`What are you going to do, Sylv?`
`I don`t know. I feel like rushing straight down-there and confronting her, but what if I find I`m confronting the wrong person? I think I`d better write first.`
Jenny agreed, `It`s an awful lot of train-fare, if she`s not the right one. What will you put in the letter?`
`I`ll need to think about that.`
Back at her flat, Sylvia drafted her letter to Eleanor Harrison - I need to say I want to meet her, but best not to mention the money yet, just in case - should I even put anything about Daniel? Eventually she decided against broaching either subject - I`ll ask if she ever worked in Newcastle, and not even say whereabouts - If she did, she`s nearly sure to mention the name of the place, then I`ll know for sure, before I tell her anything more.
On the morning when Eleanor`s reply arrived, Sylvia once more hesitated to open it. What if further disappointment was in store? But success might be worse – if this was from the former Eleanor Franks, it might contain truths too unpalatable to face. In the end Sylvia resorted to playing a childish game in order to deal with her fear -- I`ll count to Ten, then open it.
The letter was polite, although its writer seemed understandably puzzled: "At one time, I did live in Newcastle, and I worked at a museum there for several years. I understand you want us to meet, but as I don`t know you, I`m not sure what good it would do. After thinking it over, I am prepared to see you, but not on my own, and nowhere else but here. It would be most convenient if you could come next Wednesday afternoon. Please let me know by letter if you can make that time, when I hope you`ll tell me what all this is about."
Sylvia studied the missive again, pondering several curious points. Eleanor Harrison`s professed puzzlement did not sound promising, but mention of the museum sounded encouraging. If Sylvia`s request for a face-to-face conversation really rang no bells, why was Eleanor so afraid of their meeting alone? And why could she be seen only at her home address?
The only way to find out would be to keep the appointment, and Sylvia confirmed it by letter: "I need to see you because, if you worked at the museum, I feel sure you would have known my husband Tom Brandon who was there then. He died recently, which is why we have to talk." The reminder of who Tom was might be timely, since Eleanor`s letter said nothing to suggest that she remembered him.
Raymond Hood called at the flat to ask Sylvia out again, but the day he had in mind was Wednesday next, when she was due to see Eleanor Harrison. She would far rather have gone out with him than keep her appointment in London. But, tempted to grab at any excuse for putting off the visit, Sylvia knew that if she did not make the contact now, in all probability she would never do it at all.
`I`d love to go out with you again, Ray, but could we possibly make it Thursday instead? I have to be away all Wednesday – it`s to do with settling Tom`s estate.` The vaguely-worded excuse was near enough to the truth and, to her relief, he accepted it at face-value.
`Okay, Thursday it is, then. It`ll be better for you to get all that business seen-to first. You`ll never have peace of mind till it`s done.` The fact that he understood so well surprised her, but perhaps in that respect bereavement was not unlike divorce.
Throughout the train-journey to London, Sylvia went over and over the coming meeting with Eleanor, imagining and altering possible conversational gambits. Absorbed in her thoughts, she made only the most cursory answers to the chatter of a woman who sat down next to her. After a while, the woman seemed to realise that Sylvia did not want to talk, and moved to another seat as it fell vacant. She must think I`m a right-miserable-wretch, Sylvia thought, sorry for hurting the feelings of a complete stranger, but unable to respond to the well-intentioned companionship.
The low whining of the train`s diesel-engines blended hypnotically into her thought-pattern, cocooning her from her surroundings, until the first application of the brakes near Finsbury Park recalled her to the practicalities of the trip now nearing its end. She re-read Eleanor`s letter to memorise the address, rather than risk looking foolish while instructing the taxi-driver - Hang the expense! I will get a taxi, she decided. With little experience of using the Tube network, she would most likely get the wrong train - or catch the right service going in the wrong direction, and end-up further from her destination instead of nearer -- I might chance it on the way back, but if I get myself into a state, trying to find the place, I`ll never have the nerve to go through with seeing Eleanor.
