The Lie (11 page)

‘If I can manage it,' Daniel said. ‘If the worst comes to the worst we may have to sell, but not just yet.'

‘I think Marcus's father might buy it,' Emily said. ‘But I would rather you had it if you can manage to keep it, Dan.'

‘Well, we'll see how things go. I've got a few pounds put by.'

Emily nodded as he made the tea and brought the pot to the table. Daniel was her favourite brother apart from Connor, and she knew he'd worked hard for what he had, and of course they had all been left a little money; the girls from their maternal grandmother, the boys from Grandfather Searles. Except Connor, who hadn't been born when his grandfather died. She'd always expected their father would put that right, but it seemed he'd waited too long. Connor was the only one who didn't have anything, except some shares in the land – land that was already mortgaged and might have to be sold if things didn't go well.

‘What about Connor?' she asked. ‘Does he know how things stand?'

‘I've told him but he doesn't seem bothered,' Daniel said, and frowned. ‘I've got a couple of fields along Ely Road, Emily. I've told Henry to put them down to grass while I'm away. There's a small mortgage on them, but if I can manage to hang on to them I'll probably give them to Connor when he leaves school.'

‘That won't be for a while,' she said. ‘I'll help you with the mortgage if I can. We'll do it together for Connor – if that's what you really want?'

‘Leave it to me for the moment. I'll ask if I get stuck.' He smiled at her. ‘And now – tell me about your visit. What were Mr Vane's parents like?'

‘You'll never guess,' Emily said, and giggled. ‘They live in a huge country house, more like a manor house except that the moat was grassed over long ago and banked with roses. And his father is Lord Vane – Vane to his friends, and me.'

Daniel's brows rose. ‘Is the house falling down about their ears or are they rich?'

‘Rich, actually,' Emily said, her cheeks pink. ‘But very, very nice. They all made a fuss of me, because Simon doesn't take girlfriends home apparently – and he asked me to think about marrying him.'

‘Good grief! You've only just met him, Emily. It's far too soon to think about getting married.' Daniel frowned at her. He hadn't objected to her going to stay with Simon's family, because the Vanes were respectable people, but now he wondered if he ought to have stopped her. It was just that with the war and everything he wouldn't be around much and Emily was old enough to choose how she wanted to spend her life.

‘Yes, I know, that's what I told Simon, but he still wants me to think about it. He says we could get engaged on my birthday in October, and then marry at Christmas.'

‘Is that what you want?'

‘I don't know,' she said, and shook her head as his brows went up. ‘I was very happy staying there, Daniel. They are such lovely people.'

‘It's Simon you're marrying, not his family.'

‘I know  . . .' She sighed. ‘I like him a lot and he makes me feel  . . . sort of excited. You know what I mean?'

‘Yes, I know exactly. I hope you haven't been carried away by all this excitement?'

Emily laughed. ‘You don't need to come the heavy-handed brother, Dan. I'm not stupid, and I shan't get caught in that trap, I promise you. I might decide to get engaged on my birthday – after all, I shall be nineteen by then.'

‘A great age,' Daniel said, and ate the last of the biscuits. ‘But if you really want to get married I shan't try to stop you – not that I'm the one you have to persuade. I suppose Henry is your guardian now.' He sighed. ‘I wish Father hadn't died. Everything seems to have fallen apart  . . . the family I mean.'

‘Yes, I know. As for being my guardian, Henry would do whatever you say. You must know that,' Emily said. ‘Not that you have to worry for the moment. I shan't do anything foolish.'

‘I'm glad to hear it,' Daniel said. ‘I'm going to the pub now – want to come?'

‘Thanks, but I've got a few things I need to get ready. I report back for work tomorrow and then I shall be moving to my new posting.'

‘Any idea where that will be yet?'

‘It could be anywhere,' Emily said. ‘I shall just have to wait and see when I report in tomorrow.'

‘Good luck then. I shall miss seeing you when you go.'

‘I shall miss you too. What are you going to do with yourself?'

‘I thought I'd go through the farm accounts for Henry, and then I'll tinker about with some of the machinery. I saw a car for sale in the local paper the other day. I might buy that and start working on it. Henry says there's an empty barn I can use for anything I like at the farm.'

