`Nobody had. I asked the girls and their husbands, and the people Tom used to work with, but they were no wiser than me. It was only a few weeks ago, when I got round to going through the last few of Tom`s papers, that I found the photo and realised Eleanor`s name had been Franks, and this Daniel must be related to her.`
`And she`s got no idea either, why your husband left him so much money?`
Sylvia pressed her hands against her face to help herself keep control. `I suppose it was wrong of me to jump to conclusions, but I felt absolutely certain he must`ve had an affair with her. She insists they didn`t, and that Daniel isn`t Tom`s son, but – God forgive me – I`m not sure I believe her. Is it awful of me to assume Tom was unfaithful, when he`s got no chance to defend himself?`
Raymond took her hand in an unexpected gesture of comfort. `You`ve got nothing to reproach yourself with, Sylvia. I think most people would`ve reacted exactly the way you did. It`s nearly beyond belief that any man would leave a small fortune to somebody he`s never met and knows nothing about, unless he had an extremely good reason.`
Sylvia lost the battle to keep calm. `How can there possibly be a good reason why he should`ve disinherited me, like he did?`
`Do you think it possibly mightn`t have been intentional? When you claimed on his Life Assurance policy, did you remember it would be void in case of suicide?`
`At the time, no. I`ve seen it on insurance-policies before, but you never think of it applying to anybody you know.`
`Most likely Tom didn`t think of it either. He must`ve been so taken-up with his own feelings, he forgot they wouldn`t pay-out on someone who`d killed himself.`
That was exactly the scenario Delia had suggested. `I see what you mean. He thought the money from the insurance-policy provided well enough for me, so what he`d saved for his retirement was his own to do whatever he liked with.` Suppressed anger boiled up anew. `That`s still no reason for handing it all over to strangers. What about his daughters and their children? Were they entitled to nothing?
About to speak again, Raymond closed his mouth, spreading his hands in apology. `Look, I don`t think we should talk about this any more. It`s not really something I should be prying into, and I can see I`m just upsetting you. Maybe it`s best left alone.`
Aware of his discomfiture, she forced a smile. `My fault, Ray. I`ve made it your business by burdening you with it all, and I really would value an unbiased opinion. What were you going to say?`
`Just that . . . he might`ve thought whatever the policy provided for you would go to them eventually, in your will.
The uncomfortable reminder of her own mortality brought a flicker of irritation. `Surely he would realise that in the meantime, I`d have had to use most of that to get a place to live.`
`But that would be theirs eventually, as well. They`d be able to sell it and . . . God!` Raymond exclaimed, breaking off in mid-sentence with an embarrassed snigger, `This`s a bit of a morbid conversation, isn`t it?`
`Yes, it is. I`m sorry. And I can see why you might be right, even if I don`t agree with the way Tom went about things. Thanks for letting me talk, anyway. It`s what I needed. I feel so mixed-up. One minute I`m absolutely positive he left me penniless on purpose. The next, I feel just as certain he didn`t. It keeps going round and round in my head till I think I`m going mad.`
They sat in silence for a moment, and she was touched to notice that he had not let go of her hand, even though her immediate need for comfort had passed - how kind he is, and how well he seems to understand. Possibly that was the result of the divorce he had gone through.
During the pause he must have been thinking, for he came up with another suggestion. `Do you think he might`ve loved Eleanor even if she didn`t love him? If she wouldn`t let him provide for her, it might account for him being so generous to her son.`
`I never thought of that.` If true, it would explain much, but did not fit with Eleanor`s insistence that he had never stopped loving Sylvia.
Next morning, Sylvia phoned her solicitor`s office to give Mr. Holmes the address and new name of the former Eleanor Franks. `If you get in touch with her, she`ll be able to tell you how to get Daniel`s money to him.`
`I can only say Well-Done, Mrs. Brandon. I honestly never thought you`d manage to find her.` The admiration in his voice raised her spirits - You see, Tom, I can do things on my own.
