Promise Made (8 page)

‘Have you considered staying on at school for another year?' Daniel said to his retreating back. He felt guilty because he was aware that Connor had been expecting to live with him and Alice. Daniel knew that Alice wouldn't have minded having him with them, but he didn't feel it was fair. She had a new house to cope with as well as their son and him. Besides, Daniel wanted some time alone with her. They had never had a real honeymoon, except for one night at the Lamb Hotel in Ely, because he'd had to go back to his unit. Yes, they needed a little time to get used to each other. Perhaps in a couple of months or so. ‘Think about it, Connor. It might be the best thing . . .'

Connor didn't answer him. Daniel felt as if he'd let his brother down. It might have been different if he'd had the money Cley owed him. He could have started the little business he wanted and let Connor farm the fields he still owned. As it was, he wasn't sure how long he would be able to hang on to them. He might have to sell, though they wouldn't bring in even enough to finish paying off what he owed on the house.

‘I wish Henry had come with us this evening,' Mary confided to Emily as they drove back to the farm. ‘That was a lovely meal, and it was nice having the family all together. Except for Cley, of course, and we don't count him as family anymore. I sometimes feel so sorry for Dorothy. Cley never takes her anywhere.'

‘She is a fool to let him get away with it,' Emily said. ‘But I don't have time for Cley. He isn't like any of the others.' She sighed as her thoughts drifted back to the time before her father married for the second time. ‘What Cley did to Margaret was disgusting. She was our stepmother after all – but he has never treated Dorothy as he ought. I have no idea why she married him.'

‘No . . .' Mary was thoughtful, then: ‘Henry has always been good to me, Emily. I know he isn't as clever as Daniel, and perhaps it is his fault that the farm is in trouble – but he's a good man.'

‘Yes, of course he is,' Emily said warmly. She was very fond of her eldest brother, Mary too. ‘It wasn't all Henry's fault. The war made things difficult for him – and Cley didn't exactly play fair. If he hadn't insisted on taking his share of the estate out when Margaret did, forcing us to borrow so heavily, it might not have gone so badly.'

‘You've helped him all you could,' Mary said. ‘But he needed Daniel to put him right on things. If Dan had been here . . .' She sighed as they drew up outside the house. ‘That's odd, there are no lights. I know the boys are staying with friends, and your Robert is with Alice's parents, but Henry said he would be working at home.'

‘Perhaps he was tired and went to bed. You said he had admitted to feeling not quite right earlier.'

‘He half promised to go to the doctor tomorrow,' Mary said. Her voice was breathy and Emily sensed that she was anxious. She locked the car and followed her sister-in-law up to the back door. It was odd that the kitchen was in darkness and she had an uneasy feeling that something was wrong. She was almost expecting it when Mary switched on the light and gave a cry of alarm. ‘Henry!'

Henry was sitting at the kitchen table, slumped forward, his head on his arms. There was something odd about the way he was positioned, somehow stiff and unnatural. Emily's heart jerked with fear as she went to him. She felt for a pulse but his skin was cold and she knew even before Mary lifted his head and looked at his face.

‘Oh, Henry,' Mary said on a sob, cradling his head against her ample breasts for a moment. ‘Not tonight, love. Not when I'd left you alone. I've never left you alone before . . .' She looked at Emily, her face working with grief. ‘He made me come with you, said I should go and enjoy myself – and now look what he's done. I just wish I'd been with him.'

‘You probably couldn't have done anything. Henry has been ill for a long time, Mary. He ought to have seen a doctor ages ago.'

‘He always said he was too busy, told me not to fuss so much,' Mary said, tears sliding down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Emily. He was such a good man. He didn't deserve this . . .' She caught back a sob of despair. ‘He felt he had let you all down.'

‘Of course he didn't,' Emily said, her throat tight with emotion, because she had been so very fond of her brother. He was slow and inclined to get things in a muddle at times, but kind and dear. She put her arms about Henry's wife, letting Mary cry, stroking her shoulder. She had done something similar many times in the past with relatives of dying patients, but this struck home because Henry was her brother and she loved him very much. ‘Henry was a dear and he did his best. It wasn't his fault that it all went so wrong. You mustn't ever think that we blame him, Mary.'

