Hold the Dream by Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘I try, I do try, Shane, but – ’ her voice wavered and stopped. Her eyes filled up.
‘Hey, come on, love,’ he said. ‘No tears. We’ve got to keep moving ahead, and purposefully so. I keep telling you, time is on our side. We’re both young, and we are going to win in the end.’
‘Yes.’ She brushed her eyes with her fingertips, forced a more cheerful expression on to her face. ‘It’s just that – oh Shane, I miss you so much.’
‘I know, I know, and I miss you too. It’s sheer hell being apart. But look here, I would have to go to New York next week, and then on to Sydney for two months, even if your situation was straightened out. There’s no way I can change those circumstances. And it’s not been so bad, has it? We were together in New York for part of January and we’ve managed to grab some time together these past few weeks. So – ’
‘I can’t help feeling that it’s not fair to you. I’m keeping you dangling and – ’
His laughter obliterated her words. ‘I love you, and only you. I’ll wait for you, Paula.’ He hugged her fiercely. ‘What kind of a man do you think I am, you silly, silly girl. None of this is your fault. It’s beyond your control. Life intrudes, that can’t be helped. We’re just going to have to battle it through.’
‘I’m sorry, Shane. I am being mournful today, aren’t I? Perhaps that’s because you’ll be leaving in a few days. I feel so desperately alone when you’re not in England.’
‘But you’re not alone, Paula. You have me, my love and my support – always. I carry you in my heart wherever I go, and you’re never out of my thoughts, not for a single moment. We talk on the telephone practically every day, and if you need me urgently I’ll come to you as fast as I can. You know I’d be on the first plane out, whether I’m in Australia or the States.’ He gazed at her, his black eyes quizzical all of a sudden. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I do.’
‘Remember what I said to you in Barbados?’
‘That I must trust your love for me.’
‘That’s right. As I trust yours for me. Now, are you going to change your mind and come to dinner at Beck House tonight? It’ll do you good, and Emily was so disappointed when you declined her invitation.’
‘Perhaps I will, after all.’ Paula frowned. ‘Do you think she and Winston suspect anything about us?’
‘No. They believe we’ve become good friends again, and that’s all.’
Paula was not entirely convinced he was correct. However she had no wish to implant troublesome ideas in his mind, and she said, ‘I couldn’t get there until eight. I want to go home to see Tessa and Lorne, and then I have to go to the nursing home to see Jim.’
‘I understand.’
‘You really do, don’t you, Shane?’
‘Of course, and I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, Paula. You’re far too good, and too compassionate a woman, to turn your back on Jim at a time like this. You said over lunch that he was a bit better. What’s the general prognosis?’
‘The doctor told me yesterday that he could be out of the nursing home in a few weeks, if he continued to improve the way he has. He’s not as depressed as he was and he’s responding well to treatment, to the psychiatric help.’ She shook her head and her worry flared up in her. ‘But you never know with a nervous breakdown. I mean, some people recover quickly, others take months, and it’s not unusual for a person to have relapses.’ She hesitated, murmured in a low almost inaudible tone, ‘I can’t bring myself to say anything to him just yet – about my freedom.’
‘I’m aware of that, you don’t have to keep repeating yourself,’ Shane said rapidly but with gentleness. ‘We agreed that we must wait until Jim’s back to normal, truly capable of handling things, before you tell him you want a divorce. I’m not reneging on our agreement. What else can we do? I’d like to be able to live with myself in the future, and I know you would, too.’
‘Yes. Oh Shane, thank you, thank you so much for your understanding, and most of all for your love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
He took her in his arms and kissed her, and they sat holding each other for a few minutes. Finally he released her. ‘I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ve a couple of meetings scheduled, and with Dad in London at the international hotel conference I’ve got my hands full. Then I want to stop off and see Grandpops on my way home to Beck House.’
They rose and she walked him to the door. ‘Give my love to Uncle Blackie,’ Paula said, looking up at him. She offered him a brighter smile. ‘I feel much better – now that I’ve seen you.’
