Winners and Losers (12 page)

‘You can afford a thousand pounds.'

‘I can't raise that much,' Daniel lied. ‘The most I can do tonight is two hundred and fifty.'

‘That isn't enough,' Maura said. ‘I want at least eight hundred.'

‘I'll give you two hundred and fifty.'

‘If I don't get what I want, your Alice will get one of these in the post.' Maura passed him three photographs.

Daniel took them reluctantly. He looked at the pictures of a young boy. His throat tightened because they could have been of the boy he had tucked into bed earlier that evening. No matter how much he disliked it, Maura was telling him the truth – he had fathered a child with her.

‘It's bloody ridiculous,' he said bitterly and thrust the photographs back at her. ‘One night – one sodding night!'

‘You don't have to swear! You know he is yours, don't you?'

‘He looks just like my son Danny.'

‘He
is
your son. He is entitled to something from you.'

Daniel reached into the glove compartment and took out a package. ‘There's five hundred pounds here.'

‘I want a thousand.'

‘Maybe in a few months. I don't have that kind of cash lying around. You can go to Alice if you like, but if you do, you won't get another penny.'

‘I'll give you three months,' Maura snarled and snatched the money, thrusting it into her bag. ‘I'll count it later and I want another five hundred or you will be sorry – now you can take me back to the bus stop.'

Daniel held back a sharp retort. He felt like pushing her out and telling her to walk, but it was dark and deep dykes bordered the road. He had brought her here and the least he could do was to take her back – but he wouldn't be paying her another penny if he could help it.

‘Don't come near my house or you will be the one wishing you'd never been born,' he warned as he started the car. ‘You wouldn't want your boy to be an orphan . . .'

‘You wouldn't dare,' Maura said but a little nerve flicked in her throat. She had pushed him as far as she dared tonight. She would wait for a while before making more demands. Five hundred pounds was a lot of money. More than enough to get her started in the little hairdressing business she fancied. She could put a deposit of three hundred pounds down and the rest of her windfall would keep her going until she had the shop up and running – and perhaps she could get some more out of him in a few months' time.

It was almost half past one when Connor switched the engine off and crept in at the kitchen door. He didn't bother switching the light on because the moon was full and he could see enough to find his way up to his room. Carrying his shoes in his hand, he took the stairs carefully, avoiding the ones that creaked and breathing a sigh of relief as he reached his own room and shut the door behind him.

At last he could put the light on. Connor glanced at his image in the old wooden-framed mirror on the wash stand, wondering why he didn't look any different. He
felt
different. He felt like crowing at the top of his voice, because the feeling of euphoria hadn't yet left him. He couldn't believe that he had been such a success. He'd thought they might scrape by as a band, but he hadn't known all the words of every song and a couple of times he'd had to improvise. He wasn't sure what made him do it, but each time he couldn't remember words, he looked at a girl in the crowd and said, ‘Rock me, baby' or ‘Sweet rocking baby . . . rocking mama.' For some reason, it had worked like a charm and by the end of the evening the girls were screaming every time he stepped up to the front of the stage. At the end they had crowded to the stage and asked him to sign their autograph books.

He had felt as if he were dreaming. When they left the gig and Terry gave him not ten but twenty pounds, he'd just stared at the money.

‘Why the extra?' he asked.

‘Because you earned it,' Terry said. ‘We've all got the same, but the manager booked us again next month – providing you were the lead singer.'

Connor pocketed the money. He didn't resent the fact that Terry had tried to get him to work for less, because he would have been satisfied with the ten pounds he'd been promised, but he would make sure he got his share in future.

‘I don't see why not,' he said. ‘I'll join the band on one condition: Phil is in too. I don't want to take his place. We can share the lead spots. I'll do the raunchy stuff that suits me and he can do the ballads.'

