Winners and Losers

by Linda Sole

  ‘I hope you will like it there. I’m sure you will love Emily – and she will love you.’

  ‘I am looking forward to meeting her.’

  ‘We’ll go down in a couple of days. I want you to meet Dan and Alice first. I lived with them for a long time.’

  ‘We’ll go there tomorrow,’ Sarah said and then looked shy. ‘About the hotel, Con . . . I think we should take just one room . . .’

  Twelve

  Emily sat on by Alan’s bedside as the light faded. He had slipped away from her an hour or so earlier. They had said their goodbyes and then he had just gone to sleep – peacefully, quietly, with dignity. In a few minutes she would have to call a doctor, begin all the process that went with death, but she wanted this gentle time first. Once the doctor arrived it would break the link and she would have to let go. For a few moments longer he belonged just to her.

  ‘I am going to miss you so much, my dearest,’ she told him. ‘But I shan’t be sad, because you wouldn’t want me to be sad. We were so lucky to have that little time together. I shall treasure the memory, my love.’

  ‘I loved you so much,’ she seemed to hear Alan’s voice as a breath of air in her ear. ‘I wanted to set you free.’

  ‘And you did for a while,’ she said, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. When she was with Alan, in his arms, wrapped about with his love, she had been young again. She had forgotten all the cares and the duties this house imposed on her. She had been just Emily Searles again. Now she was Lady Vane once more.

  She bent to place a last kiss on Alan’s cold lips. It was her final farewell. A mantle of serenity had settled about her shoulders as she went down the stairs to her study. She picked up the telephone and rang her doctor. A few words and it was done. He was on his way. Everything would be done as it should be. Alan had asked to be buried here in the churchyard so that he could be near to her.

  ‘When you need company you can bring me flowers,’ he had told her with his gentle smile.

  Emily got up and went to look at the portrait of her father-in-law. Vane glared down at her, colder in oil than he had ever been in life – to her at least. His portrait was a faithful representation of the face he had shown to the world.

  ‘I’m going to do it, Vane,’ she said. ‘I’m going to do as Connor suggested. I shall open the gardens to the public on two days a week in the summer – and I’m going to convert the East Wing into a hotel.’

  ‘Of course you are, Emily. And about time too . . .’

  Vane’s voice was so clear, so real, that for a moment she thought he had actually spoken to her. It was a long, long time since she’d had that sensation, but for a moment she thought his portrait was smiling at her.

  ‘I’m going mad, of course,’ she said and laughed. ‘Even if it is only in my head, I am taking that as agreement, Vane. It is the only thing I can do. It would be difficult on my own, but Connor will help me – and perhaps Sarah will take an interest. I haven’t met her yet, but I’m sure she will be nice if Connor loves her.’

  Silence reigned. If Vane had an opinion on the matter, he wasn’t sharing it. Emily laughed. She was such a fool! She should take the advice of those that loved her and cut free while she was still young enough to have some life – but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t sell Vanbrough because she loved it as much as Vane had – and he had known it.

  ‘You were a wise old devil,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I hate you, Vane, but you knew me better than I knew myself.’

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Connor asked softly as he closed the door of the hotel room behind them. ‘I can wait until we’re—’ He broke off as Sarah pressed two fingers to his lips and he kissed them. ‘I love you so much. I’ve wanted this so much, my darling . . .’

  ‘So have I,’ she said and smiled at him. ‘I don’t know how you put up with me for so long, Con. I was a silly little girl. It was ridiculous to keep saying no when we both wanted it . . .’

  ‘I wouldn’t have you any other way,’ he told her. His hand reached out, stroking her hair and then caressing her cheek and her throat. ‘You are perfect, Sarah. The only girl I’ve loved – or ever will love.’

  ‘And you’re the only one for me,’ she said, lifting her face for his kiss. She sighed as his lips caressed hers, tongue pushing inside her mouth, tasting her, and she melted into him, her body dissolving, becoming fluid in the heat of love. ‘Make love to me. I want to be yours . . .’

