The Angel Tree (62 page)

‘Thank you, that’s so sweet of you.’

‘Now, I have to go. Take care of both of you, won’t you?’ Greta leant over to kiss her granddaughter.

‘And you. Send my love to Cheska,’ Ava added as Greta left the room.

‘Well then, I’d better be off.’ Greta stood by the front door, about to get into the taxi that would take her to Heathrow. She hugged David, Tor, Simon and
Mary goodbye and thanked them all for having her. ‘I’ll call as soon as I’m there.’

David carried Greta’s bag to the car for her, and took her hand as she opened the passenger door. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’ he asked.

‘Positive.’ She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Instinctively, he put his arms around her.

‘What a journey we’ve been on, Greta,’ he whispered. ‘Please take care of yourself. I’m so proud of you.’

‘Thanks, and I will. Bye.’

Greta climbed into the taxi before David could see the tears that had appeared in her eyes.

The first thing Greta noticed when she walked into the hospital was the smell. It didn’t matter what country the hospital was in, how expensive and upmarket it was, it
was always the same, and always reminded her of her own long stay after her accident. She introduced herself at reception, and was taken up in a lift by a woman in a smart suit and handed over to
the night sister in ICU.

‘How is she?’ Greta asked. The dreadful hush, broken only by the sound of machines, was something she also remembered vividly.

‘I’m afraid she’s in a critical condition. Her lungs have filled with fluid from the pneumonia and, even though we have done all we can to remedy it, so far the treatment has
not been effective. I’m sorry,’ she said in her brisk Swiss accent. ‘I wish I could give you better news. Here she is.’

All kinds of machinery surrounded the frail figure in the bed. Cheska had on an oxygen mask, which seemed far too big for her delicately sculpted, heart-shaped face. Greta wondered if it was her
imagination, but her daughter seemed to have shrunk. Her tiny wrist bones were painfully visible through her thin white skin.

‘The doctor is checking on her every fifteen minutes. He’ll be in soon.’

‘Thank you.’

The nurse left, and Greta watched her daughter for a while. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

‘My precious little girl, how can I ever tell you how much I’ve loved you? You must know that none of it was your fault. I should have seen, I should have known,’ she
whispered. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry . . .’

She reached out a hand and stroked Cheska’s cheek. She looked as innocent and vulnerable as she had when she was a small child. ‘You were such a good baby, never gave me a
moment’s trouble, you know. I adored you. You were so very beautiful. And you still are.’

Cheska didn’t stir, so Greta continued.

‘The thing is, Cheska, I’ve remembered now. I’ve remembered everything that happened and how many mistakes I made. I didn’t put you first, you see. I thought then that
money and fame were more important, and I pushed you, because I didn’t understand what it was doing to you. I didn’t see that you were suffering . . . please forgive me. For everything
I got wrong.’

Cheska shuddered suddenly and then coughed – a deep, viscous noise which Greta remembered so well from those final agonising days with Jonny.

‘My darling, I can’t bear it if you leave me now, because I really think it’s the first time I’m able to be the mother you’ve always needed. You’ve lost so
much. First Jonny, your beloved twin. I remember you used to follow him everywhere. And then your father . . .’

‘Jonny . . .’

A strange, guttural sound came from inside the oxygen mask and Greta saw Cheska’s eyes were wide open.

‘Yes, darling, Jonny. He was your brother and—’

Cheska was moving her arm weakly up to her face. She tapped the oxygen mask and shook her head.

‘Darling, I don’t think I can remove it. The doctors said—’

Cheska struggled to pull it off.

‘Let me do it.’ Greta leant over her and pulled it away from Cheska’s mouth. ‘What is it you wanted to say?’

‘Jonny, my brother. He loved me?’ she rasped, panting with the effort.

‘Yes, he absolutely adored you.’

‘He’s waiting for me. He’ll be there.’ Cheska’s breathing became even more laboured and Greta put the oxygen mask back into place.

‘Yes, he is, but please remember that I love you and need you too—’

The doctor came in then, and checked on Cheska. She seemed to have drifted back to sleep.

‘Can I have a word, Mrs Hammond?’

‘It’s Mrs Marchmont, actually, but of course.’

The doctor indicated she should leave the room.

‘Goodbye, my darling little girl,’ she said. She stood up, kissed Cheska on the forehead and left the room.