‘We'll hear what he has to say when he gets back,' Terry said. ‘I'm glad you're up for it. You can come to regular practice every week and then you will know the words. You did pretty good for a first time – and everyone forgets the words sometimes.'

‘I'm going to buy a record player at the weekend,' Connor said. ‘Should I get a guitar too?'

‘I'll meet you in Ely at two on Saturday,' Terry said. ‘I'll come with you to Miller's and see what they've got. You want something that looks good even if you're only going to play a few chords.'

‘I'm going to teach myself,' Connor said. ‘If you show me a couple of times, I'll pick up enough for what I need.'

‘What will your brother say to you taking time off to practise?'

He won't care as long as I'm around when he needs me. ‘I'll have to practise out in the barn, though, because I should keep the kids awake,' Connor told him and grinned. ‘I don't think Alice would appreciate that if she'd just got them to sleep.'

‘That is the trouble with living at home,' Terry agreed. ‘We have to practise in the garage, but one day I'm going to have my own pad – once we start earning real money. I'd love a recording studio of my own.'

‘That would cost thousands!'

‘Yeah, I know. It's just a dream at the moment, but one day I'll get there. Gigs like this don't pay much, but some of them pay as much as a thousand pounds a night.'

‘Twenty pounds is as much as I earn in six weeks as a labourer, though I can earn extra piece-work when the potato lifting starts.'

‘Peanuts compared to what is out there,' Terry replied. ‘I've got a feeling we're on our way, Connor. The girls loved you tonight. If you work on your act, you could be big. The big stars in America earn hundreds of thousands of dollars from their records – maybe even millions!'

‘A million dollars – what does that look like?'

‘Unbelievable,' Terry said. ‘I promise you it is out there – all we have to do is reach high enough.'

Connor laughed, because he hadn't truly believed his new friend. Terry was excited now, but one swallow didn't make a summer – next time the girls might be harder to impress.

Thinking about girls reminded Connor that he was meeting Sarah the next evening. She would be waiting outside the Rex cinema for him in Ely and the thought of her made him feel hot inside. One of Sarah's smiles was worth all that screaming nonsense at the gig.

Daniel had heard his brother come in. He frowned as he peered at the bedside clock in the darkness; the hands were luminous and he could just make out the hour. Connor was late. He would need some calling in the morning if he was going to be up in time for the milking.

Daniel cursed under his breath, because he knew he wouldn't get off to sleep again for ages. If this was going to be a regular thing . . . For a moment he felt irritated with Connor, but then he realized that he wasn't angry with his brother for staying out late. Connor was entitled to make something of himself if he could. What was really bothering Daniel was the fact that he'd given that money to Maura. He had given in to her blackmail – and he had an uncomfortable feeling that it wouldn't stop there. Once you let a blackmailer get their hooks into you, they didn't let go.

Daniel turned over on his side, his mind going over his problem. He hadn't had much choice, because he didn't want Alice to be hurt. It had only happened once and it was a long time ago. Maybe he was a fool. He should have just told her and got it over with. The extra five hundred pounds would have helped him through the next few months. He'd taken on some work for neighbouring farmers, but he knew it wouldn't pay much. He couldn't charge the full rates. If he did, he wouldn't have any customers. He would only be able to charge properly once he had a garage and was seen as a business. At the moment he was just Good Old Dan, who did favours for mates and charged a couple of quid for parts.

He pulled a wry face in the darkness. Was he a loser? Was that why nothing ever went the way he planned? Poor old Henry had been a loser, but Clay was a winner. He'd grabbed the best of the land and got away with it, because Henry had wanted him out of the family business after their father died. Yet Daniel didn't want to be like his brother. He couldn't make himself do people down and the thought of what Clay had done to their stepmother turned him sick to his stomach.

If you had to be ruthless to be a winner, then maybe he was a loser. He sighed again, willing himself to sleep. He had a lot of work waiting and he needed to be fresh in the morning.

Damn Maura! She wouldn't get another penny out of him, whatever she did . . .

