Read Promise Made Online

Authors: Linda Sole

Promise Made (2 page)

‘Don't eat all the sweets at once,' Frances said, her voice coming out sharper than she intended. ‘We are going to have our tea in a minute or two. I baked a sponge this morning and some rock buns.'

‘Save the sweets for later, eh, lad?' Sam winked at Frances. His eyes moved over her appreciatively. She was an attractive woman. She had a good figure and there was something about her that made men turn their heads to look twice. She was a bit sharp sometimes, but he liked her that way. ‘Your mother makes the best rock buns ever, Charlie.' He grinned at her. ‘You look like a film star with your hair that way – had it cut, I see.'

‘Thank you,' she said stiffly. She was a bit nervous about her hair, because Marcus had always liked it long. She hoped he would like it the way it was now. The gleam in Sam's eyes made her stomach tighten but she managed to retain her composure. ‘I'll ask Muriel to bring the trolley in, shall I?'

‘You do that, lass, then we can be comfortable together – no interruptions. I look forward to our little chats. Just you, me and Charlie here.'

Frances gave him a cool nod. She left the room, her heart beating a little too fast, and went into the large kitchen, which still smelled of baking and herbs. Muriel looked at her and smiled and Frances felt better. She always tried to make sure that her help was here on a Wednesday afternoon. Comfortably plump and placid, Muriel made Frances feel that much safer.

‘You can bring the trolley in now, Muriel.'

‘Right you are, Mrs Danby,' Muriel said. ‘I'll get off straight afterwards, if you don't mind. My lad is coming home tomorrow and I want to get things nice for him.'

‘You must be so pleased to have Bob home,' Frances said, forgetting her own problems for the moment. ‘We're the lucky ones, Muriel, and I do understand. Yes, you get off. I can manage – and I shall see you next week.'

She returned to the sitting room, Muriel following with the two-tier wooden trolley.

‘Ah, Muriel,' Sam Danby said smiling pleasantly. ‘I hear your lad is coming home. If he wants a job on the lorries you tell him to see me. Bob was always a steady lad. I'll be pleased to take him on.'

‘Thank you, Mr Danby. I'll tell him.' She looked pleased because he was an important man in the village and she was flattered that he wanted her son to work for him. ‘Excuse me, I'm off home now. I've got a lot to do.'

‘Going to kill the fatted calf? The lad deserves it from what I hear. Got himself promotion and a medal. Our lads are heroes, Muriel.'

Muriel beamed at him and left the room. Frances poured tea and placed a cup beside him on the small, occasional table.

‘What will you have to eat, Sam? Muriel has made egg sandwiches and there's your favourite buns . . .'

‘I'll have some of those sandwiches and two of your buns, lass. I missed lunch today. Had something to do.'

‘Have you been busy?' Frances made an effort. ‘You have the land and the lorries – besides the London property. It will make things easier for you when Marcus comes home, I expect.'

‘I daresay.' He patted her bottom as she came closer to hand him his plate. Frances moved away quickly, holding back her feelings of disgust. ‘You've got a rare figure on you, Francis. Marcus is a lucky dog!'

Frances suspected that he had deliberately changed the subject. She had tried talking to him about his various businesses before and he invariably ignored her. She thought there was something hidden, something he didn't want her to know. Sometimes she sensed a darker, sinister side to Sam – but perhaps that was just because of the way he looked at her. Everyone else seemed to respect him even if they didn't exactly like him.

‘You haven't heard anything from Marcus, have you?' she asked because she couldn't trust herself not to say what she really wanted to tell him.

Sam frowned. ‘I should be the last to hear. He will ring you or his mother first. I'll see him when he gets home. It shouldn't be long now.'

‘No, thank goodness,' Frances said. She saw his eyes narrow and looked at her son. ‘Charlie, you're dropping bits of egg on the carpet. Stop it, please.'

‘You go into the garden, lad,' Sam said. ‘I'll see you again before I go. I might have something else in my pocket for you.'

Frances wanted to protest but couldn't. Her stomach was tying itself into knots and she avoided looking at Sam as her son went outside. She watched him give most of his sandwich to the puppy.

