Love and Devotion (51 page)

‘I’ll ring for another ambulance,’ he said, hearing the panic in Gemma’s voice. ‘Hang in there, Gem. It’ll be fine.’

But he knew as he put a call through to the emergency services, his hands shaking and his heart pounding, that things were far from fine. He was just putting his phone back in his jacket pocket when Harriet appeared.

‘What’s the news?’ she asked.

‘It’s a total cock-up! The ambulance hasn’t arrived. I’ve just called for another.’ He swallowed. ‘Gemma says Suzie’s unconscious. They can’t wake her. I should have gone there. We could have got her here by now.’

‘Let’s go inside,’ she said. ‘You find us a vending machine for some coffee and I’ll have a word with someone on the desk.’

‘It’s no good, I’ve tried already. They’re all so busy.’

‘Just find the coffee, Will.’

 

Harriet explained the situation to the woman on the desk as clearly as she could, describing Suzie’s condition, that she was eight months pregnant, that she’d collapsed for no apparent reason, and that it sounded as though she was now in a coma. At no stage had Will mentioned the word coma, but Harriet feared the worst.

Satisfied that she’d done everything she could to prepare for Suzie’s arrival, she found Will pushing money into a vending machine. ‘They’ll be ready for Suzie when she comes,’ she told him. ‘We just have to wait now.’

He handed her a cup of something that smelled more like chicken soup than coffee. ‘But for how long?’ he muttered.

 

Each time there was a new arrival through the main entrance - a disorientated half-awake child carried by a parent, an elderly man in a wheelchair, a young lad in biker gear on a trolley with his neck in a brace — Will’s hopes would rise. But it was twenty minutes later, almost midnight, when they heard and saw a rush of movement that had both him and Harriet on their feet. It was the sight of Gemma coming in behind the paramedics that confirmed for Will that it was Suzie on the trolley — her face was partially hidden beneath an oxygen mask. He rushed over but was immediately pushed aside by a whirlwind of activity. Forced to stand back helplessly while Suzie was wheeled away and the paramedics briefed the medical staff, he caught snatches of what was said: ‘Coma ... preceded by vomiting and drifting in and out of consciousness ... foetal heart beat dropping ...’

Paralysed with shock, he stared after his daughter. How could this be happening? How could his beloved Suzie be in a coma?

‘Dad? She’ll be okay, won’t she?’

He turned. Gemma was standing next to him and the sight of her pale and dazed face brought him up short. He put his arm round her. ‘She’ll be fine, love. Once they’ve got her on the right medication or whatever it is they have to do, she’ll be as right as rain.’

‘Do you think she’s going to lose the baby?’

‘Let’s hope not. I’m no expert, but it’s probably strong enough to be born this early without coming to too much harm.’ He led her away from the main entrance to a quieter area beside an artificial Christmas tree, and suddenly remembered his mother. ‘Where’s Nana Ruby? Didn’t she come in the ambulance with you?’

‘She’s gone to Mum’s. I got her a taxi and gave her my key. Mum should be here, Dad.’

Proud of his youngest daughter for her foresight, he gave her another hug. ‘Good thinking, Gem.’

‘I don’t understand why she isn’t answering her mobile or phone. What’s she doing?’

‘I saw her earlier in the evening,’ Will explained. ‘Before I went out for dinner.’ He then told Gemma about Maxine cutting her foot. He didn’t go into details about the odd mood her mother had been in when he’d left her. ‘She probably decided to have an early night,’ he said.

Gemma sighed. ‘I just wish I’d learned to drive. If I had, I could have got her here quicker. Nana was upset too that she couldn’t do it. Oh, Dad, we both felt so helpless. What if she — ?’

Will cut her short. ‘Don’t even say it. Do you want a drink?’

No sooner had he spoken than he saw Harriet coming over with a plastic cup in her hand. ‘I thought you might like this,’ she said to Gemma. ‘Hot chocolate. With sugar. I can get you one without, if you’d prefer.’

Gemma took the cup. ‘No, this’ll be fine. Thanks.’

For the next few minutes they stood in a huddle of awkward silence, watching the clock and waiting for news. When a young doctor in a white coat approached them, Will tensed. He could see straight away from the man’s face that the news was bad. Suzie must have lost the baby. His heart went out to her.

