Promise Made

by Linda Sole

  ‘Want a lift?’

  Frances looked to her left and saw that Sam Danby had drawn up to the kerb in his car. It was a large, shiny Daimler and very expensive. She hesitated, because the last thing she wanted was to be alone with him, and yet she couldn’t let Muriel down or she might lose her.

  ‘Yes, all right, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ve just missed the bus.’

  ‘I saw it leaving,’ Sam said and smiled at her. ‘Hop in then, Frannie, and I’ll soon have you home.’

  Frances did as he suggested. She pulled her coat over her knees, sitting primly, her hands on her lap. Sam glanced sideways at her and smiled but made no comment.

  ‘Your hair looks very nice,’ he said as the car nosed out into the road. There wasn’t a great deal of traffic in Market Street, just a lorry and one other car. The only time the street was really busy was on a Thursday when everyone came in from the villages for the market.

  ‘I like the way they do it here,’ Frances said, putting a hand to her bouncy style. ‘I’m not sure that Marcus does. He liked it when it was longer, but it is easier to manage like this.’

  ‘Marcus doesn’t know what he wants,’ Sam said with a sneer. ‘Your hair is modern and pretty. It suits you – and you should do what you want, not what he says.’ He took his eyes off the road for a moment. ‘Does he give you enough money, Frannie? For yourself, I mean. You should have good clothes and nice jewellery. A woman like you deserves the best money can buy.’

  ‘Marcus hasn’t got that much to spare for the moment,’ Frances said. ‘He helped Mary, as I told you – but don’t think we’re short, because we’re not.’ They didn’t have a lot to spare but they were managing for the moment.

  ‘Marcus is a fool,’ his father said again, sounding annoyed. ‘If he came to see me we might be able to sort this out, but he is as stubborn as his mother.’

  ‘I think you can be pretty stubborn too, Sam – when you want.’

  ‘You’re right about that, Frannie.’ Sam took his left hand from the steering wheel, laying it on her knee for a moment. ‘When I want something I just keep after it until it comes my way.’

  Frances removed his hand from her knee. ‘I am grateful for the lift, Sam, but let’s get something clear. I am Marcus’s wife and I don’t play fast and loose.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Sam said and obligingly returned his hand to the wheel. ‘That’s a pity because I like you. As a matter of fact, I fancy you something rotten. I know you don’t fancy me, Frannie, but just remember that I could do a lot for you. I wouldn’t ask much, just to visit once a week. You could be nice to me and I would be nice to you – a mutual arrangement. Marcus doesn’t need to know.’

  ‘What would Rosalind think if she knew what you had just said to me?’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise her in the least,’ Sam said. ‘She gave up caring what I do a long time ago. We live our own lives. I don’t interfere with her and she leaves me to do as I please.’

  ‘Oh …’ So much for Emily’s idea that she could speak to his wife. ‘I don’t think I could agree to anything like that, Sam. I love Marcus and I wouldn’t want to let him down.’

  ‘Well, I have to respect that for the moment,’ Sam said. ‘I’m not going to force anything on you, Frannie – I like you too much. It is a pity you weren’t more amenable to my suggestion, but there’s always another day. You might change your mind in the future. My offer will still stand when you realize that Marcus is never going to amount to much.’

  ‘That’s a horrid thing to say about your own son!’

  ‘But it is true,’ Sam replied, glancing at her face. ‘Don’t poker up, Frannie. You know it in your heart even if you aren’t ready to admit it yet. Marcus is weak. I don’t know where he gets it from, certainly not me. Rosalind’s father was a bit of a drip, thought himself above trade and all that stuff, so maybe that’s who he takes after. You’re an ambitious girl, Frannie. You want more than the life Marcus is offering you. When you decide you’ve had enough of being a housewife come to me. I could show you a different sort of life, believe me.’

  ‘You are saying things you shouldn’t,’ Frances warned him. ‘I’m going to let it go because I don’t want more trouble in the family – but I shall never be what you want, Sam.’

