Winners and Losers (6 page)

‘Is it well made – a quality thing?' Sarah nodded. ‘Then I'll give you the money to buy it and perhaps there will also be a little surprise on the day . . .'

‘You spoil me, Daddy.'

‘That is what fathers are for,' he said. ‘You know I love you, Sarah. I always have. Whatever might happen in the future, that will never change . . .'

‘Is something the matter?' Sarah asked, feeling a chill at the nape of her neck.

‘No, of course not,' he replied. ‘I just wanted you to know. I can't wait for those fish and chips. I'm starving!'

Sarah smiled, but she was thoughtful. She had begun to wonder lately what was causing the blinding headaches her mother was having more and more frequently. It was odd but they always seemed to happen when her father came back from one of his business trips.

‘You've made a really good start; it even smells better,' Emily said as she looked around the bedrooms in the dower house. Connor and his friends had taken down partitions of wood and plaster, broken up old toilets and basins and thrown them into a cart to be taken off to a tip somewhere. They had even made good some of the holes in the walls. ‘I feel awful, because you've spent the whole of your holiday working – and I haven't even paid you.'

‘You gave my mates something for their trouble and that is all that matters. You should get at least three estimates for the restoration work, Emily. If they are all too expensive, I'll do a bit of decorating next time I come.'

‘You have already done more than I could ask or expect,' Emily said. ‘It depends on those pictures I told you about. The gallery has agreed to sell them, though they say nothing is worth more than a hundred or two.'

‘If I were you, I would put them in an auction. You might do a lot better that way – perhaps twice as much.'

‘Do you think so?' Emily looked thoughtful. ‘Well, I did think a couple of them ought to be more valuable. Perhaps I shall sell those at auction, but they may go for nothing – like the farm sale.'

‘That was a bankruptcy sale. Dan had no control – but you have. Put a reserve of one thousand pounds on each and see what happens.'

‘That is a lot of money!'

‘If they don't sell, you can let the gallery have them at another time. You can't lose either way.'

‘I suppose not . . .' Emily laughed. ‘You're a bright lad, aren't you? Why do you waste your time on the farm?'

‘Because Dan needs me. It won't be for ever. As soon as he has paid his debt I'm off. He told me he should be clear in another few months.'

‘I wish I could help more. I have some of the money Vane left me . . .'

‘You need to keep something in reserve. I'm in no real hurry. I'm not sure what I want to do yet.'

‘You could go into building – or decorating,' Emily suggested. ‘You're good with your hands, and you could run a business. You are clever enough, Con. You're not like Henry.'

‘Poor devil,' Connor said. ‘It was too much worry for him, Emily. He should never have had to carry all that through the war. Clay should have helped him.'

‘Don't talk to me about Clay. The last time I saw him we had a row. He treats poor Dorothy like dirt. I do not know why she puts up with it. I wouldn't stay if I were her.'

‘Dan should have let Margaret report him to the police. He would have had the money for his garage then – and Clay deserved it after what he did.'

‘It would have upset Frances. I shouldn't have liked the scandal either, but Frances had to live in the village – and she worried about what her mother-in-law thought.'

‘Much good that did her. Sam Danby tried to rape her and then had her shut up in a mental home. If it hadn't been for you, she might still have been there.'

‘Dan had too much on his plate to think about Frances, but I am sure he would have got round to it in time.'

‘I'm not certain he would.' Connor frowned. ‘He gave Sam a bloody nose when he found out, though. If Sam hadn't killed himself, I'm not sure what might have happened.'

Emily nodded but didn't answer. The official line was that Sam Danby had taken his own life while in an unstable state of mind, but Emily had always suspected that his wife might know more than she had let anyone guess.

‘Frances came out of it with a lot of money. Not that it has made her happy, as far as I can see. She works so hard at that hotel of hers. I keep inviting her to stay but she never comes.'

‘I suppose she feels the way you do about this house.'

