Winners and Losers (33 page)

‘Thank you, it was good of you.'

Emily replaced the receiver. She was too stunned and too distressed to take in what was happening. Frances was dead. She must have been ill for some time but she hadn't told her family – except that Tara Manners thought she might have told Clay.'

‘Oh, Frances . . .' Emily said brokenly. ‘Why – why didn't you tell me?' Why hadn't Frances wanted her to know? Why hadn't she come to her so that they could be together? ‘I could have comforted you . . .'

Could anything have comforted Frances? She had known that she was going to die within a certain time – and she must have known it wasn't going to be pleasant or easy.

She didn't deserve this! Emily was filled with anger. Why should it happen to Frances? Frances had always been so lucky when she was young. She had married a man who seemed to have everything. Emily had envied her at one time, but then it had all gone wrong for Frances.

‘Hadn't she suffered enough?' Emily cried. ‘Don't you have any pity?'

She wasn't sure who she was talking to, because sometimes it seemed that God didn't exist. How could there be a higher being when things like this happened? They said God was kind and gentle and good, but Emily didn't believe it. How could a loving God let this happen?

She felt the tears streaming down her face. She hadn't cried this way for years. She had felt sad when Alan died, but not this tearing, hurtful grief, this sense of bitter frustration.

‘Oh, Frances,' she wept. ‘Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me?'

Frances
would
have told her if she'd gone down to see her. But Emily had been too wrapped up in her own life. She felt a slashing regret that she hadn't made time to see Frances somehow. She would never forgive herself and she would never stop wishing that she had gone down when Tara Manners had told her that Frances had fainted that day.

Of course, it wasn't a simple faint. It was a blackout, but Frances had kept it to herself – just as she had kept her problems to herself all those years before . . .

Alice opened the door to the boy and saw the telegram in his hand. She hated telegrams, ever since the one they had received during the war to say that Daniel was missing, believed dead. She took the telegram from the boy and went back inside the house. It was addressed to Daniel and she knew it had to be urgent, because no one sent a telegram unless it was bad news.

Daniel was out in the barn working on one of his cars. She went out to him, her stomach tying itself in knots.

‘Dan . . .'

He looked up in surprise as she held the small yellowish envelope out to him. ‘What is it?'

‘A telegram.'

‘Oh . . .' He took it from her and ripped the envelope open, a soft curse escaping as he read what was inside. ‘This is from Emily – Frances is dead. Apparently, she had a brain tumour . . .'

‘Oh no!' Alice felt sick, shaken. She stared at him in dismay. ‘Dan, why didn't she tell someone? Why didn't Emily tell us?'

‘She didn't know. She has asked me to telephone her straight away. I'd better find a phone box and ring her now.'

‘Yes. I'm so sorry, Dan. I feel terrible. Frances asked us for Christmas and we didn't go . . .'

‘If she'd said something . . .' Daniel shook his head. ‘It's no excuse, I know. I should have made time to take you and the kids more often. I always thought there would be plenty of time in the future.'

‘Everyone always thinks that,' Alice said with tears in her eyes. ‘Sometimes time just runs out.'

Daniel was pensive as he drove into Stretton. Frances dying so suddenly had left him feeling stunned. He found himself remembering the times when Frances had been his big sister. She'd taken him up the street to buy sweets when he was just a lad. He'd come home from the war just after his father died and Frances had been about to get married. After that he hadn't seen her all that much – until Marcus died, and then he had thought she was behaving foolishly, but he hadn't known what Sam Danby was doing to her.

‘Frances, I'm sorry.'

Daniel wasn't sure whether he was apologizing for not knowing what was going on when she was in trouble years earlier or not sensing something was wrong these past months.

She had seemed fine the last time he'd seen her, but, of course, that was months ago. He had meant to phone her but he'd tried once and been told she was out. After that he had just let it slip.

Daniel wondered what would happen about the money he had borrowed from Frances. She had said he could pay it back when he was ready, but it might depend on what the lawyers had to say . . . But he shouldn't be thinking of that at a time like this! He was ashamed of himself for worrying about his personal plans when Frances had just died.