‘No, it wasn't his fault.' Mary raised her head. Her cheeks were wet with tears but she was making an effort to control them. ‘It wasn't his fault that the war came and he got in such a muddle with all the regulations, but he blamed himself.' She fished for a handkerchief in the pocket of her serviceable coat and blew her nose hard. ‘What do I do now? I suppose we need the doctor and . . .' Words failed her. She looked at her sister-in-law, clearly at a loss. ‘What am I going to tell the boys?'

‘Leave that until the morning,' Emily suggested. ‘Would you like me to telephone for the doctor? I'll ring Frances too and ask her to contact Daniel. Alice's father isn't on the telephone but Marcus will go along the street and tell him. Unless you want to do it yourself?'

‘I would rather you did it,' Mary said. ‘I'm going to put clean sheets on the bed, because they will lay him there for the moment, won't they?'

‘Yes, I expect so. Until we can make the arrangements for the undertaker to come. Do you want Henry to stay here or be taken to a chapel of rest?'

‘He stays here until the last,' Mary said. ‘He would come back and haunt me if I sent him away. Excuse me, I must make sure we're tidy before anyone comes.'

Emily watched as her sister-in-law hurried away. She knew that Mary was merely making an excuse to tidy up, but she needed to be busy, because she wasn't ready to face what had happened.

Emily bent down to kiss Henry's cold cheek. ‘Poor old love,' she whispered. ‘I am so sorry, Henry. So sorry, my dear.'

She touched his head once more and then walked out into the hall to make the necessary phone calls. She must telephone the doctor first, but the police would also have to be informed because Henry had died suddenly. It was all so sad and she wasn't sure that Mary would get her wish and keep Henry at home until the last. There might have to be an inquest into his death, because it had happened so quickly.

She decided to phone Frances first, because she needed Daniel to be here. Emily had coped with this situation so often at the convalescent home, but this time it was different. This time it was her brother and she wanted to sit down and weep, but she had to be strong for Mary's sake.

‘I wish you weren't leaving immediately,' Frances said as they walked out of church together some days later. ‘It is all so horrible. Mary is wandering about as if she doesn't know what time of day it is and I keep thinking of Henry dying alone . . .'

‘Don't love, there's nothing you can do to change things.' Emily gave her a hug. Frances was tearful, fishing for her handkerchief. ‘Yes, I know. It is awful, but it was his choice, Frances. He didn't want to come to the hotel with us that evening, and he insisted that Mary went alone. I'm just glad that Robert was with Alice's parents, and that Henry's boys were staying with friends.'

‘That is what I mean. He was completely alone. It must be terrible to die all alone . . .' Frances shuddered and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Poor old Henry – except that he wasn't so very old. He wasn't even forty, Emily. He just seemed to be old, perhaps because he was ill or the worry of the farm was too much for him. I loved him. He didn't deserve to go that way.'

‘Yes, I loved Henry too,' Emily agreed, feeling her throat tighten. ‘Apparently, it was his heart, and he knew that he might not have much time left. He had been to see Dr Merton, but he'd kept it from all of us, just carried on as he always did. I suppose the fact that he had visited the doctor made it easier with the certificate . . .'

‘Emily! How could you?' Frances looked shocked. ‘You seem so cold, so calm, as though it was just one of your patients and didn't matter.'

‘Everyone matters,' Emily said, holding her pain inside. ‘I care, of course I do. It is just that it meant they didn't need to take him away and Mary wanted him at home.' She could see that her sister thought she was uncaring, but she'd shed her tears for Henry in private.

Emily left Frances and went to her sister-in-law. Mary was looking rather lost, her eyes wearing a faraway expression as if she wasn't here in spirit. She was just standing there aimlessly, but she smiled as Emily came up to her.

‘The church was full. Henry would have liked that, wouldn't he? I am sure he never expected so many people to be here today.'

‘He would have been pleased.' Emily put a comforting arm about her waist, feeling her tremble. Mary was bearing up but only just. ‘Henry had a lot of friends. People liked him – and they respected him for what he was, Mary. You could always trust Henry.'