‘I'm not sure she does. I don't think she is happy, Connor. Not truly happy.'

‘Are you happy?' Connor asked.

‘Yes. Yes, I am. I have my problems, but I wouldn't change my life if I could.'

‘What will you do about the dower house? I suppose you could sell . . .'

‘No, I shall have it done up and let it if I can,' Emily said. ‘I shall see what the pictures bring – but there is a house in the village I might sell when it comes empty. The tenant is getting rather elderly; I dare say it will be empty in a couple of years or so. It is a good house and should fetch a few thousand pounds.'

‘Let me know how you get on. I'll come again when I can, but that may not be until nearly Christmas. We shall have the harvest soon and then the potatoes. We only have one field down to barley so that won't take long, but I usually take piecework once we've got Dan's crops out of the ground. It's the only way I can earn a bit more money.'

‘Well, have fun,' Emily said. ‘Don't work all the time.'

‘I shan't do that, believe me. I belong to a club – it's jive and jazz, and the lads wear those thick crêpe soles and long jackets with narrow trousers.'

‘Are they the ones they call Teddy Boys?' Emily raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I've seen photos in the newspapers. I didn't know it had caught on where you live. You don't wear clothes like that?' Her eyes went over him. He was wearing jeans, a shirt and leather slip-on shoes.

‘I would if I had the money.' Connor grinned. ‘The fashion is catching on fast. I listen to jazz when I can, but I have to be careful because the kids are asleep by the time I get in. I'm saving for a portable radio I can take to work with me. I've seen something about them being produced abroad and they should soon be available here. We have a band at the club most weeks. We can't afford the top guys, but it is fun. Sometimes I sing with the groups.'

‘I had forgotten that you can sing,' Emily said. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. ‘It doesn't seem five minutes since you arrived. You've been working so hard that I have hardly seen you.'

‘It was interesting. Maybe I'll go into the building business for myself one day.'

‘If you want to make a change, come here,' Emily said. ‘I could use some help on the estate. I don't mean land work; there are various projects I may think about if I can get a little money together.'

‘I'll think about it when the time comes, but I can't let Dan down,' Connor said. ‘I had better get on the train now. The guard is closing the doors.'

‘Off you go.' Emily stood back to wave him off. ‘Write to me, Connor.'

‘Of course – when I get time.'

Emily sighed. Connor would send a card for her birthday and at Christmas, but he was unlikely to write unless something was wrong at home.

She stood waving until the train steamed out of the station, then turned and walked back to her car. She would miss him even though he hadn't been around all that much. Emily missed the other members of her family, but she doubted that either Dan or Frances would visit her, which meant that she had to find the time to visit them.

It really ought to be Frances. She hadn't heard from her sister for almost a month, which was unusual; Frances normally wrote regularly. Emily would have to find the time to visit her, even if only for a few days.

‘I am sorry, Mrs Danby – but you made the second booking yourself,' Tara Manners said. ‘I know I wrote Mrs and Mrs Saunders in the forward booking register.'

‘It was my fault,' Frances agreed and nodded to her receptionist. ‘I am not blaming you. I didn't consult the forward bookings when I took Mr and Mrs Jones' booking. I'm afraid it means we shall have to give Mr Saunders an upgrade to the penthouse suite – at the same rate as his usual room, of course.'

‘You will lose fifty pounds, Mrs Danby.'

‘Yes, I know – but it is my fault. I was careless and it is all I can do. Will you explain to them when they arrive, please?'

‘You won't tell them yourself? I imagine they will be delighted to get an upgrade for free.'

‘Yes, I dare say.' Frances smiled oddly. ‘I have an appointment this afternoon. I don't think I shall be back by the time they arrive.'

‘Yes, well, I can explain,' Tara said. ‘Are you going somewhere nice?'

Frances glanced at herself in the wall mirror. She was dressed in a plain navy suit with a cream silk blouse and navy court shoes. Her soft hair was dressed back in a pleat. She thought she looked older than her years but preferred to dress severely. Looking attractive encouraged men to flirt and that was the last thing she needed or wanted. She had learned not to trust anyone – except perhaps Emily.

