connor didn’t much like the sound of that, though he knew he was lucky Sarah would even see him. He waited until he heard the sound of her footsteps, turning as she opened the door and entered. She looked lovely, very beautiful and young.

  ‘Sarah,’ he said. ‘It isn’t true, please believe me. I wouldn’t do anything like that! You must know I wouldn’t . . .’

  ‘Daddy told me he believes you. I was very hurt, Connor. I cried all night, because I hated reading those terrible things. It was awful.’

  ‘None of them were true. I love you. I just want to get married and forget about singing.’

  ‘No!’ Sarah flushed as he looked at her. ‘I mean, I’m not sure. Even if I believe you, it makes no difference. All the stories about you and other girls I read in the papers. Some of it has to be true, Con. I don’t want to live that way – never sure where you are or what you are doing . . .’

  ‘It wouldn’t be that way,’ Connor said. ‘I haven’t made up my mind what I should do yet, but I want us to be together all the time. I’ll buy us a nice house and start some kind of a business. Please don’t say it is over, Sarah. I do love you . . .’

  He moved towards her, but she jumped back as if she were afraid of him. Connor stood absolutely still. Did she think he would harm her?

  ‘Listen to me,’ she said. ‘I’m going away for a long holiday with Mum. We’re going to Bournemouth. While we’re away I’ll think about what you’ve said – and then I’ll decide.’

  Connor stared at her and suddenly he was angry. If she loved him, she wouldn’t believe one word of those lies; she would want to get married straight away. She had liked having a boyfriend other girls wanted at the start, but now she was behaving like a silly child.

  ‘Be careful you don’t take too long to decide,’ he said in a cold voice. ‘Because I might change my mind.’

  He walked past her to the door, carried by his anger.

  ‘Connor – you don’t mean that! You can’t expect me to forgive you just like that!’

  Connor turned to look at her. ‘You have nothing to forgive,’ he said. ‘I had plenty of chances but like an idiot I stayed true to you. Grow up, Sarah. Start thinking like a woman instead of a child.’

  He left her standing there and went out the front door, letting it slam behind him deliberately. He loved Sarah but he wasn’t going to beg. If she loved him, she would know that he hadn’t been playing around, no matter what the papers said.

  He was a damned fool to care!

  Connor had driven half the way home before pain took over from the anger. He loved Sarah and he was fairly certain he had just burned his boats. She would hate him now for sure – and her mother would tell her it was good riddance to bad rubbish.

  ‘I’m really not surprised,’ Sarah’s mother said when she went into the parlour and found her daughter in tears. ‘I’ve never thought he was the right one for you, dearest. I didn’t want to put pressure on you, but you can find someone much nicer – much more our sort.’

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ Sarah said and blew her nose hard. ‘I don’t want someone like that – nice and dull. I want Connor. He makes me come alive and I love him.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you tell him so?’

  Sarah shook her head. She ran from the room because she was going to cry again if she listened to her mother. Connor had always run after her, told her repeatedly that she was wonderful and that he loved her. It had shocked her when he told her he might not wait while she made up her mind – and then he’d said she should grow up!

  Throwing herself on the bed, she wept until she couldn’t cry any more. She got up and went into the bathroom, bathing her face with cold water. She looked such a mess and now she was angry again. How could Connor say such things to her – and after what he’d done too!

  But what had he really done that was so wrong? Sarah knew the girls threw themselves at him; it had happened when they’d been out together and at the local dances before he started making records. He always grinned and answered them in a friendly way, but he hadn’t shown any interest. He said it was a part of the job, and in her heart Sarah knew he hadn’t raped that girl. Connor wouldn’t do anything like that – even when he was angry with her he’d just walked away.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and thought about things – about what she would do if she didn’t marry Connor. She had a good job at the dress shop but she only really came alive when she was with Connor, in his arms, kissing him. Even if he had flirted with some of the girls, it didn’t really matter, because he loved her – at least he had loved her.

  Sarah didn’t know what to do. She was going away with her mother for two weeks. She couldn’t change that and she didn’t want to, because she still needed time to think – away from her friends and people she knew.

  Besides, she wasn’t going to run after Connor like one of his groupies. He would come back. If he loved her, he would come back and ask her to forgive him. She refused to think about what she would do if he simply accepted that it was over between them . . .

  ‘Yes, I spoke to Sarah,’ Connor said when Alice asked him. ‘She says she needs time to think about it – but I can’t see what needs thinking about. Either she loves me or she doesn’t. I think it is over between us, Alice.’

