In Focus (2009) (26 page)

‘Yes.’

He walked across to Pete’s office, not bothering to knock on the door. He never had before so why start now?

Pete was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, a frown creasing his forehead. He looked up and groaned in relief at the sight of his cousin. ‘Thank goodness you’re back! Look, can you just—’

‘I’m not back in that sense.’

‘What do you mean? You’re here, aren’t you? Are you really going to let the show fall to pieces?’

‘It won’t do that.’

‘It’s already shaking on its foundations. Gerry’s useless. He can’t cope.’

‘He’s not useless. You’re asking him to do a job he’s not done before. He’s only been with us for a couple of months. What do you expect from him, miracles?’

‘
You
managed all right.’

‘I’m older and far more experienced. Besides, we built up your career gradually. I had time to learn on the job. Gerry’s intelligent and hard-working. Give him a chance.’

Pete’s voice became coaxing. ‘You’ll manage this show, though, won’t you, Edward? You’ll come back, just for this one week?’

And then it’d be just for another week. ‘No.’

To his astonishment Pete looked ready to burst into tears at his blunt refusal. He’d never seen his cousin look so . . . human. Gone was the easy charm, the relaxed smile, and even Pete’s clothes looked less smart. He should never have worn that garish shirt for a day at the office. Probably Fran had monitored what he wore before. They’d need to get someone else to supervise his wardrobe for the show and—

Edward stopped himself mentally. Not his business now. But maybe he had left Pete too abruptly. All he knew was, he couldn’t face coming back to the constant demands that sucked him dry of energy. ‘Look, Gerry can ring me and I’ll give him a few pointers, but I’m not, repeat not, coming back to work for you. Ever. Give him my personal mobile number.’

Pete’s expression became vicious. ‘I’ve checked your contract. You need to work out your notice. We agreed on a month’s notice either side.’

‘So sue me. And I’ll bring up in court the fact that you’ve never allowed me to take a holiday in peace, or a weekend even. I’ll claim I’m having a breakdown.’

Pete folded his arms. ‘Why did you come here if you’re going to be such a shit?’

‘Because I went to see Aunt Sue this morning.’

‘So?’

‘I’ve never seen her so upset. She’s too old for such stress and you know her health isn’t the best. I’m worried about her. Really worried.’

‘She deserves to be upset after what she did to me. And she’s not the only one who’s upset, if you remember my visit to you on Saturday. I’ve not lost it like that since I was a small child. I’m not sure I even cried then.’

They both fell silent, contemplating this. Yes, Edward thought, Pete hadn’t cried as a child or got into quarrels and fights. He’d been sunny and charming with everyone, the centre of attention, the beloved son of the house.

‘I don’t want to see Mum again till I’ve got myself together,’ Pete said sulkily.

‘You can’t bury your head in the sand. In fact, your attitude to this whole crisis isn’t leading anywhere useful. But first and foremost, you have to see your mother. She needs you desperately.’

‘Well, she can’t have me. She and Dad got me into this. She’ll have to wait till I find some way to sort it out.’

‘You could do that quite easily by agreeing to see your birth mother and making peace with her. If she’s anything like her daughter, she’ll be—’

‘If you don’t see her and you don’t see Aunt Sue, how exactly are you going to fix things?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think, dammit.’

‘So what do I tell your mother?’

‘Tell her I’m furious about all this. And tell my birth mother the same thing. I’m definitely not going to see
her
, and she can like it or lump it.’ His voice softened. ‘You go and talk to her for me, Edward. You’re good at negotiating agreements. Get her daughter on side. Find out how much they want to keep quiet and I’ll pay it in a blink.’

Edward turned on his heel, stopping at the door to say curtly, ‘I’ll say it one final time. The Hardings do not want money, Pete, they want closure. And for your birth mother, that means seeing you.’

He walked out, so angry he didn’t stop when Ilsa called his name.

He didn’t stop until he was several hundred yards away.

In the reception area, Ilsa and Gerry exchanged shocked glances. Gerry had arrived shortly after Edward and they’d heard most of the conversation because the door hadn’t been shut and both men’s voices had risen higher and higher.

