Never Too Late (16 page)

Richard followed her gaze and pounced on a change of topic of conversation. “That is one stunning lady,” he commented.

Maggie laughed. “That’s the problem – I always imagine sparks are about to fly off her and the electrical charge would stun me for real.”

“Mmmm,” he nodded. “I think she could be a bit of a firebrand. James seems to have the measure of her though.”

“I do so hope so,” Maggie replied, worried once again about James’ introverted periods.

“They certainly seem very much in love,” was Richard’s assessments. “Don’t fret – if there’s love any problem can be overcome.”

Maggie nodded agreement. She was determined that if there was anything in her power that would help the young couple, she would be there for them. With the family behind them they would overcome any hurdles that lay in their path.

When the band announced a break to wet their whistles there was a general move to the buffet table, although there was taped music playing for those who still wanted to dance. Adam had had to relinquish Chloe to other partners for many of the dances but he’d engineered having a plate of food ready for her and they sat together near the bar to enjoy it. To his annoyance several of the friends she had invited from London clustered at the tables around them and he found it difficult to get into the conversation, spattered as it was with references which meant nothing to him. At least her thigh was close to his.

After the break James stepped up onto the small dais as the band were reassembling and took the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and those of you I know well enough to know you’re not always gentlemen,” he paused at the ripple of laughter, “could I prevail on you all to take a few steps with us in the garden? Mother - Chloe and I would like you to come and see your birthday present from us.”

Maggie looked bewildered. “There’s more? But I’ve already had my salon treatment and this wonderful party too.” She gestured around her. “Thank you all for coming tonight and making it such a special day for me.” Her smile brought a round of applause.

James and Chloe took an arm each and Adam slipped out ahead of them to throw the switch for the lighting they had installed in the newly designed garden area. As they came round the marquee Maggie gasped at the meandering double line of ground level lights that she could already tell followed the line of the path she had laid last autumn. It led to one of the few areas she had not yet decided how to transform. It was only as they approached it in the darkness that she could make out the full extent of the changes wrought. Now there was an arched rough timber and willow trellis along its length and she could make out new climbing roses, with their first growth tied up to it, ready to transform the new construction to a shady, fragrant walk.

As she went along the path with her children she breathed in deeply.

“What wonderful fragrances - you’ve chosen well. What variety are my new roses?”

“Well, there’s Alchymist and Constance Spry, Antique and Etoile de Hollande,” James told her.

“How marvellous! The colours will blend beautifully.” She paused again, delighted to inhale the heady perfume, strong on the warm night air. She did not care for many modern varieties of rose as she did not believe a rose could be called a rose if it did not have a perfume.

“Come on, Mummy,” Chloe urged her. “You haven’t seen it all yet.”

“There’s more?”

“Yes, there most certainly is,” James agreed.

As they rounded the last curve Maggie saw just how much more. There was now a proper garden pond at the end of the walk, also subtly lit, surrounded by rocks and with a waterfall a few feet high at the back. There were large rocks that looked perfect for sitting with your feet dangling in the water, watching the fish. The edge plantings were very new and raw looking, but with a gardener’s eye she could see exactly what it would look like in a few years’ time. She was stunned that this could have been achieved in such a short time.

“I just don’t know what to say,” she stuttered. “I’m overwhelmed!” she gathered Chloe and James into her arms and kissed them both. “Come here Adam – I know this is from you too, and you paid with sweat!”

Laughing, and with some embarrassment, Adam joined them in the family circle.

A while later Joanna had gone to the kitchen to retrieve some more ice when the front doorbell rang. She answered it to two police officers – a sergeant and a WPC. They looked very serious and she soon understood why.

“Come into the study please, officers. You won’t be disturbed there.” Her face was serious as she left them there and went to find her husband. Richard would know how to handle it; he was always a good man in a crisis.

“Hello dumpling.” He exaggerated leaning down to kiss her forehead for she was only 5’4”. “Hey, why so serious?”

He nodded his understanding to her when she explained, then she returned to the kitchen to arrange tea and medicinal brandy if it was required.