`He sounds like a really nice bloke,` Jenny said when Sylvia mentioned Raymond Hood. `Do you fancy him?`
`Oh, no!` Sylvia blushed for no reason in particular. `It`s not like that. He`s just a chap who helped me when I was burgled, and we`re only friends – nothing more. It`ll be years before I look for another romance – if ever.`
Jenny giggled provocatively. `Methinks the lady doth protest too much!`
`No, I dothn`t!` Sylvia snapped. `I just don`t want any misunderstandings about it. I wish I hadn`t told you now.`
Jenny gave her a playful push on the arm. `Keep your hair on! I didn`t mean anything by it. But I sort-of get the feeling he fancies you, and you could do a lot worse, by the sound of him.`
`I probably could, but for God`s sake, don`t mention this to anybody. I told the girls about him scaring the burglars away, but they don`t know I`ve been out with him, and I`d hate them to hear it second-hand.`
Did I make too much of an innocent remark, Sylvia wondered on the way home -- He is a nice bloke -- If ever I do fall for anybody again, it would probably be someone like Ray, -- but not yet. It`s too soon.
Despite the support of her family, that first Christmas without Tom was ghastly. Even while she ate dinner at Patty`s house, watched the children opening their presents, and enthused over their new toys, the day was not complete. Pulling crackers after dinner, laughing at the feeble jokes inside them, trying to guess Edgar`s improbably-staged charades, the emptiness remained - Tom, nothing`s the same without you. She had always loved Christmas - the thought that it might for ever hereafter bring sadness as well as joy was depressing.
The buffet she held at her flat two days later was not a great success either. Already surfeited with Christmas fare, the children did not want to eat the dainties she had prepared for them. Embarrassed, Patty and Edgar insisted they must have something. As a result, a glass of orange juice spilled down the sofa, and Cathy was violently sick – more stains for the carpet, Sylvia thought as she wiped it up and insisted no apologies were needed.
Edgar dismissed his noisy brood to play outside in the yard, but rain forced them indoors again. They made a complete nuisance of themselves by running around bumping into things, and Victor cut himself with the bread-knife while prowling around the kitchen-area where he should not have been. Much as Sylvia loved her grandchildren, it was a relief when her visitors went home at seven-o`clock, pleading the necessity of putting the twins to bed. She suspected they were as glad as she was that the day was over -- That was a disaster -- I`ve got to have somewhere better than this before next Christmas.
For the rest of the evening she watched television, but most of the programmes did not suit her sombre mood. The sight of the set itself reminded her of Raymond Hood -- he had sent a beautiful card with a picture of a seasonable fireside-scene, wishing her all the best for Christmas and hoping to see her soon. He was spending the holiday with his son and daughter-in-law. Sylvia wondered whether their baby would like the present she had chosen. Had Raymond told his family about her? Or was he following her own example, and saying nothing to anyone yet?
With the first delivery of mail after Christmas, a letter arrived from Eleanor Harrison: "I thought you should know Danny`s money has been paid into his bank account now. He says Thank-You for taking the trouble to trace him, and if possible he would like to meet you when he comes back from France."
At once, Sylvia`s heart leapt -- If I meet him, I`ll be able to see if he looks like Tom. Guilt supervened immediately – If I really trusted Tom, I wouldn`t need reassuring.
Even when Tom was alive, New Year`s Eve had never been exactly festive. They avoid
ed going to their Local because he did not enjoy the noisy fancy-dress party there, and could never be persuaded to try anywhere else. Sylvia normally cooked a special meal late in the evening, and they dawdled over the courses until it was time to take-out the ashes from the fire, and put on a log to burn the witches out of the chimney. To fulfil the rest of the centuries-old custom, she placed outside the door a bag containing an item of food and drink, some money, and a piece of coal, for the First-Foot to bring in, to guarantee prosperity all year round. Tom was always First-Foot, going outside at five-to-twelve, taking a turn round the museum forecourt, then returning as soon as the horns and sirens of the boats on the River Tyne began their noisy greeting to the New Year. The ritual grew stale over the years, but neither Tom nor Sylvia could work up enough initiative to change it.
Patty and Edgar invited her to go out with them but, after careful consideration, she declined the kindly-meant offer, afraid of spoiling their enjoyment. The coming of New Year invariably found her looking back as well as forward, and memories of Tom`s death were too recent to dwell on.