  ‘No?’ His brows rose and there was a hateful smile on his lips. ‘If Marcus keeps drinking the way he does, you will change your mind soon enough. I’m a patient man, Frannie. I can wait a bit longer.’

  Frances bit her lip. How did Sam Danby know that Marcus drank too much? She had imagined that he was cutting back, that he was almost normal again, his nightmares behind him. How had Sam got hold of the idea that his son was drinking too much?

  Frances looked at the clock on the mantle. It was almost eight o’clock and she had been expecting Marcus home for dinner more than an hour ago. She had had to put his meal in the oven to keep warm and she knew it would have spoiled by now. She had tried to eat her own, but most of it had gone out in the bin, because she couldn’t get the food down. She was worried sick, because Sam Danby’s words kept echoing in her mind and she was afraid that Marcus had been drinking more than she’d imagined.

  Hearing something in the hall, she looked expectantly towards the parlour door. Surely Marcus would come in and tell her that his car had broken down on the way home or that he had been kept late at work? She heard something fall and then the sound of footsteps going upstairs. She went out into the hallway, seeing that an umbrella stand had been knocked over, the walking sticks and other paraphernalia lying on the floor. Frances bent to pick them up, her heart beating faster than normal. Was Marcus drunk? Surely not? He had promised he wouldn’t do it again! She hesitated and then went upstairs. A light was on in the bathroom, and as she paused outside the door she heard a retching noise – he was being sick. Perhaps he was ill!

  She opened the door and looked in, seeing Marcus on his knees in front of the toilet, his head bent over it as he vomited.

  ‘Are you ill?’ she asked, hesitating to approach him.

  ‘Get out of here,’ he muttered. ‘Leave me alone or you will be sorry.’

  Frances backed out of the room. Her throat was tight and she wanted to weep. Marcus had been drinking, his sickness self imposed. He had broken his word to her!

  Sam must have known that Marcus was drinking too much. He had hidden it from Frances when he was in the house, but other people had known. She felt angry and humiliated, imagining what people must be saying and thinking. As if it wasn’t enough losing the farm! Did Marcus really have to get himself into this state?

  She went back downstairs and picked up a copy of Vogue magazine that she had purchased in Ely. The illustrations of beautiful girls in expensive clothes made her feel even more resentful than she already was. It was ages since she’d bought herself anything good. Marcus wasn’t mean, she knew that, but he simply didn’t have the money for clothes like this – and as for jewellery …

  Frances shook her head. She wasn’t going to let herself think about things like that, because that would mean that Sam had won. He had tried to taunt her, to make her realize what was lacking from her life – from the life she had imagined would be hers when she married Marcus. He came from a wealthy family and she’d had every right to expect that she would have all the luxuries she could desire.

  Frances stared at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t that she was greedy or dissatisfied with what she had now. She would be perfectly content if only Marcus didn’t drink so much … but he was changing, becoming a man she didn’t know or like very much.

  ‘Oh, Sam,’ Rosalind Danby said as her husband came in that evening, ‘I wondered if you could advise me. There are rats at the bottom of the garden again. They are after the rabbit food, I suppose.’

  ‘We should get rid of them.’ Sam said. ‘The war is over, Rosalind. We don’t need them for food – and I’ve never been fond of rabbit anyway.’

  ‘I keep them for Charlie’s sake,’ Rosalind sa
id. ‘He likes to pet them – not that he comes here very often … but he likes to stroke them when he does.’

  ‘Keep them then,’ Sam said, because if he cared about anyone’s wishes it was his grandson’s. ‘You can leave the rat poison to me, Rosalind. You wouldn’t understand what you were buying. A lot of the stuff they sell you at the ironmonger’s doesn’t work. I know where to get something stronger.’

  ‘Oh … well, if you think so, Sam,’ Rosalind said. ‘I am sure you know best. Can I get you some cocoa – or would you prefer a drink?’

  ‘I’ll get my own,’ Sam said. ‘Don’t fuss, woman. You know I can’t stand it. Just get your own and let me be.’

