Promise Made (24 page)

‘That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! Of course you're not a bad woman, Fran. You loved Charlie.'

‘I loved him so much,' Frances said, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks. ‘I wish I were dead. There's nothing left for me now, Emily. Nothing at all to live for . . .'

‘You mustn't think like that,' Emily said, a cold trickle of ice at her nape. She shivered, because the despair in Frances's eyes was so awful to see, and there were no words of comfort she could offer. She had been expecting Robert when she was told of Terry's death. After a while it had brought her back from the brink. ‘You have to try, Fran. You have to want to live for your own sake. I know the pain is unbearable now, but it will get better in time.'

‘Will it?' Frances looked at her with empty eyes. ‘I don't think I care enough to bother. I just want to die . . .'

Emily made coffee and put the cup in front of her sister. ‘Do you have an aspirin or anything to take for the headache?'

‘No, I never use them.' Frances said. ‘I've never suffered with headaches in the past . . . it will go I expect.'

‘Yes, it will pass – and you will start to feel better one day,' Emily said. ‘Please change your mind and come with me, Fran. I know you would feel better if you stayed with me.'

‘It just makes it worse when you come back to an empty house,' Frances said, picking up the cup and taking a sip of the strong coffee. ‘And I had Charlie then . . . it just seems as if there is no point, Emily. I wish I were dead. There's nothing to live for now.'

‘So you want Sam to win, do you?' Emily demanded, angry with her now. ‘For goodness sake stop this, Frances, or you will be really ill.'

Frances shrugged. Emily wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her, but she could see that nothing she could say would change the way her sister was feeling.

‘I'm going to leave you now,' Emily said. ‘But when you snap out of this I want you to get on a train and come to me. If Sam hasn't paid you what he owes you, we'll get a lawyer to sort him out – but the main thing is for you to leave this place. You need to begin a new life, Fran, and you're not going to do it here.'

Frances stood up. She leaned forward and kissed Emily on the cheek. ‘I know you are trying to help me and I'm grateful. I am truly, but at the moment I don't feel like thinking about the future. I can't think because it hurts too much – that's why I've been drinking, to numb the pain. I know it is stupid and I don't want to be like Marcus. I'll stop soon, but not just yet.'

‘I care about you,' Emily said. ‘Daniel and Alice care too, even if Dan did wonder why you hadn't taken Charlie to the doctor sooner – he really does, Frances so don't pull a face. Your family knows you weren't to blame – and you have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to Charlie.'

‘Perhaps.' Frances gave her a fleeting smile. ‘You go, Emily. You have your son and a life waiting for you – and you can't help me. Not yet. One day I may ask for help, but that isn't today.'

‘All right,' Emily said. ‘I'll go but I am always there ready to help you, love. Remember that if you need me.'

‘Yes, all right,' Frances said. She made an effort to seem cheerful as she went to the door with her sister. ‘Thank you for coming – and I'll ring you when I feel better.'

Closing the door and locking it, Frances went back to the kitchen and sat down at the table. She looked at the coffee her sister had made her, and then got up and poured it down the sink. She stared out at the garden for a moment, and then went to the dresser and took out her last bottle of sherry. She also took a packet of aspirin from the dresser drawer. Muriel had left it there, because she often got what she called water wheels in her head.

Frances took the pills and the sherry to the table and sat down looking at them for a minute or two. She squeezed out all the pills, of which there were ten. Was that enough? It was all she had so they would have to do. She had no idea how many it would take to kill her, but she put them all in her mouth and took a long swig of the sherry to swallow them with. After that she drank some more sherry, and then some more. By the time the bottle was half-empty she was feeling sleepy. She slumped forward on her arms at the table and fell into a deep slumber.

‘She must have done it shortly after you left her,' Daniel said when he telephoned Emily the following morning. ‘Muriel went up there to see if she needed her and found her unconscious. They rushed her into the hospital and they tell me she is recovering. She probably didn't take enough aspirin to kill her, but the packet was empty. It couldn't have been a full one.'

