Sinners and Shadows (49 page)

The bedrooms had also been stripped of furniture and Harry's footsteps echoed over the floorboards as he walked around the old nursery. He gazed at the seven columns of lines drawn on to the wall next to the fireplace. Each was topped by a name and inscribed with ages and dates in keeping with the family tradition of measuring every child on his or her birthday. All his half-sisters' and -brother's marks started with age one, his with age six, marked by his mother the year they had moved into the house. He fingered his topmost line, his age, twenty-one, his height neatly inscribed in Lloyd's careful writing beside it – 6 ft 2 in.

He stared at the unpolished square of boards, where a rug had been, and recalled the times he had sat, ostensibly reading on the window seat, while secretly watching his sisters hold dolls' tea parties under Bella's bossy tutelage. The scorch marks that marred the tiles of fairy scenes around the fireplace brought back memories of a traumatic Christmas Eve when Edyth had thrown lamp oil onto a sluggish fire and set the chimney ablaze. But that was Edyth; her well-meaning attempts to be helpful invariably ended in catastrophe.

Harry went to the bay, knelt on the window seat and ran his fingers over the names inexpertly carved there. Mansel James, the father he had never known because he had been murdered before his mother even knew she was pregnant. Edyth James had created the nursery for Mansel – her husband's nephew – when he had been orphaned. And, knowing that he was Mansel's illegitimate child, she had bequeathed her estate to him, to be held in trust until his thirtieth birthday. He had chiselled his own name with his penknife below Mansel's. He remembered doing it shortly after his mother and Lloyd had told him about his birth father and his inheritance.

The photographs that remained of Mansel were identical to those of himself. Mansel had also been tall, slim and fine-featured with slender hands, blond hair and blue eyes. And his mother had once mentioned that Mansel had wanted to be an artist. But, unlike him, Mansel had willingly given up his dreams to run his great-aunt Edyth's businesses.

Was he being selfish in wanting to extend his education beyond the three years he had spent at Oxford by studying art in Paris? He had only read English at the insistence of the trustees, who believed that a degree would prepare him to take control of his affairs. They assumed he wanted nothing more than to make money, which he considered peculiar given that he already had more than one man could reasonably spend in a lifetime.

‘Am I interrupting?' Billy joined him.

‘Not at all, Granddad.' Harry smiled at the old man. ‘I came up to say goodbye to my bedroom but got side-tracked.'

‘It's understandable if you feel miserable. This is the only home you've ever really known.'

‘No, it isn't,' Harry contradicted. ‘I remember moving into your house when Mam was your housekeeper.'

‘You were a scrap of a half-starved boy. The biggest thing about you was your blue eyes.'

‘I was scared to death of you, Uncle Victor, Dad and Uncle Joey. You all seemed so big.'

Billy laughed. ‘You soon came round. I hope it all goes well for you in Paris, Harry.'

‘Thank you for sounding as though you really mean it.'

‘Everyone should have the chance to make their ambition come true.'

‘I know I'm privileged.' Harry was very conscious that if it hadn't been for the trust fund he would have had to go down the pit like so many of the boys he had played with as a child.

‘I'm not having a go at you, just trying to say that it's good to see you doing something you want to. Victor may have been forced out of the pit when management wouldn't take him back after the nineteen-eleven strike, but he should never have gone down there in the first place. He's a born farmer and he loves it. And Joey would never have had the chance to exercise his salesman's charm underground. He's far happier running Gwilym James.'

‘Where I'll be sooner or later.'

‘Only if you want to, Harry,' Billy advised, sensing a hint of bitterness in Harry's pronouncement. ‘Life's too short to waste time doing things you don't want to. Remember that. And now you should rejoin your guests.'

‘And be dragged on to the dance floor again.' Harry made a face.

‘You're determined to be a Harry with a hump today, aren't you?' Billy joked. ‘Since when haven't you liked dancing?'

‘Since I've been surrounded by babies like Alice Reynolds.'

‘Give her a couple of years and she'll be a charming young lady.'

‘Perhaps I'm too impatient to wait.' Harry followed his grandfather to the door. ‘Thanks, Granddad. You've always been there whenever I've needed someone to talk to.'

‘I may have sixteen grandchildren but you're the oldest, and the one I practised on, Harry. You taught me as much as I taught you.'

‘There you are, Harry. We've been looking for you everywhere.' Edyth ran up the stairs when she saw Harry and Billy leaving the nursery. ‘Mari's made a bon voyage cake; it's got a red ribbon round it … Granddad, you all right?'

Harry put his arm around Billy's shoulders when he began to cough, helping him back to the nursery window seat and lowering him on to it. To his alarm, Billy's cough grew sharper and more pronounced, his breathing more laboured. Seeing him fumble in his pocket, Harry produced his own handkerchief.

‘Edyth, run downstairs and get a glass of water.'

His sister stared at them, mesmerized.

‘Edyth!' Harry looked down at his grandfather as his sister backed towards the door. To his horror, bright red blood was pouring from Billy's mouth. He held his handkerchief to Billy's lips. ‘Edyth,' he struggled to keep calm, ‘please, go downstairs. Tell Dad to call a doctor.'

She turned and fled. Seconds later he heard a scream and a series of thuds.

Still coughing blood, Billy tried to rise to his feet. He pushed Harry away from him, then fell back and pointed to the door.

‘I'm going to get help, Granddad.'

Billy nodded weakly and leaned against the window pane.

Harry ran on to the landing. The band had stopped playing. A crowd had gathered around Edyth, who was lying face down at the foot of the stairs. His mother and Lloyd were crouching over her.

‘Dad?' Harry had to call three times before his stepfather looked up. ‘We need an ambulance.'

Lloyd was hoarse with shock. ‘The phone's disconnected. Joey's gone to fetch the doctor in his car.'

Harry's voice rose precariously. ‘It's Granddad. We need an ambulance for Granddad as well.'

The
Brothers & Lovers
series
by
Catrin Collier

  
  

  
  

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