Shane touched her face lightly. ‘You’ll be all right, darling, we’ll be all right. Just so long as we stay cool and keep a positive attitude. We mustn’t let anything rattle us or throw us off our course.’
Several hours later, when Shane pushed open the door of the library in his grandfather’s house, he found Blackie standing in front of an antique chest. He had a soft yellow duster in his hand and was carefully rubbing away at the silver trophy which was now his pride and joy.
Shane smiled. If his grandfather polished it once a day, he did so at least half a dozen times. Of all the things Blackie owned it had become his proudest and most treasured possession. At the beginning of April, Blackie’s eight-year-old mare, Emerald Bow, had run at Aintree and had won the Grand National. Winning the greatest steeplechase in the world had been the fulfilment of Blackie’s lifelong dream. Curious though, Shane now thought, that of all the horses he owns it had to be the one Emma gave him which finally won the most coveted prize for him. There has to be something prophetic in that.
Moving forward, Shane said, ‘Hello, Grandpops, sorry I’m late.’
Blackie turned around, his face lighting up. The sight of his handsome strapping grandson warmed his heart. ‘Shane, me boy!’ he cried and ambled across the floor.
The two men embraced. But as his arms went around his grandfather in a bear hug, Shane realized, with a small shock, that Blackie had lost weight since he had last seen him. My God, I can feel his bones through his suit. He’s suddenly become so frail, Shane thought with a spurt of worry mingled with sadness. They drew apart and Shane looked into Blackie’s face, his eyes scanning it swiftly. The weight loss was evident in the sunken cheeks, the scrawny neck. His shirt collar looked too big for him, and Blackie was unnaturally pale tonight. His ebony black eyes were cloudy, seemed to have a milky film.
‘Are you feeling all right, Grandfather?’ Shane asked, his scrutiny fixed on the old man.
‘Never felt better.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ Shane answered, but he reminded himself that his grandfather usually said this. Not wishing to press him further about his health, Shane eyed the cloth in Blackie’s hand. ‘If you’re not careful you’re going to rub a hole in that thing with your constant polishing, and then where will you be?’
Blackie snorted in amusement, followed Shane’s glance, which was directed at the trophy. He lumbered over to the chest where it reposed, his pace as slow as before. Putting the cloth down, he rested his hand on top of the symbol of Emerald Bow’s great triumph.
‘I won’t go so far as to say that winning this was the crowning moment of my life, but it was certainly the most thrilling.’ Blackie nodded to himself. ‘It truly was.’
Shane smiled across the room at his grandfather. ‘And mine, too,’ he asserted.
‘Aye, lad, but you’re going to have greater triumphs in your life than I’ve ever had. That’s in the cards, sure and it is.’ Stepping up to the small console, Blackie picked up a crystal decanter and poured whiskey in two glasses. ‘Let’s drink to that foregone conclusion with a drop of me good Irish.’
Shane joined him, took the tumbler, clinked it against Blackie’s and said, ‘To future triumphs – for us both, Grandpops.’
‘Yes indeed. And to Emerald Bow and next year’s Grand National. You never know, she could win again.’ Blackie shot Shane a knowing look, went over
Shane followed him, struck once more by his grandfather’s slow gait, which was almost a shuffle, and his fragility. Concern mounted in Shane, but he pressed down on it. Perhaps his grandfather was merely tired this evening. Also, the excitement of the Grand National, winning, and all the partying that had ensued might easily have taken its toll. And after all he was an old man, very old now. He was eighty-four years old.
Blackie sat musing to himself for a second or two, gazing into the flames, an abstracted look in his eyes, then he said to his grandson, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget the finish.’ Swinging his head, he leaned forward with a burst of energy and eagerness, his glass clasped tightly between his hands, his eyes shining brightly as he relived the race in his mind’s eye.
