by Linda Sole
Daniel stared at her awkwardly. There was no sense in mouthing words of comfort that meant nothing when he agreed with what she was saying. If Marcus had cared for his family, he would have taken more care, left the drinking alone.
‘I expect he had his reasons. It can’t have been easy day after day, going up there to be shot at … never knowing if he was going to be alive by nightfall.’
‘The war has been over for months – and plenty of other men have bad memories. You don’t go drinking to forget.’
‘No, I don’t,’ Daniel agreed. ‘I have nightmares sometimes – but I don’t give into them. I try to forget, because I want to make things right for Alice.’
‘That’s what I mean.’ Frances looked angry and distressed. ‘If Marcus had loved me, he would have got through it somehow – the way you do.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t think it was just the war, but I’m not certain what the trouble was, because he never told me.’
‘You know I’m sorry, Fran …’
‘I’m glad you were here.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘You will do everything? I can’t face … I won’t look at him. I can’t!’
‘I’ve told you, I’ll see to things,’ Daniel said. ‘But I don’t like to leave you here alone. Shall I take you to Alice?’
Frances hesitated, and then shook her head. ‘No, thank you, not yet. Perhaps tonight – if I could stay with you until after …’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Thank you for being here, Dan – but I think I should like to be alone for a while.’
‘I’ll fetch you later,’ Daniel told her. ‘Get a few things together for you and Charlie – and I’ll call and tell Sam the news.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Frances said. ‘I don’t think I could bear that …’
Daniel approached her hesitantly. He kissed her cheek. She didn’t react, and he thought she was unnaturally calm. He would have preferred tears, but Frances was holding them inside – perhaps until she was alone.
Frances sat down after Daniel had left. She could hear her son playing in the garden with his dog, and she knew that in a few minutes she was going to have to fetch him in and give him something to eat. It was probably time to feed the dog too … but for the moment she couldn’t motivate herself to do anything.
Somewhere inside she was hurting so badly that she couldn’t bear it, but she was refusing to let go, refusing to allow the pain through. If she blocked it out, perhaps it would go away … perhaps she would wake up and find that this was all a terrible dream. Marcus couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t possible. She had dreaded that he would be shot down all through the war, but he had come back to her.
But the real Marcus had never come back. She had lost him months ago, Frances realized, feeling angry again. If he’d loved her and Charlie, he would have stopped drinking. He would have made a success of his life. She didn’t care so much about the money. He would have built up his own business slowly if only he had stopped drinking.
‘Damn you, Marcus,’ Frances said softly. It was easier to be angry with him for letting her down. Much easier than allowing the dreadful thought into her mind that she had driven Marcus to his death. If she hadn’t quarrelled with him, he might still be alive.
Sam saw the colour fade from his wife’s face as he told her the news that afternoon. Rosalind had been shopping in Ely when Daniel Searles came to the house, walking in with her parcels about ten minutes after he left. Her eyes looked strange, as if she couldn’t see properly, and he thought she was going to faint. Sam was feeling sick himself, but also angry – angry because Marcus had thrown everything he had offered him back in his face.
He’d been foolish enough to put some of the property into his name, never thinking about the consequences if Marcus discovered what was going on in those houses. Sam had never expected him to bother about where the money came from, but he had and he’d thrown a fit when he discovered the truth. Sam had thought he would calm down eventually and talk things through – but instead of that the fool had thrown his life away.
‘You’re lying …’ Rosalind’s voice was a thin screech. ‘You’re trying to hurt me. Marcus isn’t dead … he can’t be …’ Her face was working with emotion, her hands clenching at her sides. ‘Damn you, Sam! I hate you.’ She suddenly flew at him, her hands crooked like claws as she went for his face, hysterical in her grief. ‘It’s your fault. He discovered what you are and it destroyed him.’