  ‘Surely not? You’re upset, Connor – angry. You need time to calm down and get used to the idea that Sarah isn’t perfect.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She is lovely and you lov
e her – but we all have our faults,’ Alice said. ‘She is upset, Connor, and she has been a bit silly, but it doesn’t mean she won’t come to her senses when she’s had a little time. Besides, she is young and you have to make allowances for that.’

  ‘Maybe she is too much of a child to think about getting married,’ Connor said. ‘I think her mother wants her to break it off with me.’

  ‘She won’t if she loves you. She didn’t say it was over – did she?’

  Connor shook his head. ‘No, just that she needed time to think things over. I told her not to take too long.’

  ‘That was a bit harsh,’ Alice said with a gentle smile. ‘Why don’t you go back and see her this evening?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Connor looked stubborn. ‘I’m going back to London to talk to some lawyers and then I think I’ll visit Emily.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not making a mistake?’

  ‘I’m not certain of anything,’ Connor told her. ‘But I’ve no intention of begging. Sarah wants time to think, so I’ll give it to her.’

  He walked upstairs, still feeling raw with hurt pride. Sarah couldn’t think much of him or she wouldn’t need time when he asked her to marry him. He hadn’t touched that girl and he was going to fight back, but anyone who knew him should know in their heart that he was innocent.

  ‘Lady Vane? This is Tara Manners. I work for Mrs Danby . . .’

  ‘Yes, I remember you,’ Emily said, feeling a little shiver down her spine. ‘Is something wrong? Frances is all right, isn’t she?’

  ‘She says she is,’ Tara said. ‘She had a faint or something yesterday and I called the doctor to her. He ordered her to bed, but she seems better this morning. She said it was just a little chill that turned to a fever, but I have a feeling there is something more serious.’

  ‘Why? I don’t understand.’

  ‘She has seemed strange recently – not quite herself.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Forgetful . . . hesitant . . . I’m not sure how to put it, but she isn’t the same.’

  ‘I see. Is Frances in the hotel?’

  ‘She went out for a walk.’

  ‘I shall telephone her later.’

  ‘You won’t say that I rang you?’

  ‘No, I shan’t mention you, Tara. Thank you for telephoning. I shall speak to my sister this evening.’

  Emily replaced the receiver. She frowned as she went to look for Alan. It was almost four months since she’d seen Frances, and that had been just a flying visit to deliver Christmas presents. It must be six weeks since she had spoken to her sister. She had been so wrapped up with Alan that she hadn’t noticed the time slipping by. She wondered whether she ought to pop down to the hotel rather than just telephoning. She would have a word with Alan and see if he had any plans for the next week or so. He could come with her if he chose.

  ‘Have you seen Mr Leicester?’ she asked the housekeeper as they met in the hall.

  ‘I believe he went to the garden on the west side, ma’am. He said he wanted to make the most of the fine weather.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can find him,’ Emily said. ‘We’ll have tea in the small parlour in half an hour, please.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Emily parted from her and went through several parlours at the front of the house until she came to what was known as the music room. It overlooked the west garden and there was a French window, which led down some stone steps into a sunken garden surrounded by a grey stone wall. As she opened the long windows and went out on to the terrace her eyes travelled over the beautiful scenery: tall trees, a lily pool and smooth lawns. It was quite a fine view of the house from the end of this garden, and sure enough Alan’s easel had been set up in a vantage spot. However, he did not seem to be sitting there. Her gaze moved on to the lily pond and what she saw made her give a little cry of alarm. Alan appeared to be lying half in and half out of the pool. He must have gone to look at it and slipped or fainted.

  Emily went quickly down the steps towards where his body lay. Fortunately, his face was not in the water or he might have drowned. She felt for a pulse – it was there, though very faint. She made a brief examination, but nothing appeared to be broken. He must have had a seizure or a blackout. Emily got to her feet. She spotted someone in the house and waved her arms, calling out for help.

  A man came to the French windows. As he left the music room and started walking towards her, she saw that it was her brother Connor. Emily frowned because she had received a letter from Alice that morning. She had known that the stories in the newspapers must be lies, of course, but Alice’s letter had confirmed it.

  ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she said as he sprinted to join her. ‘I was going to try and telephone you, but now you’re here and we can talk – but first I need help. Alan seems to have had a blackout or something. I wonder if you can manage to carry him into the house so that the doctor can see him in his room?’

  ‘I can manage that,’ Connor said. ‘But are you sure we should move him?’