  ‘You are mine – now and for always.’ He reached out, undoing the button at her throat and then kissing the pulse spot. ‘I’ll be as gentle as I can, darling. I think it hurts the first time . . .’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I just want it to happen now – with you.’

  Connor took her hand and led her towards the bed. He unfastened her buttons and slipped the silky blouse over her shoulders. It slipped to the floor. Her jeans soon followed it, as did the pale pink bra and French knickers. He looked at her in wonder, touching her softly with searching fingers, cupping her breasts, licking at them delicately. Then he was tearing his own clothes off, impatient to feel the satin of her flesh next to his. They lay down together and he drew her closer, kissing her lips, her throat and her breasts. His hands caressed and explored her, making her moan with pleasure as she discovered unknown sensations that had her trembling. His hand slid between her thighs, touching her lightly and then more firmly as she arched beneath him.

  When he slid his body over hers, Sarah stretched her legs wide, offering herself to him. He nudged at her with his urgent need, slipping into the warmth of her wetness, moving carefully at first and then thrusting deeper. He felt the resistance give, heard her muffled cry of pain which became lost as he kissed her. She clung to him with her legs and he knew that she wanted him to continue. Pain and passion mingled as he broke through and they became one, joined by love and their mutual need.

  After it was over, Sarah lay pressed into him, her legs still curled around him, her face against his throat. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she held on, needing the warmth of his body. She was wildly happy and deeply miserable all at once. Con had given her something special, but the horror of her mother’s death was still there. She couldn’t have slept alone, because the nightmare would have haunted her, but wrapped in his arms she fell into a peaceful sleep at last.

  Connor held her. He smiled as the night faded and the first rays of dawn crept in at the window. Sarah was his and the future looked bright. He knew she was grieving for her mother, but the pain would ease. He would make it go away, because he would give her more love than she’d ever had in her life. He would make her laugh and then she would forget the sadness in her heart.

  Emily sat at her desk and reached for the glass of wine she had poured. Connor and Sarah were arriving the next day. She had been glad that they’d decided to go off on their own for a few days after they had visited with Daniel and Alice. She had wanted to get the funeral over before they moved in. The news that Sarah’s mother had committed suicide was shocking and she had suggested that it would be better if they did not come until Alan was buried.

  She had asked a few of Alan’s friends and hers back to the house, but they had gone now. She was alone apart from her staff, but they would not intrude on her unless she rang for them. She had a mountain of work waiting for her, letters to write and people to telephone.

  Business could wait for a moment. She would have liked to talk to Alice. Connor had told her about the amazing thing Alice had done in taking in Dan’s illegitimate son. Dan had never told her what happened the night he took Maura home during the war. Apparently, he hadn’t known that she’d had his child until recently.

  It was tragic the way it had all happened, David’s mother dying in a traffic accident and his grandmother dying of a stroke in Ireland. Alice might have said the boy had to go to a home, but she hadn’t. Emily applauded her for that, because it couldn’t have been easy to accept that Dan had a son – and she already had four chi
ldren of her own.

  Emily’s hand moved to the telephone. It was time she rang Frances again. She needed to be in touch with her family. Sometimes she got caught up in work and it wasn’t right to neglect those she cared for too often. Just as she reached for the phone, it rang, making her jump. She picked up the receiver.

  ‘Lady Vane speaking. How may I help you?’

  ‘Lady Vane, this is Tara Manners. I am very sorry, but I have to tell you that Mrs Danby died this afternoon. Her brother was with her. He called the doctor when she was taken ill, but it was too late by the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital.’

  ‘Frances is dead?’ Emily was stunned. It was as if all the breath had been knocked out of her. ‘I had no idea she was ill. Why didn’t anyone tell me? You said her brother was with her – do you mean Daniel?’