‘That dog is a nuisance. It is licking Charlie's fingers and he's eating his bun. He could pick up all kinds of things from an animal like that, you know.'

‘The lad likes it,' Sam said. ‘You're too strict with him, Frances. A bit of dirt won't hurt him. I worked on the land when I was a boy and I didn't have anywhere to wash my hands when it was docky time.'

‘You spoil him,' Frances said, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes.

‘Mebbe I do,' Sam agreed. His gaze narrowed as he looked at her. ‘You could be a bit warmer to me, Frannie. I like you, lass. We could be friends – mebbe a bit more if you wanted.'

‘You are Marcus's father!' Frances stood up feeling shocked. What was he implying? She wanted to scream at him to leave but as usual she was hampered by the need to prevent a damaging breach. ‘Please, Mr Danby, don't . . .'

‘I speak my mind,' he said and got to his feet. She felt her stomach clench as he came closer, fearing that he meant to grab her. ‘You needn't worry. I shan't force anything on you, but I've fancied you for a while now. If you get tired of waiting . . .' He broke off as the telephone shrilled and Frances rushed to answer it.

Her hand was trembling as she picked it up, her voice breathy. ‘Hello. Frances Danby . . .'

‘Are you all right, darling?'

‘Marcus!' Relief flooded through her as she heard her husband's voice. ‘I've been thinking of you all day, wondering what you were doing.'

‘That's what I like to hear,' Marcus said, deep-throated with emotion. ‘It's good news, Fran. I've finally got my papers. I'll be home sometime next week and this time it's for good.'

‘That's wonderful!' Her voice broke on a sob of relief. He was coming home at last and the nightmare of the past few years would be over. ‘I've missed you so much, darling. It seems so long since you were home.'

‘It's nearly two months,' he agreed. ‘I know everyone thinks the war is over and we can all go home, but things have to be cleared up, Fran. We've got to get our men home as well as a lot more stuff that doesn't get into the papers – but I've done my stint and it won't be long now.'

‘I can't wait . . .' She turned her head as she sensed Sam behind her. He nodded his head and walked past, letting himself out of the front door. She almost sagged with relief. ‘No, it won't be long.' She cradled the phone to her ear. ‘I'm so glad, Marcus. So glad . . .'

She could hear a car engine starting and wheels spinning on gravel and knew her father-in-law was leaving. Perhaps he would curtail his visits once Marcus was home. He must know she wasn't interested in him in that way. Surely he would leave her alone now!

‘Emily,' Amelia said as she saw her come in, her arms laden with parcels. ‘Did you enjoy your shopping trip? You seem to have bought a lot.'

‘It is so nice to see things in the shops again,' Emily said. ‘There were so many things we simply couldn't get during the war, even if we had the coupons, but it is getting better at last. I found some lovely French perfume for my sister's birthday – and I bought some Yardley Lavender water for you, Amelia. I know you like it.'

Emily smiled at Vane's wife. She was dressed in jodhpurs and an old jacket, the elbows patched with leather. She never wore make-up and used the lavender water only on her handkerchiefs, but it was her favourite and helped her when she had one of her headaches, which came more often these days.

‘Thank you,' Amelia said. ‘That was very thoughtful of you. A letter came for you this afternoon. It is on the hall table.'

‘Oh, thank you,' Emily said. ‘It is probably from my brother Henry. I have been expecting him to write. I'll read it after dinner.' She smiled at Amelia. ‘How is Vane? I thought he looked a little tired this morning.'

‘He ought to rest more,' Amelia said and frowned, ‘but he won't listen to me. He might listen to you, Emily. You know he values your opinion.'

‘Oh, I doubt anyone could keep Vane in bed if he didn't want to be there,' Emily said. ‘Excuse me. I must just pop up and see Robert. Has he been a good boy?'

‘You know he is never any trouble,' Amelia said. ‘Vane bought him a puppy home from the farm. He is insisting on having it in the nursery, though Nanny isn't too happy – and I can't blame her. He is too young for a dog, Emily.'

‘Oh no, surely not,' Emily said and laughed. ‘It does children good to learn about looking after animals. Nanny must be firm. The puppy stays in the kitchen area until it is house-trained.'