The train brought her into King`s Cross station slightly ahead of time. Fortunately the queue at the taxi-rank was not too long. As the cab threaded its way through London, she gazed idly out of the window, wondering what Eleanor Harrison would be like, and how she might receive the guest who had more or less demanded to invade the privacy of her home.
Still planning the best form of words for their conversation, she was taken by surprise when the cab swung abruptly into a semi-circular driveway, and pulled up in front of an imposing red-brick building that was not a house at all. Eleanor Harrison had probably not done as well for herself as the opulent-sounding address suggested. Sylvia paid-off the cabbie, and stared at the noticeboard above the front door: "THE CHARTER HOUSE. Residential Care Home." She had not imagined Eleanor in such an establishment, until common-sense returned – she won`t be a patient – she`s most likely running the place, and finds it more convenient to see visitors here during business hours. That sounded much more like the Eleanor Franks who had once held down a responsible job at the museum.
She rang the bell on the front door, answered by a young woman in care-assistant`s uniform. `My name`s Mrs. Brandon. I`ve got an appointment with Mrs. Eleanor Harrison.`
The carer stood aside to allow her to enter. `Matron told us to expect you. Could you come this way, please?` Following, Sylvia found herself in a small pleasant office where a machine in the corner emitted a tempting aroma of coffee. Behind the desk, a woman in nursing-uniform rose to her feet in greeting -- I never knew Eleanor had qualified as a nurse, Sylvia thought.
`Good afternoon, Mrs. Brandon. I`m Shirley Bonner, Matron of the Home. I`ll take you to see Mrs. Harrison in a few moments, but I need to have a word with you first.`
`Yes, of course.` Eleanor must be one of the staff, then. Perhaps Matron wished to point out that the interview should be kept short, to avoid conflicting with Eleanor`s other duties.
`Because your letter came as a complete surprise to Mrs. Harrison, she mentioned it to the care-staff at once. She`s agreed to see you, but asked for certain safeguards, so I`ll be sitting in with you during the interview.` Taking note of Sylvia`s astonished expression, she continued, `You must understand that Mrs. Harrison`s in a very poor state of health. Since she has no idea who you are or why you`ve come, we have to ensure there`s no risk of her being upset or intimidated.`
Sylvia bristled at the suggestion. `I`m not here to intimidate anybody. What the devil do you think I`m going to do to her?`
`It`s a precaution that the Home feels obliged to take, in the interests of resident-safety.`
Sylvia`s next surprise was to find Eleanor in a wheelchair, `Come in, Mrs. Brandon. I`m sorry I had to insist on you coming here but, as you see, it`s not easy for me to get anywhere else. I`m sorry I didn`t realise at first who you must be, but my memory`s not what it was, ever since my accident. Your letter sounded so desperate, I thought I`d better meet you. I`ll send for some tea, then we can talk.`
The Matron sat down in one of the chairs at the other side of the room, where she could keep watch and, if necessary, intervene. They take good care of their patients, Sylvia thought. For a few moments the little group sipped tea in silence, until curiosity finally got the better of Eleanor. `That letter you wrote? What was it that`s so urgent?`
Sylvia braced herself. `Have you by any chance got a son called Daniel Henry Franks?`
`Yes, I do. Why?`
`I need to find him because my husband`s left him some money.`
`Left him money? We are talking about Tom Brandon fro
m the museum, aren`t we? What on earth has he left anything to Danny for?` Sylvia noted that Eleanor had not asked how large the bequest was, and her astonishment sounded genuine. Perhaps she and Tom had not been in cahoots after all.
`I was hoping you might be able to answer that, seeing it`s nearly ninety-thousand pounds.`
`WHAT! You`re joking!` Eleanor`s thunderstruck expression could not be counterfeit, unless she was the most consummate of actresses.