‘Well, you won't have time to miss me by the sound of it,' Emily said. ‘Good night then, have a nice time.'

‘I'll see you before you leave,' Daniel said. ‘Connor is at his friend's house for the night. So don't worry about him.'

Emily nodded, rising to swill the cups under the remainder of the boiling water in the kettle, as he went out of the back door.

She rinsed out a few clothes and hung them out on the line, then sorted out the things she wanted to take with her when she moved on. Her thoughts now were centred on the coming transfer and her few days with Simon and his family seemed almost a dream.

Emily was surprised when they told her she was going to Liverpool. The city seemed far away and alien to her and she'd secretly hoped for London, which was only a couple of hours on the train from home. However, she couldn't pick and choose and she knew that the ports and industrial cities were likely to experience heavy bombing once things really got under way. At the moment the Luftwaffe seemed to be concentrating on shipping in the Channel and only a few raids had actually happened on British soil, but it was simply a matter of time, of course. People had been expecting the
blitzkrieg
to come since the previous September, but for some reason Hitler seemed to be holding back from attacking the big cities.

‘Liverpool?' Carole stared at her disappointedly when Emily told her. Mum will never let me go up there – mucky, dirty place, all slums and dockers. I hoped they would send you to London.'

‘So did I,' Emily admitted, and shrugged. ‘But we go where we're sent. I suppose they need help. I don't really mind. Apparently, the lodgings I've been given are in Birkenhead, which is over the river and nicer, so Miss Brown says. She knows the area well and she says some of it is lovely. You don't have to live in the slums, you know.'

‘Well, I suppose not,' Carole said. ‘I'll have to think about it.' She was silent for a moment, then, ‘I promised I would ask so don't bite my head off – Terry Burgess would like you to visit him in hospital.'

‘What on earth for?'

‘I think he wants to apologize. I don't really know – but he was in a better mood last time I saw him.'

‘I'm glad he's feeling better,' Emily replied. ‘But there's no point in my going. I don't even know him.'

‘Well, I promised to ask. You don't have to go.' Carole looked at her curiously. ‘What was your sister's wedding like?'

‘Oh  . . . nice,' Emily said. ‘Frances was happy. I had a tiff with my brother but we made it up later – and I went to stay with friends for a few days. They live somewhere near Winchester, in a lovely house right out in the country.'

‘Lucky you,' Carole said. ‘Nothing exciting ever happens to me. It's all because of this rotten war.'

‘Yes, it has a lot to answer for.'

She turned away as the phones started to ring. It was the beginning of a busy afternoon and an even busier evening as one of the local factories sustained some damage in a small explosion. Fortunately, no one was hurt this time.

It made Emily think about the fireman who had been hurt though, and the next morning she decided she would visit him after all. Her first reaction had been to dismiss his request, but now that she'd had time to consider she realized that she wasn't angry. It wouldn't kill her to visit Terry Burgess, and she could leave if he was surly.

As it happened, he was sitting in the day room reading a magazine when she arrived. He looked at her a little awkwardly and then launched into an apology.

‘It was a foul thing to say to you, Miss Searles. I was feeling rotten and I took it out on you. Will you forgive me?'

‘I should think I could manage that,' Emily said, and laughed. He still had a nasty blister on his cheek, but the heavy bandages on his hands had been replaced with thin cotton gloves. ‘I might have felt as you did in your place. It isn't very pleasant to go through what you did, I should imagine.'

‘Others have it worse. Look at some of the poor devils in those convoys. We've been lucky here so far, but it won't last.'

‘No, I don't suppose so.' She was wearing the dark blue skirt, white blouse and navy cardigan she wore for work, her hair pulled back into a neat pleat, but her skin had a peach bloom and she looked lovely. ‘My brother says it's going to be a long war.'

‘Is that the one who was wounded at Dunkirk?' He had obviously been asking questions about her, Emily realized.

‘Yes. Daniel. He doesn't talk about it much, but I think it was pretty awful. He was lucky to get back.'

‘It's a wonder they got as many away as they did.' Terry hesitated awkwardly. ‘They're going to discharge me in a few days. Would you come to the pictures with me one day?'