Mary blinked hard. ‘Dorothy is here, you know,' Mary said. ‘Cley didn't come, but Dorothy said she wanted to be with us. Wasn't that kind of her?'

‘Yes, but she is like that. Cley might have come, though.' Emily felt a flicker of anger against her brother.

‘It doesn't matter. Henry wouldn't have wanted him here. He never forgave him for what he did to Margaret – or for taking his share out of the land when he knew Henry couldn't afford to pay him.'

‘No, I suppose not.' Emily looked at her, sensing her unease. ‘You'll be all right, Mary. I have to go back because I am needed. Daniel will look after you – and the house is yours. You don't have to move if you don't want to, and then you could sell.'

Mary looked bewildered. ‘Are you sure? I thought everything had to go in the sale, but I don't understand these things.'

‘You mustn't worry about anything. Daniel will take care of everything,' Emily kissed her cheek. ‘I'm going to say goodbye to him. I'll write to you soon, Mary, and I'll ring you now and then, as I did Henry. You can always telephone me if you want me.'

She left her sister-in-law as other friends came up to them, making her way to where Daniel stood with Alice and Connor.

‘Can I talk to you for a moment, Dan?'

‘Yes, of course.' He glanced at his wife. ‘Go and have a word with Dorothy, love. She looks a bit lost over there. You go to Mary, Connor. Ask her if she needs any jobs doing at the house. Even if it's only chopping a bit of wood she'll be glad of some help, I daresay.'

‘It was good of Dorothy to come,' Emily said as the others went off. ‘Cley ought to have come with her though.'

‘Just as well he didn't. Mary blames him for all the worry Henry had over the farm – and I agree with her in part. Some of this is down to Cley.' Daniel's handsome face was tight with anger. ‘Cley has a lot to answer for.'

‘Yes, I agree,' Emily said. ‘I have to leave now, Dan. You know what we've arranged about Mary's house – and if anything is salvaged when they sell the farm it goes to Mary and the boys.'

‘Yes, of course. She will be all right. Her brother has already offered to take her in if she wants. She won't starve, Emily.'

‘I know that, but she may prefer her independence.'

‘I'm not sure what she wants, but we'll give her time to decide.'

‘I feel awful about leaving you with all this, Dan, but I'm needed at the home. Amelia has been on the phone almost every day.'

‘You told me. Besides, this is my responsibility. You've done your bit with the house.'

‘Mary isn't to know that I bought it from the bank,' Emily said. ‘Besides, it's only money. She needs more than that – but it is you, Alice and Frances who will have to supply the things I can't.'

‘We'll manage,' her brother said with a wry smile. ‘Stop worrying, Emily, and go. Robert looks anxious.'

‘Nanny is looking after him,' Emily said, though she could see that her son was pulling at Nanny's hand in an effort to break free. ‘I keep thinking – if I hadn't given Nanny the night off she might have been there with Henry.' She caught back a sob. ‘No, it wouldn't have changed anything. Dr Merton said his heart just gave up because it was worn out.'

‘He was a victim of the war like so many others,' Daniel said with a grim look. ‘If I had been here I could have taken some of the strain, but I was stuck in that damned camp siting on my backside and twiddling my thumbs. Don't blame yourself, Emily. Blame the war or fate or the government, but not yourself.'

‘No, I shan't,' she promised. ‘I'll go then – but don't forget what I said the other day. If you need money . . .' Daniel shook his head, making her smile because he was the same old stubborn Dan. ‘I know it isn't what you want, my dear, but it's there if you need it. Take care of yourself and Alice – and little Danny.'

Emily walked away from the church to her car. Nanny was waiting patiently, but Robert was pulling at her hand. He broke away from her as she came up to them, stumbling towards her on his chubby legs. Emily bent down to sweep him up in her arms. She held him close, loving the clean fresh smell of his soft body. Her love flowed towards him, wrapping about him. He was so precious and she loved him so much. She hugged and kissed him, setting him down again next to Nanny, who captured his hand.

‘Shall we go home?' she asked. ‘Is everything packed, Nanny?'

‘Yes, madam,' Nanny replied. ‘I daresay you will be glad to be on your way. These occasions are very sad.'