How would she fill the hours until midnight? She could have cooked a celebratory meal, preserving links with her former life, but did not feel like it. Would she even bother staying up till twelve-o`clock anyway? It was purely force of habit, and the New Year was unlikely to be any better than the old. The time was eight-thirty – if her mood had not lifted by ten-o`clock, she would go to bed.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of gentle knocking on the door. Who on earth could have come calling at this time, she wondered. To her surprise, Raymond Hood stood outside and she let him in quickly, noting that he seemed dressed for a night-out. `This`s a nice surprise. I thought everybody else but me would be out painting the town by now.`
`Leaving you all on your own, like Cinderella? No way! I am your Fairy Godfather, and you shall go to the Ball!` he announced, laughing at her astonishment. `Put your glad-rags on. We`re going out celebrating – a meal and dancing.`
The suggestion sounded thrilling. `Where to?`
`I`m taking you to a night-club.`
`The Miracasa?` she enquired, and he shuddered.
`In your worst nightmares! A proper one, this time.`
`It`s a lovely thought, Ray, but we`ll never get in – everywhere`ll be booked-solid.`
`No problem. The manager of "Cushie Butterfield`s" is a friend of mine, and he gave me two special passes, so we can see the Old Year out in style.`
She had heard of the club, and its opulence, but also the eye-watering admission-price. `It`s a lovely thought, but I can`t afford to patronise a place like that.`
`I`m not asking you to afford it. The passes will get us in free. The rest of the evening`s my treat, and I won`t take no for an answer.`
Longing to accept, she panicked instead. `Ray, I can`t. I`m not ready. My hair`s a mess . . .`
`Your hair is absolutely fine,` he insisted, turning her around towards the wardrobe. `And there`s still plenty of time for you to get ready. You deserve a night-out, and I mean to see you get it. So put on your best party-frock, and a splash of the old Evening in Paris, and we`ll be off.`
`Evening in Paris! On your bike!` She laughed at the memory of the cheapskate-perfume she and all her friends had last worn as teenagers. Tonight she felt almost like that exhilarated girl again, going out on an unexpected date with a new boyfriend. Flushed and excited, she grabbed the most expensive dress in her wardrobe, and ran into the shower-room to wash and change. The hairstyle was not perfect, but it would have to do. The club probably had dim lighting, and nobody would notice her in the crowd anyway.
"Cushie Butterfield`s" was as fabulous as rumour described it – glass walls in a clear blue, illuminated with hundreds of moving stars. From behind a glass ceiling, pools of rich golden light circulated intermittently over the dancers and diners. Raymond`s entry-passes entitled them to a candlelit table for two by a huge window that overlooked the River Tyne. Touched by moonbeams, the lights of Newcastle reflected in the slowly-rippling water. On the opposite bank, glittering street-lamps and tower-blocks lit up the sky like strings of beads threaded on necklaces of night. Sylvia had never thought of Gateshead as romantic-looking, but tonight the effect was magical.
`Like it here?` Raymond asked, raising his glass to toast her.
Reciprocating the gesture, she smiled gratefully. `It`s fabulous. Thanks for bringing me, Ray.` In the background, a ripple of applause greeted the combo playing dance-music, and the pianist announced a request: `Maureen – Harry says, Love You Always, and hope the New Year brings you all your heart`s desire.`
Raymond smiled back. `Thank you for coming. I was terrified you`d say No.`
`I was in two minds, but I`m glad I didn`t turn you down. Tonight would`ve been awful, if you hadn`t called. New Year always makes me feel depressed.`
`Not this one, I hope?` Pausing to allow the waiter to serve soup, he seemed unable to take his eyes off her. `You look fabulous in that dress.`
The fawn-and-green silk-georgette, worn only once before, had been an extravagance never regretted. `Well, you said my best party-frock. I bought this for Delia`s wedding, and I`ve never been anywhere posh enough to wear it since.`
The meal was as perfect as their surroundings. Afterwards they danced to the music of the combo, singing along with the other revellers. Raymond excused himself briefly, and handed a slip of paper to the pianist. When he returned, she asked, `Were you trying to get a request played, or something?`
`I`ve got one.` But he would not tell her what. `You`ll see, later.`
She had to wait until around half-past-eleven before the announcement came: `A request from Ray, for Sylvia. He says, Thank You for spending this perfect evening with me, and here`s hoping it`s the first of many many more.` The tune he had chosen turned out to be a lovely arrangement of "Unforgettable" and Sylvia felt embarrassed but pleased, like a schoolgirl living through her first romance -- this is crazy -- I`m not fifteen any more, I`m a grandmother in my mid-fifties - How can I possibly be feeling like this at my age?