Frances sighed inwardly. She didn't see her sister often enough. Emily was always asking her to visit, but Frances wasn't sure why she didn't take more time off. Her staff were perfectly capable of running the hotel, perhaps more so than she was herself these days. She had been feeling so tired recently and she wasn't sure why. Yes, she worked long hours, but the work was not hard labour. She was still a young woman, but sometimes she felt years older – and she looked it. Especially when she'd had one of her bad nights.

She picked up her bag, a smart navy leather two-strap that matched her shoes. Both bag and shoes were expensive. Frances could afford the best, but she didn't find much pleasure in shopping these days. She supposed that she was still bitter over what Sam Danby had done to her – and the way Marcus had let her down.

She had thought herself the luckiest woman in the world when she'd married. Her husband's father, Sam, was one of the richest men in the district, and she and Marcus seemed to have a glittering future, but it had all gone wrong when her husband came home from the war. Marcus had changed. He drank a lot and quarrelled with his father. When he died in a car accident Frances had believed it was because he was drunk, but when she discovered what had been haunting Marcus she had begun to understand why he had simply given up: he had survived the war only to discover that most of his father's money came from prostitution.

Sam was a bully and he'd tried to force Marcus to work for him. Marcus refused, but then his drinking had got so much worse. Frances had come to blame Sam for her husband's death, and to hate him. She knew that she had made him turn against her by blackmailing him over his secret, but he had done such awful things to her.

Frances could never forgive and she couldn't forget either. Sometimes there was such a terrible darkness inside her. She had wild rages that she tried desperately hard to hide from everyone around her. She had found that the best way to cope was simply to shut herself away until she was feeling better. Emily expected her to put the past behind her and get on with her life. Frances had tried, but she didn't have her sister's resilience. She brooded on the past too much.

Frances couldn't help envying Emily her life. It was the reason she refused to visit, even though she missed Emily. If Emily came here, it was all right, but Vanbrough was such a wonderful place and she envied her sister's feeling of peace, of belonging. Emily had been loved. Vane had loved her and so had Robert's father. She might have suffered an unhappy marriage but she had got over it quickly, because she was in love with someone else.

Frances thought she had loved Marcus when she married him, but now she wasn't sure – she wasn't certain she knew what love was about. She knew about loneliness – that aching, empty feeling that had set in after her son died in hospital and everyone thought she had neglected him. She would never have done that . . . although she
had
been drinking too much because she was grieving for her husband.

Emily had believed in her. Dan had apologized after he realized what was going on, but he had thought she was at fault in the beginning. Perhaps he still did. He hadn't brought his family to visit for ages and she knew he had been to Emily's once or twice.

She looked at her receptionist, realizing that she hadn't replied. ‘Nowhere special,' she said. ‘It is a business matter.'

Frances wondered why she'd lied as she left the hotel and got into the taxi, giving the driver instructions. She leaned back against the seat, trying to keep calm and not worry. There might not be any need to worry, because she didn't know if there was anything really wrong with her yet. It was just that she hated hospitals. She had ever since little Charlie had died and the nurse had looked at her as if she were a murderer.

She had been desperate when Dan drove her to the hospital. She had never ceased to regret that she hadn't taken her son to the doctor sooner, but she'd thought it was just a chill – just as she'd put off seeing a doctor when she started to feel unwell herself.

She couldn't really be ill. She wasn't even thirty-seven yet – wouldn't be for ages. It was stupid to feel so nervous of these wretched tests . . .

Daniel finished loading the milk churns and watched as the lorry trundled off down the road that led back to Stretton. The trouble with living miles down a drove was that he had to start milking half an hour earlier in order to get the milk to the pick-up point on time. As he climbed back into the seat of his tractor, Daniel was wondering what it was all about, the struggle to survive and keep his head above water.