‘Don’t be such a damned fool,’ Sam said, catching her wrists, holding her as she struggled against him. He was solidly built and she had no chance as he forced her back, shoving her so that she fell on to the sofa. She half lay there, staring at him, her eyes bleak now as the pain began to sink in. ‘He took after your family – no guts or backbone. If he’d been sensible we could have sorted things out. Besides, it was your own fault, Rosalind. You told him there was something odd going on and he poked his nose in where he had no right.’
‘It’s you and your filthy business,’ Rosalind muttered through her tears. Her nose was running, her cheeks mottled with red. Never pretty, she looked ugly and older than her years. ‘I hate you, Sam Danby – and one day I shall pay you back for what you’ve done.’
‘Don’t be stupid, woman,’ Sam growled. ‘I’ve kept you and that useless son of mine in luxury for years. If you hate me so much, why don’t you walk out of that door?’
Rosalind lifted her head. ‘It was my father’s money that gave you your start, Sam, and don’t you forget it. I daresay you would like to be rid of me, but I shan’t make it easy for you.’
‘Don’t be daft, woman,’ Sam said and turned his back on the sight of her. She made him want to hit out, irritated him with her moral tone and her belief that she was so superior. He walked out before he was tempted to use his fists on her. He couldn’t deny that her money had got him started, but he’d built up a few thousand pounds into a huge fortune.
But what for? The question hammered at his brain as he left the house. All his life he had schemed and worked, building up his empire to pass on to his son and grandchildren when he died. Now Marcus was dead and he had just the one grandson … Charlie.
A look of determination came over his face. His thick neck was red and a dark vein stood out at his temple. Charlie was all that mattered now – and Frances. His throat tightened at the thought of her. She was never very far from his thoughts these days. He wasn’t sure why, because she had made her feelings quite plain. She didn’t like him much, but he wanted her – and he mostly got what he wanted in the end.
He decided that he would go to see her, comfort her a bit. He wouldn’t try any of his usual games, because she would knock him back, and he would deserve it. No, he’d be the grieving father and offer to help her, build up her confidence. She was going to need him now, and he would be there for her. Now that Marcus had gone, she would turn to him. He would be patient. He could wait for what he wanted.
He smiled as he got into his car. Losing Marcus was a disappointment, but he still had Charlie and if he played his cards right, he would have Frances too.
Alice turned as the kitchen door opened. Frances walked in carrying Charlie in her arms, Daniel just behind her. One look at her face, at the suppressed pain in her eyes, made Alice’s heart bleed for her sister-in-law.
‘Dearest Fran,’ she said and went to her. She put her arms about her and Charlie, laying her head against Frances’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, love, so sorry.’
Frances made no response. The pain was in her eyes but she was putting on a brave face, holding it inside.
‘Thanks for having me, Alice,’ she said in a calm flat tone. ‘I couldn’t bear to stay there alone tonight. I’ll be all right in a few days …’
‘You can stop as long as you like,’ Alice said generously. ‘You know we are always pleased to have you.’
‘Yes, you’re both very good.’ Frances put Charlie down. He ran off to join Danny, who was playing with a kitten at the far end of the long kitchen. ‘Sam came to see me w
hile Dan was in Ely. He has told me I don’t need to worry about money. I think he was a bit annoyed that I had asked Dan to see to things for me, but he didn’t make a fuss. He was kind … generous …’
‘You sound surprised,’ Alice said. ‘I should think he is devastated. I would expect him to do everything he can for you. After all, Charlie is his only grandchild.’
‘Yes …’ Frances looked thoughtful. ‘He was much nicer than I expected. Sometimes …’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I telephoned Emily. She says she will come down for …’ Frances sat down at the kitchen table. Her hands were trembling. She gripped them in her lap. Her thoughts were disjointed, jumbled up in her head. ‘I’m sorry. I feel a bit odd.’
‘Well, of course you do,’ Alice said. She glanced at Charlie, who seemed quite content playing with his cousin and the kitten. ‘Does he know?’
‘I’ve told him that Daddy isn’t coming home,’ Frances said in that calm flat tone. ‘But I don’t think he understood. He was more upset because Sam took his dog away with him, but I didn’t think I should bring it here – and Sam said he would bring it back as soon as I decided to come home.’