  Rosalind turned her head. She had put up with his rudeness, his coarse manners and his careless dismissal of her as a person for years. Sometimes she felt as if she couldn’t bear it anymore, but she didn’t know what else she could do. She was trapped here with Sam, and as far as she could see there was no way out.

  ‘I’m sorry, Fran,’ Marcus said when he came down the next morning. It was half past nine and he was dressed in a pair of grey slacks and an informal shirt. ‘I was a bit the worse for wear last night.’

  ‘You had been drinking,’ she said giving him a reproachful look. ‘You promised you wouldn’t, Marcus.’

  ‘I have tried to cut back,’ he said looking at her sheepishly. ‘But something happened – I was sacked yesterday. Not doing the job properly so they said, but that’s a lie – there was another reason. Jackson couldn’t look me in the eye when he told me. I swear he had no reason to complain of my work. He sacked me for some other reason.’

  Frances looked at him doubtfully. She hated his drinking and what it did to him, but he was still her husband – and she was still on his side.

  ‘Sam gave me a lift home from Ely yesterday after I missed the bus. You don’t think …’

  ‘That is exactly what I think,’ Marcus said wrathfully. ‘He probably gave Jackson a huge order for farm machinery on the condition that he sacked me. He wants me to go crawling back to him, Fran – but I would rather starve.’

  ‘Oh, Marcus,’ Frances said. She went to him, putting her head against his shoulder. She wasn’t sure that getting Marcus to work for him was the whole of Sam Danby’s plan. He might want to humiliate him, to make her see that he wasn’t the successful man his father was – because he wanted her. ‘I’m so sorry, love. So very sorry.’

  Marcus moved away from her, a look of belated pride in his eyes. ‘No need for you to be sorry, Fran. It’s not your fault. I know I shouldn’t have let it get to me that way – but I couldn’t help it. I thought I was doing a good job and then …’ He shook his head. ‘I needed a drink and one led to another … but it won’t happen again. I give you my word.’

  ‘What will you do now?’ Frances said. ‘That was a good job and there aren’t so many about these days.’ She didn’t like the idea of Marcus having to take a menial job in a factory.

  ‘Mother said she would give me some money,’ Marcus said. ‘I could start a small business myself – perhaps in haulage. It won’t be like Father’s firm, because I’ll only have one lorry for a start and I’ll do long-haul journeys. I think there is more money in that over time. You’ll see, I shall soon make a decent living for us, and then I can employ others – and I don’t need his dirty money to start me off. Mother’s money came from her family. It doesn’t have the taint of his filthy hands on it.’

  Marcus sounded so bitter that Frances wondered what was behind his hatred of Sam Danby. Before the war they hadn’t always got on, but they had rubbed along most of the time. Just what was it that Marcus had discovered about that property in London that had made him despise his father so much?

  Vane saw Emily coming across the lawn towards the house. Her hair was swinging loose about her shoulders, soft and slightly waving. He was glad that she had not cut it in the modern fashion, because he liked it this way. She had such an air about her these days, something she was totally unaware of, he was sure. It made people turn their heads to watch her, and it brought her respect.

  He knew he was right to choose her. She was the chatelaine that Vanbrough needed, the one who would bring life to this house he loved so dearly. He had chaffed against the bonds when he was younger, but as he grew older and discovered the disappointments of life, it was the house that had sustained him – and it would sustain her when he was gone.

  Vane rubbed at his chest, feeling the pain that sometimes spread as far as his arm. It lived with him almost constantly these days and he knew that it couldn’t be much longer. He would have to leave her soon – his Emily. It was a terrible burden he meant to lay on her shoulders but there was no one else.

  Would she accept it? He knew that he could not force her, but he believed that she felt it too – this love that had tortured him and delighted him for so many years. Vanbrough would live on through Emily and her son. He could go to his grave happy in the knowledge that she would not betray his trust.

