Winners and Losers (32 page)

‘I told you he would never do something like that,' Alice said and looked pleased. ‘I should think there will be a wedding in the family soon. I am going to have a new dress from that posh shop in the High Street, Dan, and a big fancy hat as well.'

‘You can have whatever you want,' he told her and reached out to kiss her. ‘You deserve it, Alice.'

‘And so do you,' she said. ‘Come on, let's go to bed . . .'

‘How soon do you want to get married?' Mr Jenkins asked. He handed his daughter a glass of sherry and gave Connor a small whisky. ‘I shall sell this house, Sarah. I wouldn't want to live here again.'

‘I don't even want to stay here tonight,' Sarah said and drank her sherry straight down. ‘I'm going to a hotel for tonight and then I'll stay with Con's family until we get married.'

Her father nodded. ‘Will you go back into singing, Connor?'

‘I'm not sure.' Connor glanced at Sarah. ‘I am thinking of setting up a business of my own – restoring old houses. I might consider another record deal if the right one came along, but I shan't go back on the road. I've had enough and it isn't fair to Sarah.'

‘So when did you think of getting married?'

‘I think we should wait a few weeks,' Connor said. ‘Sarah and I will be together, but I want her to be happy on her wedding day – and she needs a little time.'

‘Well, let me know when you decide,' Mr Jenkins said. ‘I'm going to set up a bank account for you, Sarah. I'll put some money in for you so that you can pay your way until you get married – and I'll pay for your wedding, clothes and anything else you need.'

‘Thank you,' Sarah said. ‘Did . . . did they say when we . . .?'

‘The funeral?' Her father frowned and finished his drink. ‘I suppose a couple of weeks – they said something about a post-mortem and perhaps an inquest. Nothing for you to bother your head over, Sarah.'

‘I'm not a child, Dad. I know the police may want a statement from me.'

‘I didn't think you were a child, Sarah – that was your mother's idea.' He refilled his glass. ‘I don't know why she had to be so damned stupid!'

‘Daddy!'

‘I'm sorry if it upsets you, but your mother was a selfish woman, Sarah. I'm not going to pretend I care. She has made things unpleasant for everyone.'

‘I'm going upstairs to pack some things,' Sarah said, then jumped to her feet and ran out.

Her father sighed. ‘I shouldn't have said anything, but I can't pretend to something I don't feel. I've wanted a divorce for years. I only stayed for Sarah's sake.'

‘Sarah understands. It was a shock for her. She will be all right in a little while. I'm going to take her to meet my family in Stretton, and then we'll go to my sister. Sarah will feel better when she gets away from Ely.'

‘Yes, I expect so. Give me your sister's telephone number. I'll let you know when things are settled here.'

Connor took the pad he was offered and wrote the number down. He stood up and walked to the door. ‘I think I'll go up and see if Sarah needs a hand. We might as well take as much as we can. It will save coming back again.'

‘Anything she leaves I can send on.'

‘Right, thanks. I'll tell her.'

Connor went up the stairs. Sarah had a large suitcase on the bed, but she had only packed a few things.

‘There's so much – a whole lifetime . . .'

‘Your father will send on anything you leave behind, darling.'

‘Some of these things I've had since I was a little girl,' Sarah said, looking round the room. ‘Mum kept everything – all my dolls and books . . .'

‘Leave them for now. Your father can pack them into boxes. You might want to give them to our children one day.'

Sarah lifted her head. Her lashes were wet, but now she was smiling through the tears. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I'll just take some clothes and my make-up and jewellery. Dad can have the rest packed and send it on to me at your sister's.'

‘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

E
mily 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 children 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.'