‘I'm sorry but I'm being transferred in a couple of days. They're sending me to Liverpool.'

‘Just my luck,' he said ruefully. ‘Would you have come otherwise?'

‘Yes, I don't see why not.' Emily smiled at him. He was nice-looking in a rugged sort of way, and she quite liked him. ‘I'll send you a postcard to the station house, let you know how I'm getting on if you like?'

‘Thanks.' He grinned at her. ‘I suppose that's the fortunes of war. It was decent of you to visit me again, Emily.'

‘No trouble. I hope your hands will be better soon.'

‘They're healing. I wasn't sure they would but I can move the fingers now. It hurts like hell, of course, but they tell me I'll be back to work in a few months.'

‘I'm really glad,' Emily said. ‘Well, I have to go now. I'm on duty again this evening, and then I get a couple of days off before I report to my new post.'

‘Good luck, then. Take care of yourself up there.'

‘I shall.' She smiled at him. ‘Have a good war.'

‘You too.' He grinned, watching her as she walked the length of the common room, her hips swaying enticingly. ‘Just my bloody luck  . . .'

Five

M
argaret looked around the bedroom, making a mental note of things she intended to pack when she left. Those silver items on the dressing table, not strictly hers but pretty and given to her to use when she married; and that Lalique glass vase on the window sill. She might as well take as much as she could; they'd screwed her down to the last penny for her share of Robert's assets. She was going to get as much as she could before she left.

She felt a lot better in herself now, the guilt almost gone. Robert was a grown man, responsible for his own health. Her few days away had refreshed her, making her see life differently. Her affair with Michael Knight wasn't exactly on again, but it probably would be once she'd settled back in London. He'd told her about a decent flat going in Belgravia, and she knew it wasn't too far from his office. He would be near enough to visit when he had a few hours to spare.

Michael's business was one of those considered vital to the war effort. She knew it had kept him out of conscription and gave him certain privileges, besides earning him a lot of money. She'd been a fool to quarrel with him, and an even bigger one to marry Robert. Michael and she understood one another and she would settle for what she could get in future  . . .

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard something outside her door. She turned, thinking it might be Emily or Daniel, but when the door opened suddenly, she stiffened, her nerves jangling as she saw who it was.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘I knew you were back. I wanted to see you.'

‘You could have waited downstairs.'

‘Oh, no, I've had enough of waiting,' Clay said, eyes narrowing. ‘You've kept me dangling long enough. You got what you wanted, now it's my turn.'

‘I don't know what you mean  . . .' Alarm bells were ringing. There was something odd about him at that moment, a glitter in his eyes that unnerved her.

‘Then perhaps I'd better show you.' Clay moved towards her purposefully. Margaret backed away, smothering a scream. ‘Don't be shy. You've been asking for it for months. Now you're going to get it.'

‘You're drunk!' She could smell the drink on his breath. She put up her hands defensively. ‘Stay away from me  . . .'

‘I've had a couple, but don't worry. I can still give you what you want.' His eyes glittered. ‘Thought I was your lap dog, didn't you? Well, now I'm going to teach you to sit up and beg.'

Margaret gasped. She knew there wasn't any point in pleading. She had met this sort before, though he'd kept his nature well hidden while his father was alive. But he wasn't going to get his way easily. She would fight to the last.

‘Do this and you'll be sorry,' she said. ‘If you know what's good for you, you'll get out now.'

‘I know what's good for me, all right.' He struck her across the face, and she went for him with her nails, scoring his cheek and drawing blood. The next minute he lunged at her, grabbing her around the waist. He was shaking with excitement, beads of sweat on his face. She could taste the blood on her lips as he ground his mouth on hers, his teeth bruising her. She struggled, clawing at him where his flesh was exposed, tearing his skin. She brought her knee up sharply but he was ready for her, and avoided the crippling action. He swung her round, forcing her arm up against her back. Then he thrust her forward so that she fell face down across the side of the bed. Holding her down with one hand, he pulled her dress up above her head, tucking it round her head and face so that it half suffocated her, making her more helpless, and then he ripped away her expensive silk knickers.