As the clock of St. Nicholas` Cathedral boomed out its midnight chimes via the radio, he kissed her for the first time. `Happy New Year, Sylvia. May it be the best ever.` She returned the greeting, giddy with emotion such as she had not felt in years -- What`s happening? -- Am I falling in love with Ray? – I mustn`t, it`s too soon. Then they were caught up in the sweep of revellers, everybody kissing everybody within reaching-distance, and the moment was gone. He probably only kissed me because it`s New Year, she decided -- I mustn`t read too much into it. Yet there had also been the musical-request – he had not arranged that because everybody else was doing so.
`It`s been a wonderful evening,` he said as he drove her home. `I wish we could spend more time together. Would you like that, as well?`
`Yes. I think I would.` Still touched by the magical mixture of music, wine and darkness, she felt completely at ease in his company. `But we can`t always go wining-and-dining. We`ll be bankrupt in a month. Why don`t you come over to the flat, and I`ll cook something for us? What about Saturday?` He accepted at once, as if afraid she might change her mind, though she had no intention of doing so - There`s no harm in being friends with someone - Tom wouldn`t expect me to be a hermit, she told herself. `Are you coming up for a coffee?`
`Better not, or I`ll probably never go away again.` Smiling at her startled expression, he explained, `I`ll probably fall asleep on your settee.`
`Then I`ll chuck coats over you till the morning.`
He laughed briefly, then grew serious again. `Tempting as the offer is, I`m going to have to take a rain-check. But just one thing, before you go in.` As she turned her face towards him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her gently on the mouth. It did not occur to her to pull away. This was what she had wanted ever since their lips had met during the midnight celebrations. It wasn`t just because we were at the party -- he really does want to kiss me because I`m Me. The deep thrill running t
hrough her was not to be denied, and she returned the kiss passionately. For moments on end they clung to each other until, unwillingly, he released her.
`I`ve been longing to do that for ages,` he said softly, lips close to her ear, `and tonight I thought you might want it too. I hope I haven`t read the signals wrong.`
`No, you haven`t. It felt right for me, as well.`
Holding her to him, he stroked her hair gently. `This`s the strangest feeling. It`s like being a young lad again, on my first date. I don`t know what to do.`
She drew a deep breath, throwing caution to the winds. `You could stay, if you like.` Was it wise to offer herself so blatantly? What on earth would her mother have thought? But her mother`s day was gone. In the modern world, such things were possible for anyone.
Raymond closed his eyes. `God, how I wish I could, but I can`t.`
`What`s the matter?` Sylvia demanded, her heart sinking. `Is it me that`s been reading the signals wrong?`
His lips brushed her ear-lobe once more. `No, you haven`t. It`s what I want, more than anything in the world, but it wouldn`t be fair. You`re still working through your feelings about Tom, aren`t you?` When she did not reply, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. `You can be honest with me. I do understand, you know. Georgina`s not dead, but when she left me, I felt like a fish-out-of-water for months.`
Sylvia leaned against his shoulder, unable to look him in the eyes. `I feel so confused. Part of me wants you to stay, but . . .`
His finger traced the side of her cheek. `I could so easily say Yes, but I`ve had longer on my own. You need more time. Even though I want you like hell, I`m willing to wait, because you`re worth waiting for.`
She smiled up at him, grateful for his sensitivity. `Do you think I`m a terrible fool? If I was a giddy young lass, I probably wouldn`t think twice about . . .` Unable to face saying Hopping-into-bed-with-you, she struggled for more acceptable words. `Giving myself to you. It`s just that . . . `
A Long Road Through The Night Page 18
