A Face To Die For (38 page)

Conjecture petered out and the story finally died. I decided that the Mafia inference had most probably been simply a ploy to sell more newspapers.

*

When I eventually faced visiting Kate in the Grisham Clinic on the outskirts of Guildford, where plastic surgeons were preparing her for tissue grafts on her face and chest, she was propped up in bed surrounded by masses of flowers and cards. Despite pre-warnings from Oliver, I was appalled by her appearance. I tried to steel myself but my voice almost disappeared with the pent up emotion inside me.

Much of her face and neck was covered by protective gauze, but a badly bruised and stitch scarred area was visible on her chest. A lump lodged in my throat as she gazed at me with sad lifeless eyes. Gulping hard, I fought back the tears.

'Hello, darling, how are things?' Kissing her head I took her right hand that lay limply above the sheet. What a banal question I thought! Clearly she's in a dreadful mess. Feeling embarrassed, I grinned stupidly and pushed the basket of mixed fruit I was holding forward, onto the bed.

Kate squeezed my hand. 'Thanks, it’s lovely to see you. As you see, I’m coping. How are
you
though?' She peered at me through tearful eyes. 'I'm so sorry I've been neglecting you. You've obviously been going through your own hell and I've only been concerned about myself. I'm so ashamed.' She gripped my wrist. 'Annabel ... I'm
so
sorry about Luigi. It's only just beginning to sink in ... I mean, what happened and everything.'

I pulled a chair forward with my free hand. 'Can you recall now what led up to the crash?'

'Well ... I can … sort of.' Her voice faltered. She released her grip and seemed to be fumbling for words. I waited. 'I keep having horrendous nightmares and they're confusing me with what actually happened ... or anyway what I
think
actually happened.' She faltered again, giving an agonizing cough.

'If it's too hard to talk, leave it, darling. We can discuss it another time...'

Damn it, I thought, I really do want to hear about it
now
though.

'No. I'm all right,' she gasped. 'It happens now and again. My right lung's still weak you see, from the injury.'

'Of course, just take it slowly. I'm in no rush darling.'

After a few more seconds she continued, and much slower this time. 'Well ... we were in Vito's car, driving along ... enjoying the countryside. We stopped to view the coastline before turning inland.' She paused to get her breath. 'I remember it was hilly ... rugged, and the road was narrow. Then we were on this bend. I think Luigi was trying to brake, and the car started swerving from side to side. He was yelling things in Italian. But he was on my deaf side so I couldn't hear any of it clearly but he seemed to be struggling to control the car. We must have hit the tree then ... because after that it's blank. I was obviously knocked out and thrown clear, and Luigi...'

Tears welled in her eyes and she began to sob.

Damn! Due to her deafness she couldn't tell me what he'd said; to know if the car was behaving oddly, or anything. 'Do you remember the car catching fire afterwards?'

'No, not really.' Her breathing seemed a bit easier now. 'I have nightmares though; that I'm fighting flames inside the car but I know that couldn't possibly have happened. It's confusing, trying to sort out the facts from what occurs in my dreams and hallucinations.'

'I can imagine. It's a nightmare to even think about it. Thanks for telling me anyway. From what you say, I don't suppose we'll ever know why the car went out of control, will we? Luigi would have been the one to tell us if it had been brake failure. Although that’s odd, because according to Vito, the car had
just
had a full service. The wreck's a burnt shell and the driver, apparently following a bit behind you, could only give a basic account because he didn't actually
see
the crash take place, due to the bend in the road. He arrived at the scene apparently just before the engine caught fire. Thank God darling, you were thrown free. Poor Luigi though, didn't stand a chance.'

'I know. Sometimes I wish I'd died too.' Her voice quavered again.

'Don't say that, Kate!'

She squeezed my hand. 'But you know, Annabel, I think I must have been conscious at some point. I must’ve seen the flames and felt some of the heat where I lay, to dream about it so vividly. Awful dreams they are. And I can
feel
the searing heat!' She searched my face with her moist eyes.

There was still another question I
had
to ask. 'Kate, what on earth induced Luigi to take Vito's car? He hardly
ever
drives himself for one thing. To take you off like that into the country, in a strange, fast car, on roads that he was unfamiliar with baffles me. Why on earth did he do it?'

Kate lowered her eyes. 'Well, I might have been to blame for that. You see, I suggested we go for the drive that morning. I wanted to see more of the island and it didn't seem an unreasonable request.' She looked up searching my face.

'Well no, it wasn't, and I suppose I might well have asked to do the same. But why go in Vito’s car, for heaven’s sake?'

'Over breakfast Vito mentioned his Alpha Romeo was at our disposal if we wanted to use it. I'm afraid I was the one who persuaded Luigi to take it. I thought it would be fun you see?' She glanced at me with alarm in her eyes, before quickly lowering them again.

'I see,' I said flatly, knowing now that had I been with them in Sicily it would
never
have happened.

Kate seemed to read my mind. 'You think it was my fault, don't you?' she wailed, her nails digging into my hand. 'You blame me for Luigi's death! I've been torturing myself about it ever since. Can you ever forgive me?'

Tears welled again in her eyes and my heart heaved with sadness once more. Of course the thought of Luigi suffering such a pointless death infuriated me. Hell! Yes, I did want to scream at her, that I do blame her! I couldn’t help thinking it.

But, facing her lying there in such a dreadful sorry state slowly diluted my anger until I was only left with pity. Wasn't she suffering enough? God knows if she would ever recover properly. Compassion suddenly poured from me, breaking through the tension of the moment.