He ushered the family into the study ahead of him and made the introductions.

“I’m Sergeant Brown, Mrs McTavish and this is WPC Scott.”

They flashed their badges – was it out of habit or procedural necessity Maggie wondered distractedly? She could see from their faces that this was not a task they enjoyed. She felt like screaming at them ‘You don’t want to tell me and I don’t want to hear it so just go!’ but knew she had to face it, however bad the news they had come to tell her.

“Would you take a seat please?” the young woman urged her and she sank obediently onto the edge of the nearest chair.

“I’m afraid it’s some bad news we have for you,” the Sergeant explained.

Maggie felt a momentary urge to laugh, vividly picturing them turning up at someone’s house to tell a joke rather than bad news. She bit her lip hard, recognising the incipient hysteria for what it was and determined to beat it. Cool and dignified, that was what Iain had drummed into her. She wouldn’t let him down now.

“Yes, Officer, I think we all realise that. Please – go ahead.”

“There’s been a road accident, a head on collision, and your husband was driving one of the cars involved.”

She felt the blood drain from her face, a cold clammy sweat break out on her forehead and upper lip. She swallowed painfully, her mouth suddenly dry.

“How badly is he hurt?” she asked, dreading the worst but unable to articulate her fear.

“We don’t know the full details. He’s in a coma and various bones are broken, but they’re going to have to do lots more tests before they’re sure of the exact extent of his injuries.”

Maggie sagged with relief. Thank you God! He’s alive.

“He had a passenger,” the Sergeant continued. “She didn’t have any ID on her and her phone is PIN locked. We need to find out as soon as possible who she is so that we can notify her next of kin. Do you know who he was with this evening? A customer maybe, or a relation or family friend coming to the party?”

Maggie looked totally blank and turned to James and Chloe for any clues.

“Could you describe her?” James asked.

“About 5’8”, mid to late thirties, 120lb, black hair, brown eyes.”

Chloe jumped up and paced up and down the room. “The bitch!” she exploded. “Why couldn’t she leave Daddy alone when I asked her?”

“And what would her name be?” the Sergeant prompted her.

“Natasha fucking Barrett! A no-good, evil, scheming bitch!” she shouted at him.

“Now, now Miss,” the Sergeant rebuked her. “We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead now should we.”

Chloe rocked on her feet in shock and the WPC guided her down into a chair.

Maggie’s earlier high colour had drained completely and she felt near to fainting. “Chloe, tell me,” she begged, her voice almost inaudible. “Who is Natasha Barrett?”

Chloe’s lips trembled as she looked at the devastated expression on her mother’s face as various seemingly non-related and previously disregarded pieces of evidence started to slot into place with a final inevitability. Maggie looked from her to James to Richard. “Why am I the only one here who doesn’t know who she is? Or is that the most naïve question I’ve ever asked?”

She stood shakily. For some reason she didn’t feel able to cry. Perhaps the shock and the hurt, the feeling of betrayal, were too deep, too searingly painful, for her body to allow her any emotions just yet. “Excuse me, please,” she said, making her way to the door. “I just want to be alone for a little while. Then you can take me to the hospital James.”

*

Richard had organised them efficiently. He left Joanne with their car to get back to their children. Adam volunteered to see to the party guests and make Maggie’s apologies for her sudden disappearance.

Keela had a deep phobia about hospitals and offered to stay and help Adam. “Away with you now,” she said. “If I stay here overnight that’ll give you a single point of contact for passing on any news, and I’ll also be here to supervise the removal of the marquee in the morning.”

Richard chivvied Maggie into gathering some essentials for Iain into a bag. He drove Chloe in her car, deeming her unfit to drive herself, and James drove his mother to Stoke Mandeville Hospital.

Maggie glanced at her darling son and felt comfort from his presence. Most people didn’t see the similarities between father and son, but she knew James had inherited some sterling qualities. He was intelligent, organised, kind and loyal. He could also be relied on in any situation, even one as dire as this.