 

 

 

 

After a brief round of introductions, the doctor ushered Will through to a room that was as cramped as it was uninviting. There were blinds pulled down over the windows blocking out any views — or perhaps it was to stop anyone looking in. There was a stark central light, chairs lined against the walls and Christmas decorations hanging wearily on a pathetically small tree in the corner. The doctor suggested they sit. He looked tired and much too young to do the job he did. Poor devil, thought Will. He probably hasn’t slept in the last forty-eight hours.

‘Mr Hart,’ the doctor began gently, ‘I’m so very sorry to have to tell you this, but you daughter suffered what we think, at this stage, was a ruptured aneurysm, specifically a subarachnoid haemorrhage. We won’t know for sure, not until — ’

Will’s mouth went dry. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry, could you explain what that is? In simple layman’s terms.’

‘Of course. It’s a type of brain haemorrhage, in which blood from a ruptured blood vessel spreads over the surface of the brain. In your daughter’s case it was a severe haemorrhage, which sent her into a coma. We did our best to carry out an emergency caesarean to save the baby, but I’m afraid — ’

Will took in the deepening expression of sympathy in the young doctor’s face. ‘The baby didn’t survive, did it?’ he said helpfully. ‘Does Suzie know?’

A shadow of what looked like awkward confusion passed across the man’s face. It made Will’s blood turn to ice. ‘Mr Hart, I’m afraid that neither the baby nor your daughter survived. Suzie never regained consciousness. I’m so very sorry.’

Will heard the words but it was as if his brain wouldn’t compute the information. He blinked hard. ‘I ... I don’t understand. Dead? Are you telling me Suzie’s dead?’ Suddenly he was finding it hard to breathe. A convulsive trembling had seized him.

‘Would you like someone to sit with you for a while, Mr Hart?’

While his body was caving in, his brain forged on trying to prove the doctor wrong. ‘But she can’t be dead. There must be some mistake. You’re mixing my daughter up with someone else.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Hart — ’

Whatever else the doctor had to say, Will was deaf to it. A crashing noise had filled the space between his ears. He slumped forward, his head in his hands. His whole body seemed to have turned inside out and disintegrated. A terrible animal-like sound escaped him and he thought he might pass out. The next thing he knew, Harriet and Gemma were in the room with him. Harriet was trying to hold him, but he was shaking her off. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. He looked around for the doctor and saw him standing in the corner talking to Gemma. Tears were streaming down Gemma’s face. The doctor’s hand was on her shoulder. He knew he should go to her, but he couldn’t do it. All he could think of was Suzie. His beloved Suzie.

‘Can I see her?’ he said to the doctor. ‘My daughter. Can I see her? Please.’

‘Of course.’

‘I want to see her too, Dad.’

‘No.’ Will’s voice was flat. ‘I want to do this alone.’

 

Harriet stood at the door and watched Will walk hesitantly beside the doctor. At one point he almost stumbled and the doctor put a hand to his elbow to support him. As they disappeared beyond the double doors at the far end of the corridor, it was a painful reminder for Harriet of the night Felicity and Jeff had died, when she had accompanied her father to identify the bodies. No parent should ever have to go through this, she thought. Poor Will. He was utterly devoted to his children. How would he ever come to terms with this?

Remembering Gemma, Harriet turned round to see if there was anything she could do to comfort the girl. She sat next to her, but sensed that Gemma wasn’t even aware that she was in the room with her. Minutes later, when the sound of raised voices broke the unearthly hush, Gemma’s head jerked up and she was instantly on her feet. ‘It’s Mum, she said. ‘She won’t know what’s happened. I’ll have to tell her.’

Feeling nauseous with impotent shock, Harriet once more found herself standing helplessly in the background. Gemma and her mother embraced, while an older woman, presumably Will’s mother, hovered to one side. With a burst of fresh tears, the young girl broke the devastating news.

With tears in her own eyes, and unsure now what part she could play in this horrific drama, Harriet decided to leave. She wouldn’t be wanted here.

 

 

 

 

Eileen and Dora were taking it in turns to cook for Will. Each evening they would leave a plastic food container in his porch with instructions on how to reheat whatever was inside. Harriet kept telling Eileen that he probably wasn’t eating any of it, and that there was every chance he would feel patronised by their Meals on Wheels approach. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Eileen told her, ‘at least he knows we care, that we’re here for him if he needs us.’

