Winners and Losers (31 page)

‘Mum, are you home?' Sarah called. She checked the message pad beside the phone and found nothing, then turned towards the kitchen. There was no sign of anything cooking – no plate in the oven. She opened the refrigerator and saw some pork chops in a dish. Sarah frowned. It wasn't like her mother not to cook a meal, but perhaps she had gone out. She filled the kettle and put it on the gas hob, then took butter and bread and a pot of salmon paste from the cupboard. She would make herself a sandwich and a cup of tea. In the meantime, she would go up and change into her jeans and a jumper. She didn't want to be wearing this formal suit when Connor arrived.

She went into her bedroom and changed her clothes, then paid a visit to the bathroom. The kettle had begun to whistle. Sarah was about to go down when something made her look at her mother's room. The door was slightly open. A shiver went down Sarah's spine and she moved towards it, opening the door. Her mother was lying on top of the covers. An empty whisky bottle had fallen on to the floor, and as Sarah moved cautiously forward, she saw that a bottle of sleeping pills lay on the cover next to her mother's hand.

‘Mum!' she cried. ‘Mum – what have you done?'

She touched her mother's hand and gasped because she was cold. She shook her mother's shoulder, refusing to believe what her eyes were telling her. ‘Mum! Wake up. Please wake up!'

Her mother's arm flopped limply. She couldn't wake up: she was dead. She had taken the whole bottle of pills and drunk a bottle of whisky. There was no doubt that she had wanted to kill herself.

‘Oh, Mum, why did you do it?' A little sob escaped from Sarah. She hadn't realized how desperately unhappy her mother had been. Remembering their quarrel at the hotel, she felt awful. Had she contributed to her mother's desperation? ‘Mum, you didn't have to do this!'

Tears stung her eyes. She bent down and kissed her mother's cold cheek, then went downstairs. She couldn't cope with this on her own. She would have to telephone her father. He had to come home and sort out this mess. She couldn't bear this alone.

Connor pulled up three doors away from Sarah's home. He couldn't get any closer because there was a police car and her father's Jaguar parked outside the front door. He frowned as he got out, because there was obviously something going on. Please God, don't let it be Sarah! He could take anything but that . . .

He rang the bell and a moment later the door flew open. Sarah had been crying. Her nose was red and her cheeks were wet. She gave a strangled cry and threw herself at him, sobbing as he gathered her close.

‘What's wrong, darling?' he asked. ‘Why are the police here?'

‘It's Mum,' Sarah gulped. ‘She killed herself with sleeping tablets and whisky!'

‘She what?' Connor stared at her as she drew back. ‘Why on earth did she do a thing like that?'

‘She was miserable. She and Dad were going to get a divorce. He had already moved out, though no one knew about it yet. He was going to come back sometimes until the wedding . . .' She stopped and looked at him. ‘Will you still want to marry me?'

‘Of course I shall! Why wouldn't I?' He looked beyond her as her father came down the stairs. ‘This is an awkward time for you, sir. If I'm in the way . . .'

‘You're as good as family now,' Mr Jenkins said. ‘I would be grateful if you could take Sarah off somewhere for an hour or two. I shall be here when you get back, Sarah. I know you haven't eaten. Get some fish and chips and eat them if you can. We'll talk about this later.'

‘Are you sure? The police won't need me?'

‘You mean you found her?' Connor asked. Sarah nodded. He looked grim. ‘They can talk to you another day if they need you. Your father will manage and we'll talk to him later.' He took her hand. ‘I've got some good news for you, though it isn't important now.'

‘Of course it is,' Sarah said, taking her jacket from the peg in the hall. ‘I saw the apology in the paper. Janice bought it and she showed me. We went for coffee. If I had come home sooner . . .' She broke off on a little sob.

‘She had been dead for hours,' Mr Jenkins said. ‘It isn't your fault, Sarah. It is no one's fault but her own.'

‘Your father is right,' Connor said as he took her outside. ‘She didn't have to do it, Sarah – even if she was miserable. She could have thought of you.'

‘I think she blamed me for Dad leaving her,' Sarah said. ‘Because I grew up and he wouldn't pretend any more.'

‘There's more to this, isn't there?'