  ‘No, it was Mr Clay Searles. He came down with his wife a few days ago. I am so glad he was here, because it . . . was not pleasant. She was screaming . . . her head hurt so much and she had hallucinations. Mr Searles told me that she had a brain tumour. The doctors thought she would have longer, apparently, but it got worse all of a sudden; they don’t know why. I suppose they will do an autopsy.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Emily said, feeling cold all over. ‘You mean she knew she was ill but she didn’t tell me? Why didn’t someone tell me?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone knew,’ Tara Manners said. ‘Mr Searles may have had some idea, because he didn’t seem surprised, but Mrs Danby certainly didn’t tell any of us.’

  ‘I can’t talk to you now,’ Emily said, because she couldn’t think straight. ‘I will telephone tomorrow about the funeral.’

  ‘Mr Searles has that all in hand. He has gone to the undertakers now. He said he would let you know – but I thought I should ring you first.’

  ‘Thank you, it was good of you.’

  Emily replaced the receiver. She was too stunned and too distressed to take in what was happening. Frances was dead. She must have been ill for some time but she hadn’t told her family – except that Tara Manners thought she might have told Clay.’

  ‘Oh, Frances . . .’ Emily said brokenly. ‘Why – why didn’t you tell me?’ Why hadn’t Frances wanted her to know? Why hadn’t she come to her so that they could be together? ‘I could have comforted you . . .’

  Could anything have comforted Frances? She had known that she was going to die within a certain time – and she must have known it wasn’t going to be pleasant or easy.

  She didn’t deserve this! Emily was filled with anger. Why should it happen to Frances? Frances had always been so lucky when she was young. She had married a man who seemed to have everything. Emily had envied her at one time, but then it had all gone wrong for Frances.

  ‘Hadn’t she suffered enough?’ Emily cried. ‘Don’t you have any pity?’

  She wasn’t sure who she was talking to, because sometimes it seemed that God didn’t exist. How could there be a higher being when things like this happened? They said God was kind and gentle and good, but Emily didn’t believe it. How could a loving God let this happen?

  She felt the tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t cried this way for years. She had felt sad when Alan died, but not this tearing, hurtful grief, this sense of bitter frustration.

  ‘Oh, Frances,’ she wept. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Frances would have told her if she’d gone down to see her. But Emily had been too wrapped up in her own life. She felt a slashing regret that she hadn’t made time to see Frances somehow. She would never forgive herself and she would never stop wishing that she had gone down when Tara Manners had told her that Frances had fainted that day.

  Of course, it wasn’t a simple faint. It was a blackout, but Frances had kept it to herself – just as she had kept her problems to herself all those years before . . .

  Alice opened the door to the boy and saw the telegram in his hand. She hated telegrams, ever since the one they had received during the war to say that Daniel was missing, believed dead. She took the telegram from the boy and went back inside the house. It was addressed to Daniel and she knew it had to be urgent, because no one sent a telegram unless it was bad news.

  Daniel was out in the barn working on one of his cars. She went out to him, her stomach tying itself in knots.

  ‘Dan . . .’

  He looked up in surprise as she held the small yellowish envelope out to him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘A telegram.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ He took it from her and ripped the envelope open, a soft curse escaping as he read what was inside. ‘This is from Emily – Frances is dead. Apparently, she had a brain tumour . . .’

  ‘Oh no!’ Alice felt sick, shaken. She stared at him in dismay. ‘Dan, why didn’t she tell someone? Why didn’t Emily tell us?’

  ‘She didn’t know. She has asked me to telephone her straight away. I’d better find a phone box and ring her now.’

  ‘Yes. I’m so sorry, Dan. I feel terrible. Frances asked us for Christmas and we didn’t go . . .’

  ‘If she’d said something . . .’ Daniel shook his head. ‘It’s no excuse, I know. I should have made time to take you and the kids more often. I always thought there would be plenty of time in the future.’

  ‘Everyone always thinks that,’ Alice said with tears in her eyes. ‘Sometimes time just runs out.’