‘We’d better keep that information to ourselves,’ she said.

He nodded.

Pete yelled from his office, ‘Get Gerry round here.’

‘He’s here already.’

Pete came to the door. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘I just arrived. I – um, passed Edward on the way. He looked furious.’

‘I’m the one who should be looking furious, the way he’s dumped me in the shit.’ He looked up at the clock. ‘We’d better get down to the studio and run through the show. Get us a taxi, Ilsa.’

‘It’s only a short walk,’ Gerry protested. ‘We’d get there more quickly on foot.’

‘And on foot we’ll be an open target for anyone who wants to stop us. I’m not in the mood for chatting up gushing women today, so just do as you’re told and get the bloody taxi.’

Pete heard Gerry breathing deeply and Ilsa had that tight expression on her face that she got when he’d been too brusque. His head was thumping and he turned to find the painkillers he kept in his desk.

He tossed two tablets down quickly. He’d smooth things over with Gerry later. At the moment all he wanted to do was sort out the damned show and then hide for the rest of the day.

Three hours later, there was still so much to do that Pete lost it again and roared at everyone. He watched their expressions go wooden and knew he’d blown it, but didn’t have the energy to mend things.

He turned to Gerry, who was still frowning. ‘Get your bloody finger out. You’re supposed to be in charge. Do something. Sort this mess out. I’ve got a blinding headache and I’m going home.’

When he got there, he took some more painkillers and began pacing up and down the flat, wondering what the hell to do with himself that evening. He was sure he and Fran had had several engagements booked, they always did, but he couldn’t find the social diary. She’d probably taken it with her on purpose.

Well, if he was supposed to see anyone tonight, he’d say he was ill. He’d get a meal sent up from the café across the road and he’d chill out, watch TV or a movie.

He opened a bottle of wine with the meal and about an hour later realized he’d drunk the lot. When he stood up, he felt pleasantly distant from all his troubles, so walked across to pour himself a generous whisky as a nightcap. He’d feel better after a good night’s sleep.

Some time later he staggered along to the bedroom, flung himself on the bed fully-clothed and let all the pain and hassles fade away.

Sixteen

Sue woke feeling so strange she knew something was seriously wrong. She couldn’t move properly but managed to press the alarm button beside her bed before she lost consciousness.

The warden on duty that night came to investigate and dialled the emergency number as soon as she realized what had happened.

Joyce stood watching as Mrs Newbury was rushed to hospital, feeling upset as she always did when a resident was taken ill. Pulling herself together she rang the next of kin listed in the retirement village records. But Mrs Newbury’s son didn’t answer.

She tried several times over the next hour, then rang the hospital. They told her Mrs Newbury was holding her own and asked if the next of kin had been contacted.

Joyce went back to Sue’s house to try to find someone else to ring. She hated going into their homes without permission, but this was an emergency. A quick check of the phone book revealed an Edward Newbury, so she rang him.

Edward was jerked out of sleep by the phone ringing. If it was Pete, he’d unplug the damned thing, but first he’d give his cousin an earful.

‘What do you want now?’ He jerked fully awake as a woman’s voice answered him.

‘Sorry if I woke you. I’m Joyce, the warden from Sunny Meadows Retirement Village. Um – are you related to Sue Newbury?’

‘Yes. I’m her nephew. Is she all right?’

‘I’m afraid she’s just been taken to hospital. Thank goodness she managed to press the emergency button! It looks like a stroke to me, but of course that’s for the doctors to decide.’

‘How is she?’

‘Barely conscious and confused.’

Edward took down the details and rang Pete. There was no answer, so he rang the concierge at the luxury gated community and explained what had happened.

‘I can see the flat from here, sir, and the lights are on. I’ll just go up and knock.’

‘Take your master key. He’s a sound sleeper, especially if he’s had a drink or two. This is my mobile number. Call me if he’s not there. I’ll be with his mother.’

As he was walking into the hospital, his mobile rang.

‘Concierge here. I’m sorry, Mr Newbury. Your cousin’s had new locks fitted and I don’t have a key to them. He’s not answering the door.’