‘Yes, quite a bit.'

‘Do you want to go for a coffee or get some fish and chips?'

‘Could we go for a walk – by the river? I just want to talk.'

‘Of course we can. We can do anything you want, Sarah.' Connor bent his head and kissed her softly. ‘We'll walk and talk. I've got things to tell you, too.'

Dan was sitting at the kitchen table eating his supper when someone knocked at the door. He frowned because it was almost dark and they seldom had visitors late at night. He put out his hand when Alice started to get up.

‘You stay where you are, love. I'll answer that.' He went to the front door, turning the key. They never locked the back door but seldom opened the front. A tall, thickset man was standing with his back to the door, but he turned as Daniel spoke.

‘Can I help you?'

‘I'm Paddy O'Brien,' the man said. ‘I've come about Maura's son. They told me he was staying with you.' His dark brows met in a frown. ‘They said you were his father – but you're not the man she married.'

‘No. It wasn't like that,' Daniel said. ‘Do you want to come in? David is in bed at the moment . . .'

‘I haven't come to take him,' Paddy O'Brien said. ‘I wanted to know about the funeral. Someone said it is tomorrow at the Catholic church in Ely. What time would that be?'

‘It's eleven o'clock. I haven't arranged anything for afterwards. I didn't know who to ask and I wasn't sure her family would come.' Daniel led the way into the kitchen. ‘This is my wife, Alice. I was just finishing my supper. I work late most evenings.'

‘I'm sorry to intrude.'

‘Sit down and have a cup of tea,' Alice said. ‘Finish your supper, Dan. Mr O'Brien has time for a cup of tea.'

‘Yes, I have, thank you kindly, ma'am,' he said. ‘I should have been here before, but I was at another funeral yesterday – Mrs O'Brien was laid to rest, so she was, and we had a fine wake for her, too.'

‘Your wife? I am so sorry.'

‘I'm a single man, ma'am. Mrs O'Brien was my mother, so she was, God rest her soul.'

‘David's grandmother is dead?' Alice stared at him as she filled the big brown pot with boiling water. ‘How dreadful for you – to come from one funeral to another. I am so sorry.'

‘I shall miss Mam and that's the truth. She was a good woman despite the tongue on her – but it will be a struggle without her. I'm busy on the land from dusk to dawn. You'll know that yourselves, being farmers.'

‘Yes, of course. You don't have anyone else?'

‘Nary a soul,' he said. ‘Mam wouldn't have taken to another woman in her kitchen. I'm not much given to courting . . .' He took the cup Alice pushed towards him and helped himself from the sugar pot she offered. ‘Do you see my problem? If Mam had been alive, I'd have taken the boy like a shot, but . . .' He shook his head. ‘I just don't see how I can manage to look after Maura's lad.'

‘He is going to be upset,' Daniel said and pushed his plate away; the food no longer held any appeal. ‘He wanted to come and live with his grandma and his uncle.'

‘Mam would have had him, so she would, but it wouldn't be right. In a year or two when he can work for his keep . . .'

‘He is a child,' Alice said sharply. ‘He needs love and care. Besides, he wants to be a mechanic like Dan when he grows up.'

‘They were going to put him in a home,' Daniel said and got up, going to the foot of the stairs to listen. ‘I wouldn't want any of the boys to hear this . . .'

‘Mayhap he would be better off in a home – better than with me anyway.'

‘No! I've listened to that boy sobbing when he thinks no one can hear him. He's missing his mother and he'll be devastated if he has to go into a home.'

‘Alice.' Daniel looked at her. ‘Are you sure about this?'

‘Yes.' Her eyes met his. ‘He is your son, Dan. I can't see him go into care. I haven't said anything, because I thought his grandmother would take him, but now it's settled – we're keeping him.'

‘Yes, we are,' Dan said and put his arm about her shoulders. ‘I'll be asking you to put it into writing, sir. You're giving him up to us, agreed?'

‘He'll be better off with you,' Paddy O'Brien said. ‘I'll see you after the funeral and I'll come back later to tell David that his granny's dead. I've got something for him. She wanted him to have his grandfather's gold watch and chain.'