“How will we cope with your father paralysed, James? How will he cope? He’s never been able to bear inactivity.” Maggie was close to tears as she tried to imagine such a situation.

“Now, now, don’t jump to conclusions,” James soothed her. “We don’t know he’s paralysed. We’ll wait until we get there and get the details and then we’ll deal with it. Don’t torture yourself imagining the worst.”

“But he’s in Stoke Mandeville!” she wailed.

“It’s not just the National Spinal Centre there, Mum,” he reassured her. “It’s a normal hospital with A&E and all the rest of it. That’s all we know at the moment – he needed emergency care and they took him to the nearest hospital.”

“So what was he doing near Aylesbury?” Maggie’s brow furrowed for a moment and then cleared. “Of course – Chloe’s wrong. This Natasha must be a client. Iain must be building her a house there.”

“Mum, please don’t delude yourself any longer,” James pleaded. “I really am sorry but your earlier conclusion was the correct one.”

Maggie bit her lip and forced herself to face a truth she had so far suspected but kept locked away in the deepest recess of her mind. This was going to be a long journey. She nearly gave way to hysterical laughter thinking “Are we there yet?”. She knew it would take all her reserves to hold herself together for the next 24 hours.

*

Chloe watched Richard’s profile as he drove through the darkness. He reminded her of someone but she couldn’t quite place who. All she knew for now was that she felt safe in his hands – such strong, capable hands that held the steering wheel so gently. What would they have done without him? She shivered as unbidden the thought of those hands being gentle on her skin flittered through her mind.

“Cold?” he asked, glancing over. He turned the heating up a little. “Shock does that to you. Don’t worry – your father’s a strong man. I’ve no doubt he’ll pull through without any major problems.”

She looked away, embarrassed to have had such a thought while her father lay critically ill.

Thankfully they managed to park reasonably close to A&E. They headed towards the large brightly lit double doors in a tight group, subconsciously seeking comfort and support from each other’s proximity. Maggie spared the merest of glances at the four rows of chairs, a good two thirds of them occupied at this time on a Friday night. Chloe grimaced at the bloodied faces and hands of a trio of young men in one corner whose disagreements had obviously erupted into a fist fight. A woman shouted abuse and kicked the coffee machine in the corner when it didn’t dispense her drink, while two young children stared up at her wide-eyed.

“That’s enough over there!” the nurse on reception called to her. “Just sit down and wait your turn quietly like everyone else.” She turned to Maggie. “Which of your party is injured?”

“It’s my husband,” Maggie stammered. “The police told us he was admitted here a few hours ago.”

“And his name?”

“Oh, of course, Iain McTavish.” She felt very foolish for not giving it straight away. How was the nurse to know who her husband was?

The nurse held her hand a moment, a gentle squeeze of support. “If you take a seat over there I’ll find out how he’s doing and get someone to come and see you.” Her voice was warm with sympathy and Maggie smiled her thanks.

They sat together, silently watching the electronic red banner words sliding across above reception – ‘Average waiting time currently 3 hours 40 minutes. Non-urgent cases should see their GP in the morning’.

After a short while a couple of men wearing white coats came through the inner swing doors together, their heads close in low voiced discussion. All eyes were on them – any movement of staff in the department immediately attracted attention as patients hoped that it was finally their turn to be seen. They paused and talked a while longer, then one of the men went back through the doors and the other went to reception. The nurse nodded in their direction and he came over to them.

He extended his hand. “Mrs McTavish? I’m Dr Singh,” he greeted her. “I treated your husband when he was first admitted.”

“How is he?” Maggie’s eyes begged for good news.

“Let’s go over to the relatives’ room and we can talk privately,” he suggested. He saw Maggie blanch and he rushed to assure her, “Don’t worry – he’s holding his own.”

He ushered them to the armchairs ranged around the cheerful yellow room then he closed the door behind them. There was a table next to Maggie’s chair and she noticed that the African violet on it needed watering. She wanted to get up and see to it, she wanted to go home, she wanted to do anything rather than sit here and be told just how badly her husband had been injured. What if he stopped ‘holding his own’? How would she ever cope without him?