`I wish!` Sylvia retorted. `But it`s all down in black-and-white in his will.`
After a stunned silence, Eleanor repeated her question. `Why-ever did Tom leave him all that? They`ve never set eyes on one-another, that I know of.`
`That`s what I don`t understand either, and I hoped you might be able to tell me.` The moment for confrontation had come. `There`s only one reason I can think of -- and tell me the truth, because I have to know – is Daniel Tom`s son? Were you and Tom having an affair?`
`What!` Eleanor lunged forward in the chair, one hand raised as if to strike at Sylvia. `You disgusting...! How dare you! Of course he`s not Tom`s son! I was a married woman when Danny was born.`
`Yes and No. You were separated from your husband before the birth, unless my memory`s greatly at fault.`
The Matron stood up abruptly, placing herself between Sylvia and Eleanor. `I can`t allow you to agitate Mrs. Harrison like this. She`s not well enough to cope with it.`
A quick apology was called for. `I`m sorry, but you must understand, I`m not coping very well either. Until the will was read, I never even knew Daniel existed, and you must admit a legacy of that size to a complete stranger seems more-than-a-bit peculiar.`
`I suppose it does, and you`re quite right, I wasn`t still with Robert.` Eleanor lowered her hand and leaned back in the chair. `I`ll never forget how supportive Tom was, through it all. I don`t think I could`ve gone through with leaving Robert, if it hadn`t been for your husband. He was a good friend to me when I needed one. But that`s all there was to it – just friendship, we didn`t have an affair. I never even knew Tom was dead, till I got your letters. You must be still in shock, or you wouldn`t have made such a suggestion.`
`I know you were married, all the time Tom gave you a shoulder to cry on.`
`And that`s all he did give me,` Eleanor retorted, still flushed, as if controlling anger. `We weren`t having an affair, and there`s no reason for you to think Danny is his child. What do you take me for? I was unhappy, yes, but not unhappy enough to go poaching other women`s husbands. I was still trying to patch up my own marriage in those days.`
`It doesn`t sound as though you succeeded.`
`No. We didn`t finally divorce until ten years ago, but I`d left Robert the minute I found out I was expecting. His jealousy and possessiveness had ruined our relationship. As I told him at the time, I couldn`t face watching him make our child`s life a misery as well. He blustered a bit at first, through his solicitor, and threatened to apply for access to the baby when it was born, but I think that was more likely hurt-pride than anything else.`
`Did he ever find you?` That was none of Sylvia`s business, but the story had begun to grip her imagination.
`He hung around outside Mum and Dad`s place for weeks, looking for me, till they had to get the Police to make him go away. Then he started phoning them incessantly, till they had a solicitor`s letter sent to him, saying not to bother them any more, or they`d get an injunction. He must`ve taken the hint, because we`ve heard nothing more of him from that day to this, and we`d just as soon it stays that way.`
One more thing Sylvia needed to mention. `Among Tom`s stuff, there was a teddy-bear.`
Eleanor looked astonished. `Surely he`s never kept that all these years?`
`Then it was Daniel`s.` Sylvia`s last hope of being wrong finally faded.
`It was meant to be, but I wouldn`t take it, in case my husband got curious about who sent it.`
The excuse appeared feeble. `If you weren`t living with Robert by then, couldn`t you just have lied about it?`
`Asking for trouble. He was insanely jealous and possessive. Because of that, he knew all the same folks I knew, and quizzed them upside-down about every little-bit thing I was doing, even after we parted. Everybody knew what he was like. When I left him, most folks said they couldn`t understand how I had managed to put up with him for as long as I did.` She shrugged briefly. `It must`ve been Love, I guess.`
Things were becoming clearer. `Is that why you shifted this-far down-South? To make sure you had got right-away from him?