  ‘I don’t think he has broken anything. We can’t leave him here. The doctor might be ages before he gets here. Can you lift him alone or shall I get someone to help you?’

  ‘I think I can carry him. I might be a singer these days but I’ve carried dead weights enough on the farm.’

  ‘He isn’t dead!’ Emily cried. ‘I know you didn’t mean it that way . . . I’m in a panic. Please help him, Connor. He has been ill but I thought he was so much better . . .’

  Connor bent and lifted the man. He was heavy but manageable, at least for a short distance. He hoisted Alan over his shoulder as he would a heavy sack of wheat and walked into the parlour. Emily followed behind, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

  ‘Put him on the sofa and I’ll get someone to help you take him to his room,’ she said. ‘Poor Alan. I am afraid he may be really ill this time.’

  ‘He doesn’t look too good,’ Connor said. ‘Chin up, Emily love – he isn’t dead yet.’

  Connor was in the music room looking through his sister’s record collection when she came back downstairs after the doctor’s visit. He saw she was looking upset and guessed the news could not be good.

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Alive but still unconscious,’ Emily replied. ‘I think he must have known this was coming but he hadn’t said anything about feeling unwell. I am so glad he is still here. He was talking about leaving for France next week.’

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t want it to happen here.’

  ‘No, he would hate to think he was a trouble to me – but, of course, he never could be.’ Emily caught back a sob. ‘He told me he was ill when he asked if he could stay here last year, but he was doing what his doctor told him. I thought . . . he would have several years.’

  ‘You love him, don’t you?’

  ‘I am certainly very fond of him,’ Emily said. ‘I tried not to let myself love, because I seem to lose every man I care about – lovers, I mean.’ She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. ‘What about you, Con? This rubbish in the papers is scandalous. You should sue them.’

  ‘I’ve been in touch with a lawyer. I tried to speak to Lisa and her father but they wouldn’t see me. My lawyer says it’s best if I stay clear and leave it to him. He says he’ll get someone to find out more about her and see what he can come up with.’ He raked his hair back from his temples. ‘Trouble is, Sarah seems to believe the stories – at least she is fed up reading them.’

  ‘Has she broken off the engagement?’

  ‘Not yet, but I think her mother is trying to persuade her.’

  ‘I am so sorry, Con. This is rotten luck, especially when you were doing so well.’

  ‘I’ll get over it. I’d almost had enough of being on the road anyway. It isn’t as glamorous as it sounds, Emily.’

  ‘No, I don’t imagine it is. Have you thought what you will do?’

  ‘I’m still trying to work that one out,’ Connor repli
ed ruefully. ‘I couldn’t go back to working on the land. I wouldn’t fit in any more – and I need to move on. I just have to think of something I could do that would interest me.’

  ‘You know you are welcome to stay here until you come to a decision. I have more than enough room . . .’ Emily sighed. ‘I managed to get the repairs done at the dower house. They cost me an arm and a leg – all of the money I got from selling those pictures. Unfortunately, they didn’t fetch as much as I hoped, though one did reach its reserve at auction, thanks to your suggestion. However, the house is ready for tenants to move into. I have it with an agent but so far no takers.’

  ‘You’re not having much luck either.’ Connor was thoughtful. ‘This is such a beautiful place, Emily. It seems a pity that more people can’t see it . . .’ He looked thoughtful and Emily gave him a little poke in his arm.

  ‘What are you thinking now?’

  ‘I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels these past months – some luxurious ones and some right dumps. Have you ever thought about the potential this house has, Emily?’

  ‘You mean . . . turn it into a hotel?’ Emily stared at him. ‘I couldn’t do that, Con. It is Robert’s heritage and God knows what Vane would have thought! Besides, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to start.’

  ‘You wouldn’t need to open all of it – perhaps the East Wing? You would need more bathrooms and washbasins, toilets – but you could soon learn all you need about hotel management.’

  ‘I don’t have time,’ Emily said with a shake of her head. ‘Besides, I couldn’t think of it . . . No, it isn’t possible. I’ll manage somehow.’

  ‘I think Vane would say it was a good idea,’ Connor said. ‘No, don’t look like that, Emily. If he knew what a struggle it was for you to keep everything together, he would tell you that you should either sell or make it a business. You could open the estate to the public; let them pay to look round the gardens, and use one wing as accommodation for guests.’

  ‘You make it sound so easy,’ Emily said and sighed. ‘Even if I thought Vane would have agreed, I’m not sure I could handle all the work it involves – and it would cost a lot of money to set up.’