A week had passed since Will’s eldest daughter had died and Eileen wished she had the courage to knock on their neighbour’s door and tell him just how well she understood the pain of his grief. But Will had made it very clear that he didn’t want to talk when Eileen had called over with the first of the food parcels. Most days the curtains stayed shut; his car had moved only once from the drive and that was the day of the funeral. She had arranged for some flowers to be sent to the church in Maywood where the service had been held and had hoped that Harriet, on behalf of the family, would attend. But she hadn’t. When Eileen had asked her why not, Harriet’s reply had taken her aback. ‘I think I’m the last person he’d want there,’ she said.

‘But you’d been such good friends,’ Eileen pressed, keeping to herself that she and Dora had long since suspected that there was more than friendship between Harriet and Will. This suspicion had been backed up by Freda telling Dora that Miles had said much the same thing. She would have liked to probe further, but Eileen knew of old that Harriet wouldn’t welcome any intrusion into her private life. Especially as these days, living back at home, she had so little of it. All Eileen could imagine was that there had been a disagreement between them. Probably the night Will’s daughter had died.

That was the night Eileen had deliberately gone all-out to deceive her husband. Determined to push Bob as far from her thoughts as possible, she had gone with Dora and Derek to the pre-Christmas dinner dance put on by the Soiree Club, all set to have some fun. Disappointingly, she had been put on a different table from her friend and had found herself sitting between two very different men. The one on her left was about ten years younger than her and totally full of himself - if he was to be believed, he was hardly ever in the country because he was so busy playing golf in the Algarve or Palm Springs. The other man was possibly the dullest person she’d ever met. His only redeeming feature, which kept her entertained for most of the evening, was his hair. She’d heard about hair transplants and she supposed this was what the pasty-faced man had had done. All over the top of his head she could see where the ‘seeds had been sown’ so to speak; tufty shoots of fine black hair looked as if they had sprouted in neat rows. Halfway through dinner she had suddenly got a fit of giggles as she pictured herself with a watering can poised over his head.

During the course of the evening, even when she was asked to dance by a variety of men, she knew that the night was not proving to be the success she had thought it would be. Yes, she was flattered by the attention, and yes, it was lovely to be wearing a new dress and feeling happily light-hearted as they pulled crackers, wore party hats and danced till midnight — one man even asked her for her phone number - but there was only one man she wanted to enjoy the evening with and that was Bob. But not the Bob he’d become. She wanted her old Bob back: the man she’d always loved and still did.

Driving home with Dora afterwards - Derek had driven home separately - Eileen had realised that cheating on Bob to teach him a lesson would solve nothing. A tit-for-tat affair wasn’t the answer.

‘I could have told you that,’ Dora had said when Eileen confided in her.

‘Yes, but I had to see for myself.’

‘So what are you going to do next?’

‘I’m going to get Christmas over with and then I shall talk to Bob. Really talk. I’ll tell him I knew about the affairs all those years ago, that I forgave him then, as I will this time round. I’ll also tell him that I know why he’s done it, that I understand.’

‘You’re more forgiving than I could ever be.’

‘Please don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m being terribly righteous. I’m not. It’s just that I believe in my marriage and want to keep what’s left of my family intact.’

‘Will you tell Bob about tonight? How you were tempted to do the same because you were so angry and hurt, and that it was him who made you feel that way?’

‘Yes.’

‘And have you thought about the consequences if it backfires on you - if bringing everything out into the open gives him the courage to walk away?’

‘Oh, Dora, I’ve thought of little else. But I have to risk it.’

When Dora dropped her off, the house was in darkness and there was no sign of Harriet’s car on the drive. With Toby sniffing at her heels, Eileen had tiptoed upstairs, her shoes dangling from her hand. Bob was already asleep, but it was a restless sleep, his breathing ragged, his body twitching. Popping her head round Joel’s bedroom door she saw that his bed was empty. She found him sleeping peacefully in Carrie’s bed, his silky wrapped around his hand. She pulled the duvet over his shoulders and kissed him fondly on the cheek. He didn’t stir.