Promise Of Passion

Caroline let out a ragged moan and raked her hair from her forehead. This was all she needed. Her mother had been out at one of her community meetings the night before and Caroline hadn’t had a chance to tell her about her new commission and her appointment this morning. There was no nursery school this morning and her mother’s not feeling well meant she wouldn’t be able to look after Martha.

‘Ah, here it is.’ She slid the card from the sideboard and tucked it into her jeans pocket. ‘Martha, sweetheart, get your books and your paper and pens. We’re going out.’

‘Out!’ Martha cried with excitement as if she’d never been out in her life and she tore into the hall and upstairs, making enough noise to wake the devil.

Caroline groaned, wondering if she had made the right decision—a snap decision to take Martha with her. But what choice did she have? Phone and cancel for one, she told herself as she went across the hall to her mother’s bedroom. But she might lose the job altogether if she did and she might lose it anyway if she turned up with Martha. Well, she’d have to take a chance on that, possibly leave Martha in the car while she did her preliminary sketches. That was all she’d be able to do this morning anyway.

Her mother was sitting up in bed when Caroline went in. She knew what was wrong with her and it wasn’t physical. Caroline knew she would have to be strong for her again.

Phoebe Maxwell was still a lovely lady but the tragedies in her life seemed to have shrunk her over the years. She sat pale and pinched in her bed, surrounded by old photos, her eyes red and watery with crying.

Caroline sat down on the edge of the bed and took her mother’s long, artistic fingers in her own.

‘Bad day?’ she murmured softly.

Phoebe nodded and let out a loud sigh. ‘It catches me up now and then,’ she whispered weakly.

‘I know,’ Caroline said quietly, squeezing her mother’s fingers.

The loss of Josie caught Caroline up too, so badly at times that she wondered how she ever coped with being strong for her mother. It had got better recently but something had set her mother back again; Caroline didn’t ask what. Sometimes it was the smallest thing—a smell, a piece of music, the sight of someone in the distance which reminded her of Josie. Caroline felt anger coupled with her grief at times for what her older sister had done to her mother’s life-given her more heartache than any mother deserved. She’d left home at seventeen, travelled to France with a fringe theatre company, at eighteen married a French actor, at nineteen left him. Three years later she had returned to Cornwall, pregnant, refusing to name the father, not in the least bit repentant for the anxiety she had caused her mother. Two months after Martha was born she’d taken off again, leaving the baby with her mother in Cornwall. Two months after that poor Josie died of meningitis in a clinic in the south of France.

But how could Caroline feel such anger for long? What had propelled her sister on that tragic path of self-destruction? The loss of their dear father whom Josie had adored? No one knew because Josie had always held so much back from them.

‘I’m going out for the morning,’ Caroline told her quietly, straightening the sheets. ‘You rest and I’ll bring something nice in for lunch.’

‘Don’t go,’ Phoebe pleaded, eyes swimming with unshed tears. ‘You might not come back and——’

‘Mum, please don’t,’ Caroline croaked, trying to sound firm but not being very successful. ‘Nothing will happen to me or Martha.’ She understood her mother’s insecurity, the fear she felt when she was as low as this. ‘I’m not Josie, Mum.’

‘I know, darling. You always were the good, strong one. I don’t know how I would have coped without you and Martha.’

Caroline kissed her mother lightly on the cheek. ‘Rest now and we’ll be back soon.’

She closed the bedroom door on her mother and closed her eyes briefly. Sometimes she wasn’t the good, strong one; sometimes she wanted what Josie had had—some excitement in her life, some love of some sort, however ephemeral. But look where that sort of life had led her sister. Caroline couldn’t be that way because she wasn’t born that way but sometimes…only sometimes…

She gave herself a mental shake as she bundled Martha into the back of her Escort, strapping her in and making sure she was secure. She had more than most, was more fortunate than most. Ellis Frazer had said that. Yes, she was very fortunate, in spite of her loneliness at times. And maybe one day she would meet a prince for Martha. Maybe.

She found his home easily enough, though it was in a part of the countryside she wasn’t too familiar with, the lanes deep and narrow. Ellis Frazer was waiting for her when she drew up outside Treverva Manor. Pacing, Caroline noted as she glanced at the dashboard clock. She was only twenty minutes late but late none the less.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she blurted as she leapt out of the driving seat, dragging her fingers through her hair, drawing it back from her face. ‘Something cropped up and——’

He stood powerful in front of her in riding gear—second-skin jodhpurs and black roll-necked sweater, a riding crop thrumming impatiently against his left thigh. No eyes for her, though. They were riveted on Martha, squirming out of her seatbelt in the back of the car, and he wasn’t looking pleased.