‘We’ve got plenty of animals here to amuse him,’ Alice said, smiling as she saw the children turn their attention to the train set Daniel had set up for his son. ‘Charlie will be all right with us, Frances, but he is bound to start asking questions one of these days.’
‘Yes, I expect so,’ Frances said but there was no spark in her. She was devoid of any emotion, though Alice guessed that it was simmering inside her, kept down by the barrier she had built to deaden the pain.
‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’ Alice asked. It was difficult to know what to say to Frances. She appeared so much in control, but Alice sensed that underneath there was a well of pent-up emotion that was going to boil over sooner or later.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Frances said. Her eyes travelled around the huge, old-fashioned kitchen with its pine dressers and blackleaded cooking range. Alice had bunches of herbs hanging from a wooden bar overhead, and her copper pans were burnished brightly on their rack. Danny’s toys were scattered all over the floor at one end, and a dog had just come in from the yard, its paws making muddy prints on the floor. It settled in front of the fire, sure of its place. ‘This is very nice. Where did you get all that blue-and-white china?’
‘I collect it,’ Alice said. ‘Mum gave me that big meat plate and the tureens, but I bought some of it from the fair on Midsummer Common in Cambridge. I went in on the train once and they were auctioning it off a few bits at a time. It was fun, because they toss bits in the air and keep lowering the price until someone bids for it. I bought a basketful for a pound.’
‘Oh …’ Frances seemed shocked and Alice knew she must be thinking of her bone china dinner service at home. ‘You were lucky.’
‘Well, it isn’t china,’ Alice said. ‘It’s only earthenware, Fran, but I like it.’
‘It’s nice,’ Frances said. ‘It looks comfortable … homely.’
‘Thank you.’ Alice beamed because she took that as a compliment. She was well aware that her kitchen wasn’t neat and ordered like Frances’s, but it was comfortable. She kept her front room pristine, but they only used that at Christmas and sometimes on a Sunday if her parents came to dinner. ‘I’m always so busy, and Dan is in and out all day, Connor too. It would be difficult to keep us all tidy.’
‘It is a home,’ Frances said. ‘Our kitchen used to be like this once – but I had it all changed.’
‘You’re more modern than us,’ Alice said. ‘Very smart. If I lived in the village I wouldn’t mind something like you have – but here the animals and the boots bring in mud all the time.’
‘Doesn’t that drive you mad?’
‘No, I don’t bother,’ Alice said and laughed. ‘It all gets scrubbed off first thing in the morning – but then they start bringing it in again.’
‘I think I should hate that,’ Frances said. ‘But Marcus never brought in any mud …’ She choked back a sob, her eyes wet with tears all of a sudden. ‘I can’t believe …’ The tears were flowing now, running down her cheeks and into her mouth. ‘Alice … I don’t want Charlie to see …’
‘I’ll take you upstairs to your room,’ Alice said. ‘You can have a lie down before supper, love.’ She led the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She opened the door of a large bedroom, which was furnished with a double bed covered by a white candlewick bedspread, a washstand, wardrobe and dressing table, and two mahogany chests of drawers that didn’t match. ‘You have a good cry, Fran. I’ll leave you to rest – unless you want to talk?’
‘No … I would rather be alone for a few minutes. I’ll come down soon. I am sorry …’ Frances gave a muffled sob. ‘I’ve been shutting it out, trying not to cry …’
‘You’ll feel better if you let it out,’ Alice said. ‘If you want me – or Dan – we’re just downstairs.’
‘Yes, I know, thanks.’
Alice closed the bedroom door, standing just outside for a moment. Frances was crying now, sobbing as if her heart were breaking – which it probably was, Alice thought. Frances had been very much in love when she married Marcus. It hadn’t just been the money, though some people thought it, but Alice wasn’t one of them.
She went back downstairs to the warmth and comfort of her kitchen. Daniel was making the tea. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised.