  Daniel was pensive as he drove into Stretton. Frances dying so suddenly had left him feeling stunned. He found himself remembering the times when Frances had been his big sister. She’d taken him up the street to buy sweets when he was just a lad. He’d come home from the war just after his father died and Frances had been about to get married. After that he hadn’t seen her all that much – until Marcus died, and then he had thought she was behaving foolishly, but he hadn’t known what Sam Danby was doing to her.

  ‘Frances, I’m sorry.’

  Daniel wasn’t sure whether he was apologizing for not knowing what was going on when she was in trouble years earlier or not sensing something was wrong these past months.

  She had seemed fine the last time he’d seen her, but, of course, that was months ago. He had meant to phone her but he’d tried once and been told she was out. After that he had just let it slip.

  Daniel wondered what would happen about the money he had borrowed from Frances. She had said he could pay it back when he was ready, but it might depend on what the lawyers had to say . . . But he shouldn’t be thinking of that at a time like this! He was ashamed of himself for worrying about his personal plans when Frances had just died.

  Emily would be devastated. She had been closer to Frances than any of them. Her telegram made it clear that she hadn’t known either – so why had Frances kept it from them all?

  ‘She wouldn’t!’ Daniel exclaimed into the mouthpiece, as Emily told him what Tara Manners had said about Clay. ‘Frances was bitter over what he did to Margaret and the bankruptcy. She blamed Clay for taking all the best land – and me for not giving her the choice to sell her share of the farm. She wouldn’t confide in Clay if she didn’t tell us . . .’

  ‘Then how did he know? I’m surprised she even had him and Dorothy to stay,’ Emily replied from her end. ‘I can’t understand why she would tell him something like that and not me.’ There was a little break in her voice as she said, ‘I wish I’d known, Dan. I’ve been wrapped up in things here but I would have gone down if I’d known – and I would have brought her back to Vanbrough.’

  ‘Perhaps that is what she didn’t want – us making a fuss over her,’ Daniel suggested. ‘She used to write to Alice all the time, but I think there has only been one letter since Christmas.’

  ‘I rang her several times but she was always out – or that’s what I was told. I’m wondering if I was deliberately kept from speaking to her . . .’

  ‘Who would do that – unless Frances deliberately cut herself off from all of us?’

  ‘I’m thinking Clay,’ Emily said. ‘He had g
one to see the undertakers without even consulting us. He did ring me last evening . . .’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said that it was my fault if I didn’t know my sister was ill – and that Frances had asked him to take care of everything.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I am going down there tomorrow and the funeral is on Monday. Will you come?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m not sure about Alice. I’ll see what she says.’

  ‘Connor and Sarah are here. Connor says he won’t come, because he hadn’t seen Frances for ages. Besides, Sarah has had enough trauma for the moment and she may have to go home for her mother’s funeral. I suppose Frances and Connor were never close.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him. Shall I come to Vanbrough, Emily? We could go down to Cornwall together.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps that would be best,’ Emily agreed. ‘You really should have a phone put in, Dan. I wanted to talk to you last night.’

  ‘Yes, I shall when we move into the village,’ he said. ‘I’ll see if I can afford it sooner.’

  ‘I’ll see you soon, then?’

  ‘If I’m coming on my own, I’ll be there by this evening. If Alice wants to come, it will probably be tomorrow sometime.’

  ‘I should like to see Alice, but I really do need to see you, Dan. I’ve been crying all night . . .’

  ‘I knew this would upset you,’ Daniel said. ‘You were closer to Frances than any of us. I feel dreadful. She loaned me some money when we were down there and apart from a quick call at Christmas I hadn’t been in touch.’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself too much,’ Emily said with a little sob in her voice.

  ‘I don’t. Neither of us imagined anything like this would happen.’

  ‘But we should have done,’ Emily said. ‘Clay is right. It is my fault if I didn’t know my sister was ill.’