He exclaimed excitedly: ‘There they were, Shane, coming to the last fence! Emerald Bow with two other big horses alongside her! Almost neck and neck. Steve Larner, tough little sod that he is, going hell for leather. High in the stirrups, pushing her forward, a grim look on his face. Me heart was in me mouth, aye, it was that, Shane. I thought she wasn’t going to make it. Sure and I believed one of the other two would beat her to it, if only by a hair’s breadth. When Highland Boy went first, sailed up but hit the top of the fence, rolled over and was out of the race, just like that, well, I couldn’t believe me eyes. And then King’s Gold went the same way, catapulting over and landing on his back. I knew he’d taken it too close to the roots of the fence. Me old eyes were glued on Emerald Bow. And only a fraction of a second after the others had fallen, there she was, me valiant little mare, jumping the fence like a gazelle and finishing two hundred yards in front of the field. Aye, Shane, it was the most spectacular finish I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to a hell of a lot of horse races during my long life.’ Blackie’s face was flushed, and he fell back against the chair. He was momentarily breathless, but recovered himself in a matter of moments.
‘I was there, Grandpops. I saw it all, remember.’
Blackie winked at him. ‘Sure you saw it, but I can’t help reliving it with you, lad. It gets the blood flowing through me veins again, and you know your father doesn’t understand how I feel – not really. It’s you, Shane, who had inherited my love of horses, and you’ve got as good an eye as me when it comes to spotting a thoroughbred.’
Blackie paused, and his eyes danced merrily as another thought struck him. ‘Poor Emma, how she suffered that day, in one way and another. Worrying because I was getting overly excited, concerning herself with thoughts of my disappointment if Emerald Bow lost, and she even got hurt in the process. I grabbed hold of her so hard at the finish she was bruised for days, at least so she tells me. Said I’d almost crushed some of her fragile old bones. Still, she did enjoy it, no two ways about that. And she was as excited as I was. As I still am, if the truth be known.’
‘And why not, Grandpops, it was a wonderful victory for you, and so well deserved.’
Blackie sat back, took a sip of his whiskey. His face sobered and he became reflective. After a moment he said, ‘Randolph was always right about Emerald Bow, you know, from the day Emma gave her to me. He never stopped telling me she had the stamina required for the National. It’s a hard race, bloody carnage too, when you consider that out of the forty horses that start, only about eight finish. If that. Thirty fences to jump, and twice over Beecher’s Brook. So many horses are injured, and it’s exhausting for those that last. The stuffing’s knocked out of them by the time they’re coming into the final stretch.’
‘The National’s also a hell of a fast race,’ Shane volunteered. ‘It’s over in about ten minutes.’
‘Aye, it is, it is.’ Blackie peered at Shane. His expression was one of self-congratulation and gratification. ‘The party I threw at the Adelphi Hotel after the race was one of the best ever given, so I’ve been told. It was a grand bash, wasn’t it?’
‘Smashing! And so was the welcome we received when we got back to Middleham on Sunday lunch time. The huge banner congratulating Emerald Bow stretched across the main street, the boys coming out of the pubs when you and Randolph paraded her around the town, and then the luncheon at Allington Hall – memorable, all of it, Grandfather. I was so pleased and proud for you, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’
‘I know you wouldn’t, but still, I admit I was a bit worried when you got bogged down with work in Sydney, early in March. I held my breath, I did indeed. I thought you mightn’t make it and that would have been a severe blow to me, my boy.’ Blackie sighed and a look of true contentment crossed his face. ‘It’s been a wonderful twelve months when I look back now. The trip around the world with me darlin’ Emma, and now this – ’ He broke off, glanced at the trophy, the smile lingering on his face. ‘Imagine me winning the greatest race in existence.’
‘You’re not still talking about the Grand National are you?’ Emma exclaimed sharply, walking into the library in her usual brisk way. ‘We’re never going to hear the end of it, I can see.’
Laughing, Blackie pushed himself, up, went to greet her, kissed her cheek. ‘Now, mavourneen, don’t spoil me bit of fun.’ He held her away from him, and studied her closely. ‘Bonny as always, and I see you’re wearing my emerald bow.’ His face filled with genuine pleasure as he gestured to the brooch pinned on to the white-silk shawl collar of her grey wool dress. ‘I notice you haven’t had this off since we won. Now if that’s not an emblem of the National, I don’t know what is, mavourneen.’