She ignored Amelia's look of annoyance and ran up the stairs, depositing her small pile of parcels on her bed before going along to the nursery. Robert was her darling, the light of her life, and she couldn't wait to see him with his new puppy.

Connor was out late again that evening. Frances glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost nine o'clock. She hadn't delayed supper for him, because he often didn't come home until bedtime. He preferred to stop with his friend Peter at Alice's house. He had declared his intention of living with Daniel and Alice when his brother came home. If she were honest, Frances would be relieved to see him go. She stood up, thinking that she would leave something on the kitchen table for Connor and go upstairs. She wouldn't sleep yet, but her brother could let himself in.

As she went out into the hall the telephone rang. She picked it up hoping it might be Marcus again, though she knew that wasn't likely. He wouldn't ring twice on the same day.

‘Good evening, Frances Danby speaking.'

‘Frances,' Emily's voice came over the phone like a breath of fresh air. ‘Are you all right, love? You sound a little tired – or upset?'

‘Yes, I am a little. I was just thinking of going to bed,' Frances said. ‘Connor hasn't been home all evening. I don't know where he gets to at night.'

‘You worry too much,' her sister said. ‘Connor is nearly sixteen, Frances. He isn't a child. Some of the soldiers who died out there weren't much older than he is now.'

‘I suppose not,' Frances admitted. ‘I forget that most of the time. He still seems a little kid to me.' She sighed. ‘What have you been doing? Are you at the house?'

‘No, I've been trying to make sense of the accounts for the home. I was about to leave and then I thought I would give you a ring.'

‘I'm glad you did. We don't talk to each other enough, Emily. With you living so far away and me stuck here. If I could drive I would come and see you, but it is such a drag on the train.'

‘You sound miserable – are you?'

‘No, not really. Marcus rang me earlier. He will be home sometime next week, and this time it is for good. He was finally given his release papers today. It's over, Emily. It's really over at last!'

‘That's wonderful.' Emily's pleasure lit up her voice. ‘I mean, I know that the war was officially over some months ago, but it is taking ages for some of the men to be demobbed. Vane has been doing his best to help get things moving for some of the families around here. He has been stuck in meetings for weeks – but none of that matters. You must be so thrilled, Frances?'

‘Yes, I am,' Frances said. ‘We've been married for nearly six years but it seems as though we've spent only a few weeks together.'

‘Yes, I know. I often wonder to myself where the past few years have gone. Before the war we were all at home and Father was alive. So much has happened to us all. I know it has been hard for you with your husband away in the RAF, Frances, but you have your son. How is little Charles by the way?'

‘Very well. Naughty but beautiful,' Frances said, laughter in her voice. ‘How is the Vane heir?'

‘Robert is fine,' Emily said. ‘Amelia and Vane are always fussing over him, which is good in one way because I have my work at the convalescent home. If he so much as whimpers Amelia has him out of his nursery and on her knee. I tell her she is spoiling him and so does Nanny, but she won't listen. She says he needs a little fuss. I believe she thinks I am a bad mother.'

‘No, of course you're not,' Frances said at once. Emily had had a rough time one way and the other, losing both her husband and the man she loved to the war. ‘I expect you are busy a lot of the time . . .' She hesitated, then: ‘Will you be closing the convalescent home now that the war is over?'

‘I shouldn't think so. Not for the foreseeable future anyway. We are still having men referred to us. Some of them are so badly injured that they may never go home . . . in fact quite a few don't have homes to go to anymore. Either they lost them and their families during the Blitz or . . . some people don't want them back. Some don't even get visitors. Their wives never come near because they can't bear to look at their injuries.'

‘Oh, that's awful . . .' Frances felt close to tears at the thought of all those ruined lives. ‘You are so good with them, Emily, and you enjoy it – don't you? Does it make up for . . . other things?' Frances couldn't bring herself to say the words. Emily had discovered that her husband had a male lover and that her marriage had been nothing but a sham. Simon had married to give his father the heir he wanted for the Vane estate, but after being badly burned in a plane crash, he had been on the verge of going to America with his lover for treatment when he had a sudden relapse and died.

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