Emily would be devastated. She had been closer to Frances than any of them. Her telegram made it clear that she hadn't known either – so why had Frances kept it from them all?

‘She wouldn't!' Daniel exclaimed into the mouthpiece, as Emily told him what Tara Manners had said about Clay. ‘Frances was bitter over what he did to Margaret and the bankruptcy. She blamed Clay for taking all the best land – and me for not giving her the choice to sell her share of the farm. She wouldn't confide in Clay if she didn't tell us . . .'

‘Then how did he know? I'm surprised she even had him and Dorothy to stay,' Emily replied from her end. ‘I can't understand why she would tell him something like that and not me.' There was a little break in her voice as she said, ‘I wish I'd known, Dan. I've been wrapped up in things here but I would have gone down if I'd known – and I would have brought her back to Vanbrough.'

‘Perhaps that is what she didn't want – us making a fuss over her,' Daniel suggested. ‘She used to write to Alice all the time, but I think there has only been one letter since Christmas.'

‘I rang her several times but she was always out – or that's what I was told. I'm wondering if I was deliberately kept from speaking to her . . .'

‘Who would do that – unless Frances deliberately cut herself off from all of us?'

‘I'm thinking Clay,' Emily said. ‘He had gone to see the undertakers without even consulting us. He did ring me last evening . . .'

‘What did he say?'

‘He said that it was my fault if I didn't know my sister was ill – and that Frances had asked him to take care of everything.'

‘Do you believe him?'

‘I don't know. I am going down there tomorrow and the funeral is on Monday. Will you come?'

‘Yes, of course. I'm not sure about Alice. I'll see what she says.'

‘Connor and Sarah are here. Connor says he won't come, because he hadn't seen Frances for ages. Besides, Sarah has had enough trauma for the moment and she may have to go home for her mother's funeral. I suppose Frances and Connor were never close.'

‘I'll talk to him. Shall I come to Vanbrough, Emily? We could go down to Cornwall together.'

‘Yes, perhaps that would be best,' Emily agreed. ‘You really should have a phone put in, Dan. I wanted to talk to you last night.'

‘Yes, I shall when we move into the village,' he said. ‘I'll see if I can afford it sooner.'

‘I'll see you soon, then?'

‘If I'm coming on my own, I'll be there by this evening. If Alice wants to come, it will probably be tomorrow sometime.'

‘I should like to see Alice, but I really do need to see you, Dan. I've been crying all night . . .'

‘I knew this would upset you,' Daniel said. ‘You were closer to Frances than any of us. I feel dreadful. She loaned me some money when we were down there and apart from a quick call at Christmas I hadn't been in touch.'

‘Don't blame yourself too much,' Emily said with a little sob in her voice.

‘I don't. Neither of us imagined anything like this would happen.'

‘But we should have done,' Emily said. ‘Clay is right. It is my fault if I didn't know my sister was ill.'

‘Of course it isn't Emily's fault,' Alice said when Daniel got home. ‘She is busy, just as we are. Frances could have told us she was ill. It wouldn't have been easy, but you would have got there somehow if you'd known.'

‘Perhaps she wasn't expecting it to happen so suddenly,' Daniel said. ‘Do you want to come with me, Alice? I called in to see Mary. She says she won't go for the funeral, but she will have some of the children if you want to come.'

‘Not this time,' Alice told him. ‘You'll travel easier and faster alone and Emily needs you. I should like to visit her during the school holidays and take all the children. Send her my love and tell her not to blame herself.'

‘I'm afraid she does,' Daniel said and went to put his arms about her. ‘You will be all right here on your own? Shall I ask Mary to come and stop?'

‘How can I be alone with five children?' Alice smiled and kissed him. ‘You get off and don't worry about me, Dan.'

‘I'm going to pack my things . . .' He laughed as he saw his wife's face. ‘You've done it for me. I might have known you would. I'll send you a telegram when I get there.'