‘What about the shop?' Daniel asked. ‘Maura put some money into a business in Ely. I think David should get anything that is coming from it, but you're her nearest relative, other than her son – and her husband, wherever he is . . .'

‘I'll not be making a claim. I agree that it should be David's. Talk to the lawyers yourself.' He stood up and offered his hand. ‘I'll get off. It's a bit of a walk back and I've a bus to catch.'

‘I'll run you into Ely myself,' Daniel said. ‘I think we should talk some more.' He turned to look at Alice. ‘I'll see you later, love.'

‘Do what you have to do,' Alice said. ‘I'll be here when you get back.'

‘Feeling better?' Connor pulled Sarah close to his side, his arm around her waist. ‘I suppose we ought to go back. The police will have gone by now and your father will be waiting.'

‘I suppose we have to,' Sarah said. She glanced towards the river, which was dark and cold. They had walked for a while and then climbed into the back of Connor's car to get warm. He had kissed her and held her, and her feeling of horror had gradually faded. ‘I'm not sure I can stay in that house any more.'

‘You don't have to. You can collect some of your things when we've talked to your father and then leave. We'll take a couple of rooms at a hotel somewhere. I would take you to Alice, but it's late. Tomorrow we'll visit Dan and Alice – and then we'll go to Emily.'

‘What about the funeral?'

‘It will probably be a week or two before the police allow it,' Connor said. ‘We can come back for it. Your father will let us know.'

‘Why did she do it?' Sarah wailed. ‘Surely she wasn't so unhappy . . .'

‘Don't cry any more, darling. You can't bring her back – and perhaps she is better off where she is.' Sarah just stared at him. ‘She would have been lonely when you left home.'

‘Yes, she would.' Sarah blew her nose on the handkerchief he gave her. ‘She wanted us to break up because she knew Dad would leave her once I was married.'

‘She wasn't thinking straight,' Connor said. ‘People say things they don't mean when they're upset. She must have loved you, Sarah. Think about the good times and forget the rest.'

‘You're so good to me,' Sarah said and nestled up to him. ‘I was mean to you last time you were home.'

‘You were upset and I got angry,' Connor said. ‘It won't happen again, because we know each other better now. We had best go now or your father will get annoyed.'

‘Are you absolutely certain you are prepared to take on another lad?' Daniel said when he got back that evening. ‘It is going to make more work for you again.'

‘I know that – and I know it means we'll need a bigger house when we move,' Alice said. ‘I don't mind stopping here for a while until you get the garage running properly.'

‘There's no need for that,' Daniel said. ‘Connor doesn't need those fields on Stretton Road. I can sell those as well as this house and we'll be able to afford a decent place in the village. It won't be quite yet, because I am going to have it built. There is plenty of room at the back of the garage. You'll have a separate entrance but it will be just like it is here – I can pop in for a cup of tea whenever I feel like it.'

‘Oh, Dan.' Alice gave an emotional laugh. ‘You and your cups of tea! Are you going to tell David – or am I?'

‘I'll do it in the morning,' he said. ‘I'm going to have to tell Danny the truth, Alice. He's old enough to understand, and if David lets the truth out accidentally, it could cause trouble.'

‘Yes, I know you're right. If David had gone away to Ireland, it wouldn't have mattered, but now that he is going to be a part of the family they should know they are brothers.'

‘Half-brothers,' Daniel corrected, his expression thoughtful. ‘There's not many women would have done what you have, Alice. People are bound to talk.'

‘I minded that at the start,' she admitted. ‘But it doesn't matter any more, Dan. We are a family and that's the way we'll be – and let the gossips get on with it. I'll tell my parents. They may give you some odd looks. You know my mother – but she won't say much when I tell her it was my idea.'

‘She can say what she likes to me,' Daniel said. ‘But I hope she will accept the boy. He has lost the only two people in the world who cared for him.'

‘Well, he has a new family now. It may take a while for him to settle in, but we shall all have some adjustments to make. David will have to share a room with Danny when Connor comes to stay . . .'

‘Did I tell you I picked up an evening paper in Ely? It was just lying around when I filled up with petrol at the garage. Someone had abandoned it – but there was an apology on the front page. Connor has been cleared of that rape.'