‘I had to bring Martha,’she went on in explanation. ‘My mother isn’t well this morning and I was running late and couldn’t make alternative arrangements. I know I should have phoned but didn’t think this morning would matter. I’ll only be able to do the preliminary sketches anyway and ‘

‘You have horses!’ Martha cried, jumping out of the car and glancing excitedly up and down Ellis Frazer, astutely taking in his riding gear and coming to the conclusion that her four-legged favourites were somewhere in close proximity.

Ellis Frazer’s eyes widened in surprise at the intelligence of the child. Caroline silently blessed Martha for diverting his obvious anger for her lateness away from her.

‘Yes, I do have horses. Are you old enough to ride?’

Martha gave Caroline a hesitant look and then made her own decision, which was so like her. She beamed up at him innocently.

‘Yes, but it’s a secret. Mummy takes me riding every week but we mustn’t tell Nanny. Nanny wouldn’t like it.’

Ellis Frazer raised a questioning brow at Caroline who could feel herself blushing with the effect of trying to think how to explain that.

‘Grandmothers can be over-protective,’ Caroline offered, which was very true in Phoebe’s case. She doted on the child but lived in fear that she too would be snatched from her.

‘And the mother isn’t?’ Ellis said, as if questioning her abilities as a mother.

‘At certain times, yes. Martha has an aptitude for riding and under the right sort of supervision I see no point in denying her something which gives her enormous pleasure.’

‘But you allow a certain deception where her grandmother is concerned. Is that healthy for the child?’ His tone was mildly accusing.

Caroline tensed against it. Just who did he think he was?

‘I do what I do to ensure a quiet life for all concerned, Mr Frazer. Martha understands that her grandmother has to be handled with care at times and if a small deception makes for a stress-free life for an older person I see nothing wrong in that.’

Ellis Frazer nodded silently as if he understood. The conversation was way over the top of Martha’s head so Caroline felt no guilt for what she had just told him; besides, Martha wasn’t listening, just fidgeting and gazing around her, her wide eyes searching for any suggestion of a horse.

‘Would you like to see my horses?’ Ellis asked Martha unexpectedly. A suggestion that took Caroline by surprise, but was it surprising? She remembered his frail mother who wasn’t used to small children. He obviously wanted Martha out of the way while he introduced Caroline to her.

‘That isn’t necessary,’ Caroline said quickly. ‘Martha brought books and she can wait in the car if you——’

A wail of indignation from Martha stopped her in mid-sentence. ‘I don’t want to stay in the car. I want to see the horses!’

Caroline could happily have throttled her. Ellis Frazer gave Caroline a sidelong glance and then, to her surprise, smiled at her. ‘I see no point in denying her something which gives her enormous pleasure,’ he echoed Caroline’s words, almost triumphantly, as if he had caught her out.

Heat rose to Caroline’s face and Martha gave a skip of delight. Caroline wished she were anywhere else but here.

‘Excuse me for a minute,’ Ellis Frazer said, and strode away, leaving Caroline and Martha standing on the gravel drive staring after him.

‘Perhaps he has a pony I can ride,’ Martha enthused, slipping a warm hand, trembling with excitement and anticipation, into Caroline’s.

‘Not without a hat, Martha,’ she told her, squeezing her hand.

‘Perhaps he has hats too, like the riding school. Does he have children?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Caroline murmured; in fact she’d bet her life savings he had no one warm and cuddly in his life. He looked and sounded the sort who got more pleasure out of thrashing a wild stallion around the countryside than bouncing a child on his knee.

He was back almost immediately, with a young girl groom in tow, and Caroline could hear the instructions he was rapping out to her as they approached across the gravel.

‘Keep her away from Blaize. Show her the foals and Misty and on no account let her mount any of them. Watch her like a hawk and keep her away from the house.’

Caroline felt her blood run cold and prayed Martha didn’t pick up on the hostility in his tone. But Martha was so excited that she wouldn’t even have noticed if a thunderbolt landed at her feet. She skipped happily away with Karen, the young groom, who was giving little Martha a wide grin of welcome which made Caroline feel a whole lot better. She reached into the car for her bag with her sketching gear and locked the car after her, which didn’t go unnoticed by the glaring Frazer. He obviously thought it an insult to his hospitality.

‘Force of habit,’ she returned to that look of disapproval.