Emma laughed, squeezed his arm, turned to Shane as he walked across the floor to join them.
Shane said, ‘Hello, Aunt Emma, and Grandfather’s right, you do look lovely tonight.’ He bent forward, kissed her cheek.
‘Thank you, Shane. How was the trip to Spain? I see you’re keeping that tan of yours going strong.’
‘I try,’ he said, grinning. ‘And the trip was very successful.’
Returning to the chair by the fire and drawing Emma along with him, Blackie said, ‘Shane will get you a drink. What would you like to have, Emma?’
‘Sherry, thank you.’
‘And where’s Emily?’ Blackie asked. ‘I thought she was coming in for a drink. Is she parking the car?’
‘No. She dropped me off and went on her way. She had to get over to Beck House early. She sends you her love, and her apologies. Apparently she’s cooking dinner for Shane and Winston tonight.’
‘Oh I am disappointed not to see her. I was looking forward to her visit – I’ve got a soft spot for young Emily. She always gives me a good chuckle, no one quite so pithy and blunt as Emily – except for you, of course.’ Blackie reached for a cigar, clipped off the end.
Frowning at him, Emma exclaimed fiercely, ‘Should you be smoking that thing? You promised me you were going to cut them out.’ He gave a throaty chuckle, grinned at her. ‘At my age!’ Shrugging, he went on, ‘I keep telling you, I’m living on borrowed time. I don’t aim to deprive myself of me last few pleasures. This – ’ He waved the cigar under her nose. ‘And me drop of whiskey.’
Emma let out a long-suffering sigh, knowing there was no use arguing with him.
Shane carried the glass of sherry over to Emma, sat down on the sofa. His grandfather and she had begun to talk about Emily’s wedding, which was to take place in two months. He sat back, lit a cigarette, listened, his mind straying to Paula. He worried about her constantly, and even though he presented a patient and understanding demeanour to her, he was extremely anxious for Jim to make a quick recovery from whatever ailed him. And what did ail Fairley? Booze and pills, Shane thought. He was convinced that this lethal combination had contributed to, if not caused, Jim’s recent collapse. Emma, Winston and Emily tended to agree with him, and Paula had confided in January that she thought Jim was an alcoholic.
‘Winston tells me you won’t be able to be his best man after all,’ Emma said, drawing Shane into the conversation. ‘We’re so disappointed.’
‘No more th
‘Yes, so Winston explained.’
Shane said, ‘Michael Kallinski’s standing in for me, and I can’t think of a better man for the job.’
‘I hear his father’s not been too well,’ Blackie interjected worriedly. ‘Have you spoken to Ronnie in the last few days, Emma?’
‘Yes, and he’s up and about. He’s had a bout of pneumonia, but he’s feeling much better. This April weather has been most treacherous. So sunny, but the wind has been awfully cold, hasn’t it? I’ve felt nithered to death these last few days.’
‘That’s nothing new,’ Blackie announced, sitting back, contemplating her fondly. ‘You suffered from the cold even when you were a slip of a girl. I remember how you used to shiver and complain about being frozen stiff at Fairley Hall.’
The two of them were soon engaged in a discussion about the past, which Shane had noticed they were prone to do quite frequently these days. He listened for a while, but when the clock on the mantelpiece struck he glanced at it, saw that it was six-thirty. Stubbing out his cigarette and downing the last drops of his drink, he stood up. ‘I’m going to push off, leave you two lovebirds to your own devices. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Grandpops.’
‘That gives me a lot of rope then,’ Blackie retorted, winking broadly.
‘Several hundred yards at least,’ Shane answered, his tone jocular. He bent over the chair and kissed his grandfather in the tenderest way, touched his shoulder. ‘Take it easy, and I’ll come and see you tomorrow.’
‘Yes, please do, my boy. I’ll be looking forward to it, and have a nice evening.’
‘Thanks, I will, Grandpops.’ Shane stepped over to Emma. He thought how pretty she was despite her grand age. After kissing her, he said, ‘Keep an eye on this old warrior for me, Aunt Emma. I know he’s a handful – but then you’ve had his number for years.’