Promise Made (35 page)

Emily's eyes pricked with tears as she laid the letter down. She got up and walked over to where a small portrait of Vane was hanging above the mantelpiece. It had been painted when he was in his thirties, young and handsome – very like Simon but with a stronger jawline and a more masculine appeal.

She heard the telephone ringing in the hall but didn't go to answer it, staring up at the portrait as if trying to read Vane's mind. He had been smiling and confident when it was painted, a young man in love with life.

‘A Dr Renton is on the telephone, madam,' her housekeeper said from the doorway. ‘I said I would inquire if you were in, Mrs Vane?'

Emily looked at her for a moment, then shook her head. ‘I have gone out, Mrs Jones. Please thank him for calling – but I am not at home.'

‘Yes, Mrs Vane. Are you at home to anyone?'

‘Not for a while – unless it is family, thank you.'

Emily went back to her contemplation of Vane's portrait as the door closed behind the housekeeper. It seemed to her that his smile had deepened, and his eyes seemed to be slightly mocking.

‘So you've won then, Vane,' she said.

‘I always do, my dear,' his voice said in her head. ‘But you know it is what you truly want.'

‘I wish I knew what I want,' Emily said. ‘You've set a trap for me, Vane. I shall be too busy to feel lonely – but whether it is what I truly want I don't know.'

She laughed and went back to his desk, sitting in his chair, feeling his presence. Whether she liked it or not, this was where she belonged. She was needed and wanted – and perhaps she was loved by some of those she helped. If this house was her prison, it was a beautiful one and she loved it. And perhaps one day she would find someone to share it with her. Until then, she had her work . . . just as before.

It had been the patients at the convalescent home who had taken all her time during the war and the empty years after Terry's death, easing the grief and the sense of loneliness. Now it would be the house and the community, all of them making demands that would drain her of energy and take all she had to give. She was starting at the bottom and it would be a long time before she could believe that she was filling Vane's shoes, but she had to try.

‘You are not alone, my beautiful Emily,' Vane's voice seemed to be very close, his presence wrapping her about like comforting arms. ‘I am always here.'

‘Oh, I wish you were,' she said and for a moment tears stung her eyes, but then she smiled, fighting them back, because she had no time for tears. Vane had chosen her because she was strong – strong enough to find her way, strong enough to keep the promise she had made. ‘Damn you, go away, Vane. Get out of my head. I have work to do!' She sat down at his desk and opened his appointments diary. She had a new life ahead of her, and it had to start somewhere . . .