‘She’s having a cry,’ Alice said. ‘She will be all right in a while, Dan. We’ll have a cup of tea, but I think we should leave her alone for a few minutes.’
Alone in the bedroom that wasn’t hers, Frances sobbed, her body shaking with the force of her emotion. She had held it back all day, but Alice’s sympathy had overset her. Finding herself a guest of her sister-in-law had suddenly brought it home to her. Marcus was dead and her life was never going to be the same again.
‘Surely you won’t take Robert to a funeral?’ Amelia asked. ‘Everyone will be under a shadow – and a small child will just be in the way.’
‘Robert could never be in the way in Alice’s home,’ Emily said, holding her temper on a thin string. Anyone would think she had to ask permission to take her son away from Vanbrough. ‘My family will expect to see him. Besides, I want him with me, Amelia. He is my son. I think you tend to forget that sometimes.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Emily,’ Amelia said looking at her huffily. ‘Of course I know Robert is your son. I am well aware who his mother is – and his father …’
‘Just what are you trying to say?’ Emily glared at her. ‘If this is a threat, Amelia, you might as well say it at once.’
‘Of course it isn’t a threat,’ Amelia said, a wary expression in her eyes. ‘I was merely suggesting that it might be better if you left Robert here with us while you visit your family.’
‘I am going to take him with me,’ Emily said. ‘I do not wish to quarrel with you, Amelia – but Robert is mine and I shall do what I think best for my son. Excuse me, I have something to do before I leave.’
She walked from the room. There were a few things she needed to sort out at the home before she went down to Cambridgeshire. She was feeling angry and slightly uneasy. There had been an underlying threat in Amelia’s words. Perhaps it was her own fault for allowing the situation to drag on. It might be better if she confessed the truth to Vane – but not now. She couldn’t cope with that at the moment. All she really had time to think about was Frances.
It was so awful, Marcus dead in a car accident! Daniel had told her it was pretty horrific. Marcus had been badly burned and died on the way to hospital. Emily wasn’t sure if her sister knew all the facts about the accident, because Daniel had told her that the police seemed to think it had been quite deliberate. Not an accident at all, but suicide. She hoped that wasn’t the case, because it would probably all come out at the inquest, and that would be very upsetting for Frances.
Frances had always been the lucky one. When s
he was young, it had seemed that she always got whatever she wanted of life – but now it had all gone wrong for her. Emily wasn’t sure how her sister would cope. Frances was inclined to be nervy, short-tempered and easily upset. She had relied on Marcus to look after most things, at least as far as business and money was concerned. Marcus must have left her some money, and perhaps a life insurance – though if a verdict of suicide was given she probably wouldn’t get a penny of that …
Oh, why did things have to be so horrible? Emily had been thinking about Terry ever since she heard the news. The pain of his death had been so bad that she hadn’t been able to face it for a long time. She could imagine what her sister was feeling now, and her heart ached for Frances. She couldn’t wait to leave here, because she wanted to see her, to hold her and comfort her.
Seven
Frances let herself into the house. She hadn’t taken anything suitable for the funeral when she left with Daniel the previous night. She felt a chill strike her as she walked in, because the kitchen range was out and she had never let that go out before. A shiver ran through her, because alone in this house, she felt misery building inside her. All she wanted to do was to get out of here as fast as she could!
She left the door unlocked as she went quickly through the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. She had packed her case and was about to leave when she heard something … a door banging.
Frances went out to the landing and looked down. As she did so the kitchen door opened and someone came out into the hall. Her heart caught with fright and then she saw that it was Sam.
‘You gave me a fright,’ she said as she came down the stairs. ‘I was just getting a few things together …’
‘I saw the door open and thought I had better investigate,’ Sam said. ‘Someone might have broken in. What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with Daniel?’
‘I am staying with him. I told you, I need a few things … clothes for the funeral …’ Frances stared at him, the tears starting to form in her eyes. The grief and guilt was choking her and she couldn’t hold it in. ‘Why did he have to do it? The police say it was deliberate. Why?’