`I got sick of living in fear of what he would do next. If I`d accepted the bear, and he had found out who sent it, and jumped to the same conclusion you`ve done, he could`ve made trouble for Tom, and that wouldn`t have been fair. Tom was an absolute brick. Talking things over with him helped me to see what the future would be like if I didn`t get away from Robert while I was still young enough to make a new life for myself and my baby.`
`Once you`d made your mind up, it`s a shame he didn`t think to give you the bear before you left Newcastle.`
`I didn`t see him again before I left. In fact I never told a living soul when I moved. Even Mam and Dad didn`t know where I was for over two years. I thought that if Robert came pestering them, they couldn`t tell what they didn`t know. I didn`t write to Tom till Danny was nearly six months old, but he had been such a good friend that I owed it to him to let him know we were all right.`
That squares with what Tom always said about her just dropping out of sight, Sylvia thought, apologising in secret to the husband she had so badly misjudged. By the time the baby was born, Eleanor had gone away nobody-knew-where -- Tom couldn`t very well bring the bear home, in case I found it and asked what it was for, so it`s lain in his desk-bottom all these years. Aloud she said, `Thanks for telling me all this, Mrs. Harrison. I know I shouldn`t have needed reassuring, but I`m grateful for it, all the same.`
Eleanor finished her drink and set down the empty cup. `If I`ve been able to put the record straight as far as Tom`s concerned, I`m glad. You never had anything to worry about. There wasn`t any affair. He was the perfect gentleman all the while he was helping me.`
One more question remained. `Is there any chance I could meet Daniel sometime?` It would be interesting to see the young man all the fuss had been about.
`Not at the moment, I`m afraid. He`s out of the country.`
`On holiday? Perhaps we could meet when he comes back?`
`It`s more than just a holiday. He`s working in France for a year, before taking up a place at Oxford.`
`Oxford!` Impressed, Sylvia could not resist embarking on another fishing-expedition. `He must have a good head on him. Who does he take after – you or Robert?`
`Well, not Tom anyway.` Eleanor had seen straight through the device, making Sylvia ashamed of having descended to using it. `He`s not due-back for another four months, but if you want to see him then, we could maybe arrange something.`
`Thanks. I`d really like that.` There might be some satisfaction in putting a face to the lad to whom so much of Tom`s money had gone.
As the train sped homeward through the darkness, Sylvia at last allowed her mind to dwell on thoughts of Tom. For the first time since his death, she was seeing again the calm fair-minded man he had been all through their years together. That image effaced the demon of duplicity she had constructed, restoring the Tom she had loved - I was probably happier than he was, all that time - he laid his dreams aside because I asked him to, and never once upcast it at me -- I was wrong to think he`d stopped loving me -- he loved me too much for his own good, and in the end the years of sacrifice killed him.
The enormity of that realisation stunned her into reflecting on the future without him. In particular, how far should she go in encouraging Raymond Hood? If Tom had really loved her, he would surely not expect her to spend the rest of her life alone. But was it fair to push him to the back of her mind quite so soon? The previous day – certain of his infidelity – she would have said Yes without hesitation, but th
e conversation with Eleanor put things into a new perspective. A faithful and loving husband deserved to be mourned for longer than a few months.
However it was also necessary to be fair to Raymond. They could not continue drifting along indefinitely as friends. Sooner or later, he was bound to want more than that from their relationship, and she was not sure she had anything more to offer. If Ray does say he wants us to move forward, what answer would I give him? -- am I doing the right thing by finding a new man to replace Tom who loved me so much?
FOURTEEN
In the cold light of early morning, doubts again crept in. If Tom really loved me, why couldn`t he leave a note saying why he killed himself?-- that`s surely not too much to ask. Had Eleanor`s explanation been too glib? No, Sylvia told herself as she walked to work – what would be the point of her lying about it now, when Tom`s dead and neither of us can have him? Reason suggested one powerful motive – fear for her son`s inheritance if Sylvia should decide to contest the will.
Throughout the day, her meeting with Eleanor preyed on her mind. When Raymond called for her that evening, he seemed to know instinctively that she was not herself. `Sylvia, whatever`s the matter? Is something wrong?` Receiving no answer, he moved round to her other side in time to catch a glimpse of wet drops sparkling on her lashes. `I don`t like to see you like this, Sylvia. Please tell me what`s happened. I`d like to help if I can.`
`I don`t think anybody can help.` But his gentle anxiety touched a chord in her. She needed to talk to someone and, on impulse, decided to confide in him.` You remember I told you I live here because since my husband died, I haven`t any money? That`s all true, but it`s not the whole story.`
As she recounted the events that had shaped her life since Tom`s death, Raymond listened in astonished silence. When at last it was clear she had no more to tell, he drew a deep breath before responding. `This Harland lot? And the man Franks? You had never heard of either of them?`
A Long Road Through The Night Page 17