‘No, just a postcard after the funeral. I hate telegrams. We should have a telephone put in, Daniel.'

‘We will,' he promised. ‘I'm going to get off straight away, because Emily wants to go down to the hotel tomorrow.'

‘You said the funeral is on Monday?'

‘Yes. I think Emily wants to confront Clay – and she needs me with her.'

‘Don't get involved in another feud, Dan. It isn't worth it. You've been at odds with Clay for years.'

‘I shall keep out of it if I can – but I have to support Emily. She wants to know what has been going on.'

‘Are you sure you won't come with us?' Daniel asked his brother. ‘I know you didn't always get on with Frances, but she is your sister.'

‘Sarah has been through enough recently,' Connor told him. ‘I'm sorry Frances was so ill and sorry that she died like that, but going to her funeral won't change things. I hadn't seen her for years. I rang her a couple of times but then she started refusing my calls . . .'

‘She did it to Emily too,' Daniel said and frowned. ‘I think she was too ill to know what she was doing. Emily thinks Clay had something to do with it, but I would be inclined to think Frances gave orders she wasn't to be disturbed.'

‘Perhaps,' Connor agreed. ‘I am surprised she even had him to stay, because she was bitter about what he did . . . but if her mind had started to play tricks on her . . .'

Daniel nodded. ‘It doesn't bear thinking about, does it? I'll get off then, because I know Emily wants to get there and hear what Clay has to say for himself.'

‘Emily has told us we can have the wedding here and I think we may. Sarah says she would rather it was here – we're planning a few weeks after her mother's funeral.'

‘That might work out well. Alice wants to come and stay during the school holidays. She is looking forward to your wedding.'

‘Yeah? So am I.'

‘You are still here, then?' Emily gave her elder brother a look of dislike as they met in Frances's private sitting room. She had never forgiven him for all the trouble he had caused during the war. ‘It's just as well, because I want to know what has been going on here.'

Clay Searles met her furious gaze without blinking. He was a tall man who had been as good-looking as his brothers when he was young but had thickened and coarsened over the years. There were streaks of grey at his temples and red veins with purple patches in his cheeks.

‘I visited Frances just after Christmas. She asked me to bring Dorothy down for a few days, which I did a week or so ago. Frances wasn't well. She hadn't been well for some months. She had terrible headaches and sometimes she was depressed – black moods that took her over. Tara Manners will tell you that sometimes she shut herself up all day and said she didn't want any calls put through.'

‘If you knew she wasn't right when you visited the first time, why didn't you tell me?'

‘Frances didn't tell me it was serious. I discovered that for myself when her doctor rang and I answered. She had missed two hospital appointments for treatment.'

‘She was having treatment?'

‘She was due to have a course of treatment that can be unpleasant. Maybe she didn't fancy going through all that trauma.'

‘Frances hated hospitals,' Daniel said. ‘It's a pity you didn't tell us, Clay.'

‘Frances said she had asked you to stay repeatedly but you kept making excuses. If she didn't feel like telling you, that was her business.'

‘You could still have given us some idea,' Emily said. ‘What have you been up to? When did Frances ask you to see to the arrangements for her funeral?'

‘It was in a letter in her desk.'

‘You've been through her desk?' Emily glared at him. ‘What else did you find?'

‘A copy of her will, if that is what you want to know,' Clay said.

‘Was there anything else?' Daniel asked.

‘Like what?' Clay's gaze narrowed.

‘Letters. I thought she might have left a letter for Emily or me.'

‘No, just the letter asking me to see to the arrangements. I'm her next of kin – and that is what it says on the envelope.'

‘She probably thought that was you, Dan,' Emily said. ‘If her mind was muddled, she wouldn't have been able to think clearly.'

‘Well, whatever she thought when she wrote the letter, I'm the eldest and that makes me the one she wanted to see to things for her.'

Emily walked towards the desk and opened the drawers, looking through them. She found some receipts and a few Christmas cards but nothing else.