  Smiling, he went out to meet her. There was not much time left and he could not bear to waste a second …

  Five

  ‘I wish you had come down for harvest,’ Frances said when she telephoned her sister one cold and wet day in September. ‘Alice had a party at hers and it was really nice. The house is big and old – and I wouldn’t fancy living out in the fen the way they do – but it was hot that day. She had a table out in the back yard and it was lovely. The children had a treasure hunt and lots of little presents. Alice cooked a huge amount of food and made fruit squash, and we all had a wonderful time – but I missed you. We don’t see enough of you, Emily.’

  ‘I couldn’t get away,’ Emily said, feeling a little regretful that she had missed such a nice family get together. ‘Alice asked me to come and stay, of course, but I was needed here. We always have a summer party for the patients and their relatives, and we had a good time here too. Nurse Rose organized a treasure hunt, which was great fun.’

  ‘You devote all your time to that place,’ Frances said and Emily detected a note of resentment in her voice. ‘I wanted to talk to you. I know we can talk on the telephone, but it isn’t the same.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it is,’ Emily said. She heard something behind her and glanced over her shoulder. ‘Look, I have to go, Frances. Someone needs me. I will ring you this evening – and I’ll try to get down again soon.’

  ‘You’re always saying that,’ Frances said. ‘You haven’t been near since Henry died. Anyone would think he was the only brother you had!’ She put the receiver down with a little bang.

  Emily looked at the telephone for a moment. Frances was right in a way; she had neglected her family since Henry’s death. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, but they’d had one crisis after another here and … Oh, she wasn’t sure why she was reluctant to leave Vanbrough at the moment. Amelia hadn’t made any threats recently, but she was becoming more and more possessive of Robert.

  Emily sighed and got up. She knew why she had been summoned. One of their patients had taken a turn for the worse in the night. He was only twenty-four and they had had hopes of sending him home soon. She had a feeling that he would not last more than a few hours – and his family lived too far away to get here in time. Emily would sit with him until the last.

  Frances looked uneasily at the clock. She seemed to be doing this more and more often of late, her life dominated by the slow moving hands that ticked away the seconds of her life. A harsh laugh escaped her, for such fanciful thoughts were foreign to her and brought on by her feeling of impending doom.

  Marcus was late home again. She couldn’t complain, because as far as she knew he was keeping his promise not to drink. He had even given up having a glass of wine with his dinner, because he said it always made him want something more – something stronger. These past few months he had been coming home later and later, but it was because he had to drive long distances. Frances wasn’t happy about him being away so much, but he seemed h
appier now that he was his own boss.

  She had learned not to cook anything that wouldn’t keep when he was out on one of his runs. She usually made pies that would warm up quickly or did something on toast when he came in, though often he would say that he had eaten at a cafe somewhere.

  She heard the front door bell ring and sighed with relief. That must be Marcus at last! He had probably forgotten his key. She went through the hall and opened the door, but the smile died on her lips as she saw that it was a policeman standing there. Her heart jerked wildly and her knees felt as if they had suddenly turned to jelly.

  ‘Is it my husband?’ she asked fearfully. ‘Has there been an accident?’

  ‘Are you Mrs Marcus Danby?’ the officer asked and frowned as she nodded, too frightened to speak. ‘I’m not here about your husband, madam. I understand that Connor Searles is your brother?’

  ‘Yes, he is …’ Frances felt the fear draining away to be replaced by anger. ‘What has he done? I hope he isn’t in trouble, officer?’

  ‘Yes, well, I am afraid he may well be,’ the policeman told her. ‘We’ve got him and another lad in the cells at Ely. It seems that they took one of the punts out of the boatyard without paying for the hire …’

  ‘A lot of the lads do that if they can get away with it,’ Frances said, for she knew that Henry and Cley had done it when they were youths, and plenty of other kids did it too. ‘Surely you didn’t have to lock my brother up for that? It was only a lark.’

  ‘A bit more than that, madam. The boat was damaged and the owner says he wants to press charges. He has had enough of the kids thinking they can just take his property when they feel like it.’

  ‘Damaged … how badly?’

  ‘I think it was substantial,’ the officer said. ‘Anyway, would you like to come and see Connor this evening? We prefer that a parent or relative should be there before he is charged.’