Edward bit back a curse. This wasn’t the concierge’s fault. ‘Look, keep an eye open in case he’s out and returns, but don’t stop phoning the flat. He’s a heavy sleeper. If you get through to him, tell him where I am.’

Edward walked into an emergency department that looked like hell on earth at this hour of the night, with small groups of people in anguished huddles and a young child crying with penetrating shrillness. A man with blood streaming from his forehead was helped in by a friend just then, and it took Edward a few minutes to get anyone’s attention as they attended to the accident victim.

The receptionist sent him up to the stroke unit. There, a ward clerk showed him into a small waiting room. ‘Your aunt is having a CT scan at the moment to help determine what sort of stroke it is, which will affect treatment.’

‘Is she conscious?’

‘Yes, but she’s a bit bewildered by it all. These things can happen so suddenly. Has she been under treatment for high blood pressure or anything like that?’

‘No. But she had a bad shock yesterday. Could that have caused it?’

‘I can’t say, sir. The doctor will be able to tell you more when they’ve done the scan.’

Edward would have paced up and down, but the waiting area was too small, so all he could do was sit – and try in vain to contact Pete.

When the doctor came, she said it was a stroke, but luckily not too major.

‘My aunt will recover, then?’

‘Nothing is ever certain with strokes, but she stands a good chance.’ She smiled. ‘You can go and sit with her, if you like. I’m sure it’ll comfort her to see you when she rouses.’

He found a nurse straightening the covers and adjusting the position of the call button. His aunt had always been slender, but now she hardly made a bump in the covers and she was nearly as pale as the sheets beneath her. Her eyes were closed but she opened them when Edward spoke to the nurse. He turned to her at once.

‘You’ve had a little stroke, Aunt Sue. Don’t worry. It’s not a serious one. I’ll stay with you till you feel a bit more yourself.’

She managed a tired smile and he was sure her eyes were saying thank you, then her eyelids fluttered and she seemed to sleep again.

He looked round the ward in distaste. They’d partitioned off the huge, old-fashioned room into smaller sections of six beds, in an attempt to give the patients more privacy, but the stroke unit wasn’t a restful place. Several people in his aunt’s section were lying still. From other parts of the unit, however, sounds carried all too clearly, echoing from the high ceiling. Somewhere a woman was weeping, another was calling out incoherently and from a room at the side a man’s voice rambled on and on, the words blurred and incomprehensible.

Edward went back to the ward clerk. ‘My aunt has private medical cover. Isn’t there somewhere quieter she can be transferred?’

‘If we transfer her, she won’t be in the specialist stroke unit, sir, with staff experienced in caring for and diagnosing her problem. It really is for the best, at least till we’re sure she’s stabilized.’

‘Are there no side rooms, then?’

‘They’re occupied by people who are worse than her, sir.’

He went back to sit by Sue’s bed, nodding to a woman sitting by a bed further down the row. He’d read somewhere that the first twenty-four hours were critical, so he wasn’t going anywhere yet.

Every now and then he tried phoning Pete. It wasn’t until four o’clock that his cousin picked up the call and it didn’t take Edward long to realize that Pete was still drunk.

‘Your mother’s in hospital.’

Silence. Then, ‘What happened?’

‘She had a stroke. I’m with her now. You might like to join us, if you’re sober enough. I’ve been ringing you for several hours.’

Pete ignored his comment. ‘I’ll have a quick shower first.’

‘Clearing your head? You’ve got to stop hitting the booze so hard, Pete. Your face is starting to get puffy. That’s not good for your image.’

‘Will you get off my back!’ The phone was slammed down hard.

Early on Tuesday morning Beth picked up the phone, hoping the call hadn’t woken the children. Her heart lifted when she heard Edward’s voice. Then he explained about his aunt.

‘Oh, dear! I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m staying with her. At the moment I’m waiting for Pete to arrive. I hope I didn’t wake you. You said you always got up early.’

‘I’m in the kitchen enjoying a peaceful cup of coffee. The others haven’t surfaced yet.’

‘We’ll have to play it by ear as to whether I can still take you out tonight, as we’d planned. I hope you don’t mind.’