'No recriminations please Kate,' I said, gripping her hand. 'Put all that out of your mind now. Just you concentrate on getting over all this. Forget about apportioning blame. No amount of agonising can alter what happened. We must both look to the future now.'

I could hardly believe myself! I knew that, had it been anyone else lying there, telling me the facts, I could never have been so forgiving. We searched each other's eyes and I sensed a hint of relief in hers.

'But what future have I now, Annabel?' she wept. 'I shall be such a mess; scarred for the rest of my life. Oh I know they can do wonders with plastic surgery, but... but not enough to completely rectify all my injuries. I shall never be able to model again.'

I did my best to assuage her doubts about her future. However, without knowing how extensively her injuries would affect her looks, I found it hard to be entirely confident about it. Even after expert plastic and cosmetic surgery I doubted she would be fit to model again. My heart ached for her. If only I could wave a wand and give her back her life again.

*

As I drove home later in heavy rain, I suddenly thought about her drug habit. Had she kicked it now I wondered? Her enforced hospitalisation might, after all, have served her that one single blessing amidst all the horror. I must ask her next time, but I dreaded the thought of another visit. I felt so depressed and alone. The torrential weather outside, echoing my tears of misery, wasn't much help either.

Over the next few days, concern about her questionable recovery haunted me, tormenting my thoughts day and night. I was losing weight myself now, and biting my nails! A sure sign that I was suffering from extreme stress. I felt lonely and helpless, and I so missed having Luigi to turn to. Without his support the future seemed a huge open void of uncertainty.

After a few nights tossing around, when no sleep would come, I decided I had to get away. By this time I had begun to delegate more and more work to Jules and Lynda. Going through this personal crisis, I'd had the sense to realise that I was not fit to run
anything
,
let alone a fashion business. The next collection was well in hand and I knew that, between the pair of them, they could carry it all through with minimum input from me. I'd also decided to put the Winter Cruise collection on hold for the time being. It could wait. My sanity must come first. North Wales beckoned me.

*

It was after midnight when I arrived at Maddock House. I'd telephoned Mum and Philip just before leaving London to warn them that I was on my way. Mum had been relieved at my decision although, I think, knowing me so well, she must have realised how desperate I was feeling, to leave the business again so readily.

Soft lights inside the hotel welcomed me as the taxi rounded the curved drive leading up to the entrance. As I got out, sea air instantly filled my lungs and I could imagine the water lapping the beach in the cove below in the distance. The gardens and the cliff path were in total darkness. It was one of those nights when no moon was visible, just a few twinkling stars in a navy velvet sky.

I breathed in the balmy salt night air and childhood memories of seaside holidays spent there flooded back. Once more I could visualise halcyon days, picnicking and playing on the beach with Belinda. They'd been such blissful, hassle-free times, untouched by tiresome responsibilities of adulthood. I felt an unbearable ache in my heart; not only for lost times but also for those dear to me who'd been torn from my life, leaving me feeling so alone.

I recalled poignantly the two idyllic days spent there with Luigi before flying off to Paris, history never to be repeated. It was as if I'd come to the end of a chapter in a book and the bookmark lay between the pages waiting for me to read on. But
could
I start again? My life as I'd known it was over.

A rectangle of light suddenly opened up before me, welcoming me, as silhouettes of Mum and Philip stood in the doorway to greet me. I ran towards them. Their arms enveloped me.

'Oh it's so good to be here,' I sobbed, breaking down all the barriers that had shielded me from them over the past few years, especially during my obsession with the business and the emotional adult involvements in my life. All I wanted now was to be their little girl again, to be loved and taken care of once more. For a magical moment time stood absolutely still as we hugged and cried together.

The weather stayed warm and clear over the next few days as if welcoming my return and I came to realise how much I'd missed the warmth and comfort of being with my family. Mum and Philip made me feel secure and wanted again. Uncle Sid, who seemed much fitter, did too.

We spent a wonderfully contented time, relaxing all together, laughing and reminiscing over undemanding reverberations of past and present family life. I discovered with such pleasure how tiny things that had slipped my memory were as clear once again as if they'd only happened yesterday. Did I remember a particular summer when certain events happened? Of
course
I remembered! Vividly.

As the days passed, I realised that this wasn't, after all, the end of my life, or the end of
anything
.
That nothing, apart from my own death, could bring that about. Instead, all of this was simply an expansion of life. The bookmark had allowed me to pause, to focus my thoughts. I must now open my book again and continue my life, even though it had changed.

'This break has done me so much good,' I remarked to Mum one morning, following the first decent night's sleep I'd had in ages. 'I think I can face things again now. Time I got back to work.'

'Good to hear it, Anna!' Philip said, walking in on the end of the conversation. 'Not that we want you to go, it's just grand to hear you're back to your old, positive self again.'

'I know. Have I been that awful?'

'Of course not, darling. We've enjoyed you being here. If you can't turn to us at such times it would be a poor state of affairs,' said Mum.

Reassured now, I could return to London, to whatever lay ahead of me. I wasn't alone. I still had a place within the rich collage of life. But, above all, it helped to know that I was still loved.

*

Kate's rehabilitation continued to go well. I tried to get down to see her in the clinic most weekends and was most encouraged by the way her scars were healing, if still despondent about her negative attitude about her future.

Completely weaned off cocaine now, she'd gone into a deep depression. Fears about how her face and neck would look after the plastic surgery haunted her. She suffered considerable discomfort too, particularly from areas on her buttocks and the insides of her leg, from where the surgeon had taken skin tissue for grafting.