‘She told me she never took them,' Emily said, feeling her throat constrict with emotion. ‘I don't think I can come back for a few days. We have so much going on here for Christmas. I must spend some time with Vane and Robert. Will you get Frances some flowers from me? I'll send her a card – and get down as soon as I can to see her.'

‘Alice says she wants her to come here for a while, but I don't know if she will. I think she would be better off getting right away from the village. You can imagine the kind of tales that are flying around at the moment.'

‘Yes, I can – and I imagine I know where they started too.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Sam hates her, because he tried it on a few times and she told him to get lost. And she blackmailed him for twice what that property she had a share in was worth.'

‘Blackmail? That would make him furious, but I don't know what you mean? He wouldn't have tried anything with his son's wife, surely? Sam is a bit of a tough case but he isn't that bad.'

‘You don't really know him, Dan. Frances told me what he does at that London property. It knocked Marcus for six when he discovered that his father was running brothels and perhaps worse for all we know. Frances believes that's why he started drinking so heavily.'

‘I can't believe this,' Daniel said. ‘I've know Sam Danby for years. I would have said he was a hard man in business, but fair.'

‘Maybe he is when he is in Stretton. He likes to play the big man, the councillor with village affairs at heart – but underneath he is rotten, Dan. About as rotten as they come, and I think he is Frances's enemy. I've told her to be careful of him, but she doesn't seem to care at the moment.'

‘I am finding this difficult to believe,' Daniel said. ‘I don't doubt that Frances told you these things – but how could she know? Did Marcus tell her?'

‘I think she went to the apartment block in London and spoke to one of the girls there. Apparently, she thought Frances was looking for a job – or a room to ply her trade.'

‘Good grief,' Daniel said. ‘The sly old dog! No one here knows anything about any of this, Emily.'

‘No, well, they wouldn't,' Emily replied. ‘You wouldn't expect him to broadcast it locally, would you?'

‘No . . .' Daniel was thoughtful. ‘I still can't quite believe it – but if it is true, Frances should be careful. Sam wouldn't take kindly to blackmail about a thing like that . . .'

‘That is what I told her, but she didn't seem to care.'

‘Well, she is in hospital for the moment. We must hope she is feeling better by the time they let her out. I suppose she could be in trouble for trying to commit suicide – it isn't exactly sensible behaviour, is it?'

‘They might decide to keep her under supervision for a while, until she stops feeling suicidal,' Emily said. ‘Poor Frances. I knew she was desperate, but I didn't think she would do something like this.'

‘No, well, I shall take Alice to see her in a day or so and we'll see how she is then.'

‘You will let me know?'

‘Yes, of course,' Daniel said. ‘I had better go now, because we are having an early lunch. We have some last-minute shopping to do for Danny. Oh, and Happy Christmas, Emily.'

‘Happy Christmas to you, Alice and Danny. Give Frances my love when you see her.'

‘Yes, of course.'

Daniel turned as Alice came to call him to the table. He was surprised and slightly disbelieving over Emily's revelations concerning Sam Danby. It might be true, but it just might be a mistake on Frances's part. He wasn't convinced himself, but of course you never could tell . . .

‘You are worried about your sister,' Vane said, coming to stand by Emily's side as she stood near the window that evening. It was Christmas Eve and a huge tree stood at one end of the long room, decorated with glass balls and candles, a pile of gifts surrounding its base. Behind them the laughter and chatter was evidence that the party was a success. ‘I am sure she will be all right, my dear. The hospital will look after her.'

‘Yes, of course,' Emily said and smiled at him. ‘I just keep thinking that it is Christmas and she is in hospital and all alone . . .'

‘She has her family to care for her,' Vane said. ‘You should ask her to come here, Emily. You know we have plenty of room and she would be very welcome.'

‘Thank you,' Emily said. ‘You are always so generous.' She touched the choker of lustrous pink pearls at her throat. ‘I wanted to thank you for my gift, Vane. They are lovely. I shall always treasure them.'