Alice lay listening to the sounds of Daniel's steady breathing. He seemed to have gone off at last. She supposed it was Connor coming in late that had woken him. She had felt Daniel turning restlessly in the bed beside her, but she hadn't said anything, because she was too tired to get up and make tea.

Sally was teething and she'd had trouble getting her to settle. Alice loved all her children dearly, but there was no doubting that they took over your life, took everything you had and then demanded more. Sometimes she wished they hadn't had so many – at least not so close together. They ought to have stopped at three, but then she wouldn't have Sally, and she adored her baby.

No, she wouldn't want to part with any of them, Alice decided. Sally would be through the difficult stages soon and then she would have more time to herself. It wouldn't be so bad if they lived in the village. Living on a farm made so much extra work because the men tramped in mud every time they came for a cup of tea, and there were always people coming and going in the yard. Dan always invited them in for a cup of tea and Alice usually provided cake or biscuits she had made herself. People told her what a wonderful cook she was, but sometimes she seemed to do nothing but cook and clean.

Alice smothered the sigh that rose to her lips. It must be nice to live the way Emily did in that lovely big house of hers. She had people to clean and cook for her and her only son was at boarding school . . . Alice frowned as she wondered if Emily ever got lonely. She was always busy, of course – too busy too visit her family as much as she would like – but was that enough for her?

She must be mad thinking about things like that at this hour! In another three hours she would have to get up and start work again. Alice smiled and turned over, closing her eyes. She had enough problems of her own without thinking about Emily's.

She knew it was going to be a busy day, because Dan had told her to expect visitors.

Emily saw her guest sitting in the front garden. His easel was set with a large board and the quality paper he used for his watercolours. He had been working on the same painting for a few days now. As yet she hadn't seen it nor had she asked, because it seemed rude, but she was growing curious. She decided to walk down to him and remind him that they had some friends coming for dinner that evening.

Alan looked up as she approached and smiled. Emily's heart caught, because his smiles had seemed very intimate of late and she thought they were becoming good friends.

‘I thought I should remind you we have people coming this evening.'

‘I hadn't forgotten,' Alan said and drew his hand back, studying the picture. ‘I'm not sure whether this looks right. Tell me what you think, Emily. It is supposed to give an impression of the house from a distance rather than pick out every detail.'

Emily went to stand behind him. She caught her breath as she looked and saw something so beautiful that she felt tears in her eyes.

‘That is quite, quite lovely,' she said in hushed tones. ‘I had no idea you could paint so well, Alan.'

‘I've always dabbled a bit but never had the time to get serious about it, but I think I may now. I've decided that I enjoy doing nothing but pleasing myself, Emily. I believe I shall spend the rest of my life doing it – and I shall travel.'

Emily couldn't stop looking at the painting. It appealed to something inside her, and she knew that this was how she saw the house when she closed her eyes and thought about it – as if through a haze of sunlight that blended everything to a soft blur.

‘Those colours are so muted they just make you feel that you are looking through a veil and give the house a mystery that is intriguing. Vanbrough has been painted many times, but I like this better than all those formal landscapes Vane acquired.'

‘Then it will be my pleasure to give it to you when it is finished,' Alan said. He wiped his hands and began to gather his bits and pieces. ‘Would you carry my box, Emily? I don't want to smudge this and bits of it are still wet.'

‘Yes, of course. The weather has been so glorious for you, Alan. I am not sure how long it will last.'

‘Not much longer. I am sure I can feel a chill in the air. I shall leave when my picture is finished. I have plans to make, places to visit.'

‘So soon? I've got used to having you here – and I like it.'

‘I have loved every minute, dearest Emily, but I think I should make the most of what time I have left to me. If I am spared, I shall return for Christmas – if you will have me?'

‘You must know the answer,' Emily said. She gave him a companionable look as they walked to the house together. ‘I am going to miss you very much.'