Chapter 11

      SUNDAY-EVENING DINNER with the family had become a regular event. This Sunday was no different, except by the time Vicky had set the table ready for serving, Ronnie had still not shown up. ‘He’s deliberately staying away again, isn’t he?’ She was at her wits’ end. ‘He can’t even bring himself to sit at the table once a week with his own family!’

      Leonard had seen it all before and try as he might, he could not get through to Ronnie. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you know what he’s like. He’ll either turn up or he won’t. Either way there is little we can do. We can’t frog-march him here.’

      Vicky still blamed herself. ‘If only he would talk to you, it might help.’

      ‘No, it wouldn’t.’ Leonard shook his head. ‘I’ve tried to be a father figure, but he’s not having it. I can’t force myself on him, sweetheart. It’s got to come from him.’

      Leonard had kept his promise to Barney. In all this time he had not once betrayed that amazing man. It frightened him that if they ever discovered he had known the truth all along, none of them would forgive him, least of all Vicky. So he remained silent; though there was not a minute in the day when he didn’t feel the weight of that fateful promise he made to Barney.

      There was an element of guilt, too. Through no fault of his own, Barney had lost everything – the family he cherished and his own precious life – while he, Leonard, had gained everything – a new life here in America on his grandfather Farley Kemp’s huge farm, now restored to its former productivity and wealth, and most of all, he had Vicky.

      He observed her now, her slim figure, the pretty hair that was once rich and golden with youth, now plaited back, the telling streaks of grey betraying her age. The handsome features were still strong, and just as he had done since the first moment he saw her, he loved her with every fibre of his being.

      ‘With luck he’ll turn up, there’s still time.’ Vicky set her younger son’s place along with the others. ‘I’d best get back to the kitchen, or the meat will be like charcoal.’ Vicky had not changed from the woman she had been; always happiest when caring for the family.

      ‘I don’t know why you won’t have a cook to do all that for you.’ Leonard had tried in vain to persuade Vicky to have more help in the house. ‘It’s a big place for one woman to run by herself.’

      ‘I don’t run it by myself,’ Vicky reminded him. ‘I have Beth.’

      ‘Yes, but she only comes in twice a week to do the bedrooms. You take care of the rest – polishing and cleaning, cooking and gardening. There’s no end to it!’

      ‘I’m a born housekeeper,’ Vicky told him with a smile. ‘Now, will you please stop nagging, and put the glasses out. The family will be here soon.’ She glanced out the window. ‘Ronnie too, I hope.’

      It was eight-thirty when the family started arriving.

      Thomas was the first, along with his wife. Tall and willowy, with bobbed black hair and dark eyes, Sheila was a stunning beauty, even at the age of forty. Married these sixteen years, she and Thomas lived close by, in a fine house they had designed themselves.

      Unbeknownst to Thomas, who adored the ground she walked on, Sheila had indulged in several affairs, all of them brief and sordid. When the novelty wore off and the fun was over, she would pay off her sexual partners with a wad of money to keep their silence.

      ‘Vicky, how are you?’ Kissing her mother-in-law on the cheek, Sheila made a show of affection. ‘You’re looking wonderful as always.’ She observed Vicky’s long red dress and that ever-slim figure, and though Vicky was far older than her, with her best years behind her, she could not suppress a vicious surge of envy.

      ‘Thank you, Sheila, I do the best with what I’ve got.’ Vicky was always pleasant and friendly, but she had no illusions where her daughter-in-law was concerned. She had long entertained suspicions about the woman’s fidelity, but that’s all they were … suspicions. She so much wanted to believe that Thomas and his wife were truly happy together. Certainly Thomas was, and for that she must be grateful.

      It had been a bitter disappointment that there were no grandchildren on the scene. It was probably too late for Thomas and Sheila, but there was still Ronnie; and though Susie was edging past the child-bearing years, there was time enough for her to become a mother. Having devoted all her time and effort to her business, Susie had yet to find the man she loved, but God willing, he was out there somewhere.

      Like a caged cat looking for an escape route, Sheila glanced about the room, her eyes alighting on Leonard. ‘Oh, there you are, Lenny,’ she gushed. ‘And how are you?’

      Leonard got out of his chair to kiss her fleetingly on the cheek. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Sheila.’

      She traversed her gaze around the room. ‘No Ronnie then?’

      ‘Not yet, no.’ Vicky showed no concern. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.’

      ‘Really?’ Sheila’s sly grin made Vicky clench her fists. ‘You know very well he won’t turn up,’ she gloated. ‘He never does.’

      Thomas stepped in. ‘Sheila! That’s a hurtful thing to say.’

      ‘Maybe, but it’s true. He doesn’t give a damn about anybody but himself, least of all his family.’

      ‘Enough said!’ Stepping forward, Vicky thrust a tea-towel into her hands. ‘The roast potatoes need taking out of the oven. Would you mind, please?’

      The two women stood eyeball to eyeball, the older one smiling calmly and the younger one silently seething, but she knew better than to show her resentment. ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘But I’m surprised you’re so behind with the cooking, Vicky, honey. Normally you have the food all ready for serving.’

      Turning on her heels she went away grumbling. ‘I guess it don’t matter that I’ve just painted my nails, and if the grease spills down my new expensive jacket, who is there to care?’

      Vicky knew her daughter-in-law was goading her, but she did not retaliate. She had more important things on her mind than exchanging verbal blows with the spiteful Sheila. What she really wanted was for Ronnie to show his face. But she was not fooling herself. Sheila was right; he probably would not turn up, more’s the pity.

      A striking figure in a blue pencil skirt with matching bolero and cream-coloured blouse, Susie climbed the three flights of stairs to her brother’s apartment in the heart of Boston. As she climbed, she kept a wary eye about her. This was not the best of neighbourhoods.

      Yet again the elevator was out of order, and on the stairs that wound up the outside of the building, a lone visitor was a prime target for the hopeless bums who frequented this area.

      ‘Ronnie Davidson, you’re a hopeless bugger!’ she muttered as she traipsed upwards. ‘Hiding in your room skulking – I’m fed up with it! You live in a slum, you think the world’s against you, and you abandon your family at the drop of a hat. I won’t have it, d’you hear? You’re still my brother and God help me, I care about you … we all do.’

      Tripping