‘I wanted to give you something special this year,' Vane said. ‘I am glad you like them, my dear – but you haven't got a drink. May I pour you something?'

‘Just lemonade, thank you,' Emily said. ‘I need to be up early in the morning. We have a big day at the home tomorrow. Some of the patients who left us are coming for a reunion dinner with their relatives. It should be very pleasant.'

‘You know that I would be willing to stand in for you if you wanted to go to your sister?'

‘It wouldn't be fair because everyone is expecting me to be there,' Emily said. ‘Besides, I want to be here when Robert opens his presents in the morning. He would be upset if I wasn't here. No, I am sure you're right. Frances will be well cared for in hospital and I shall go down and see her as soon as Christmas is over . . .'

Frances half opened her eyes to look at the three men standing by her hospital bed. She was feeling drowsy and not at all well, her mind still hazy after the effects of her attempt to end it all. She wasn't sure how long she had been in hospital, though she thought it must have been a few days. She vaguely remembered the nurses singing carols, but that seemed a long time ago.

‘Mrs Frances Danby,' one of the men said to her. ‘We would like to talk to you for a moment. Are you feeling well enough to answer some questions?'

Frances nodded. She didn't want to talk to anyone, especially doctors, but if she said yes to whatever they wanted to know perhaps they would go away and leave her alone.

‘Yes . . .' she whispered.

‘Why did you try to kill yourself, Mrs Danby? Was it because you felt guilty because of your son's death?'

‘Yes . . .' Frances answered without really understanding the question. ‘Charlie is dead . . . don't want to live . . . nothing to live for . . .'

‘Do you feel responsible for his death?'

‘Yes . . .' Tears trickled down Frances's cheeks. ‘My baby . . . too late . . . too late . . .'

‘She neglected him and then tried to kill herself because she knew it was her fault,' a voice she dimly recognized as Sam Danby's said harshly. ‘What more do you need? She murdered my grandson and then tried to escape just retribution. She knew I would have the police look into the matter.'

‘That isn't quite what she is saying,' another voice objected. ‘I think she is still too ill to know what is happening – or what she is saying.'

‘No, Dr Renton,' the first voice said. ‘I agree with Mr Danby. She probably neglected her son because she was under strain after the death of her husband. And she tried to kill herself while the balance of her mind was disturbed. I think she would benefit from a period of incarceration in a mental institution. We should both sign the order, Dr Renton.'

‘I'm not sure, sir,' the younger man said. ‘This isn't a proper examination. We ought to do more tests . . . speak to her when she is fully conscious.'

‘I daresay you have not experienced too many cases of severe melancholia before, Dr Renton. By virtue of my superior experience in these cases I must tell you that without the proper treatment Mrs Frances Danby will remain a danger not only to herself but also to others.'

‘Yes, well, if you say so . . .' The younger man looked unhappy as he signed the paper thrust in front of him. ‘But she should only be there for a temporary period. She looks ill and sad to me rather than dangerous.'

‘Yes, well, she will be under my care,' the first voice said. ‘I shall do my best to help Mrs Danby recover her spirits – and when I consider that she is fit to be released I shall arrange it.'

The voices drifted away, becoming fainter until they ceased altogether. Frances opened her eyes and looked at the one man who remained by her bedside. The other two had gone now and she wasn't sure what they had wanted from her, but at least they had left her in peace. She looked at the man still standing by her bed, recognition that it was Sam Danby coming through the mists at last. She jerked up in bed as if suddenly aware of danger.

‘What have you done?' she asked, coldness spreading through her. ‘Who were those men? Why did you bring them here?'

‘They have just committed you to a mental hospital, where you belong,' Sam said, a cruel sneer on his mouth. ‘No one will believe your stories now, Frannie. You're mad . . . a victim of melancholia. That's why you neglected your son and then tried to kill yourself.'

‘No! I didn't harm Charlie and I'm not mad.' Frances was filled with sudden terror and tried to sit up. ‘I'm going home. You can't do this to me. I'll tell Rosalind and . . .'