‘Goodbye, Mummy,’ came a whisper from behind the mask. ‘I love you.’

It was Mary who answered the telephone when it rang at lunchtime on New Year’s Eve.

‘Hello?’

‘Mary, it’s Greta. Cheska died at three o’clock this morning.’

‘Oh, I’m so, so sorry.’

There was silence for quite a while.

‘Is David there?’ Greta said eventually.

‘I’m afraid he and Tor left earlier this morning for his apartment in Italy. I’m sure you can contact him there. Shall I give you his number?’

‘No. Let him have his holiday. Is Ava around?’

‘She’s resting. Simon’s downstairs somewhere, though.’

‘Could I speak to him, please?’

Mary went to find Simon. He listened to what Greta had to say and agreed that he would tell Ava gently when she woke up.

‘I’m sorry, Greta. Really.’ He put the phone down and sighed.

‘End of an era, isn’t it?’ said Mary.

‘Yes. But there’s a new one coming very soon, and we must all try not to forget that.’

Mary watched him as he walked off, his hands deep in his pockets, and knew he was right.

David and Tor were watching the magnificent New Year fireworks light up the harbour in Santa Margherita.

‘Happy New Year, darling,’ David said, hugging Tor to him.

‘Happy New Year, David.’ After a few seconds she pulled away from him and went to sit down on the tiny balcony.

‘What is it, Tor?’ David frowned. ‘Something’s wrong. You’ve been a bit distant ever since we arrived here. Tell me,’ he said, sitting down opposite her.

‘Really, David, I—’ Tor rubbed her forehead. ‘This isn’t the moment.’

‘If it’s bad news, it’s never the moment. So please, just tell me.’

‘Well . . . it’s about us.’ She took a gulp of champagne. ‘We’ve been together almost six years now.’

‘Yes, we have. And I’m finally going to make an honest woman of you.’

‘And I was truly honoured and happy that you asked me . . . at first. I love you, David, very much. I hope you know that.’

‘Of course I do.’ David was puzzled. Tor would never usually instigate a conversation like this. ‘But what do you mean, “initially”?’

‘Over Christmas, I realised something, even after you asked me to marry you.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Well, the thing is, I know you tell me you love me, and in one way I believe you, but the truth is, David, I think you’re in love with somebody else. And that you always have
been.’

‘With whom?’

‘Darling, don’t patronise either yourself or me. Greta, of course.’

‘Greta?’

‘Yes, Greta. And, more to the point, I know she loves you, too.’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake! How much champagne have you had, Tor?’ David chuckled. ‘Greta has never loved me. I told you I asked her to marry me once and she
refused.’

‘Yes, but that was then and this is now. I’m telling you, David, she loves you. Trust me. I saw it over Christmas. I saw the two of you together.’

‘Really, Tor, I think you’re exaggerating.’

‘I’m not. Your whole family can see it, not just me. And if two people love each other, then the obvious thing is for them to be together. David’ – Tor reached out her
hand and squeezed his – ‘I really think you should admit it to yourself: there’s only ever been one woman for you. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, but I think we
should both face up to it. We’ve had a fantastic six years together, not a moment of which I regret, but I think it’s run its course. And Christmas showed me that very clearly. Frankly,
I don’t want to be second best and I’m afraid that’s how I feel.’

‘Tor, please, you’re wrong! I—’

‘David, we’d already decided that, even after we marry, nothing will change, at least for a while. I have my life in Oxford and you have yours in London and at Marchmont. We’ve
kept each other company and it’s been wonderful. And I’m terribly fond of you, but—’

‘Are you saying you’re leaving me?’

‘Oh David, please don’t be so dramatic. No, I’m not leaving you. I hope we’ll always be friends. And if either you or Greta ever plucks up the courage to admit your
feelings to each other, I really hope I’m invited to the wedding.’ Tor slid the engagement ring from her finger and handed it to him. ‘Right, I’ve said it. Now, let’s
go into town and celebrate the New Year.’

Greta arrived back at Heathrow on a miserable grey day in early January. She had decided not to hold a formal funeral for Cheska. It would have meant asking the family to come
to Geneva, and there was also the possibility that the media would get wind of it. Instead, in her suitcase, she carried Cheska’s ashes, which she would take to Marchmont and bury beside
Jonny’s grave when she next returned.

Her apartment was freezing cold, as it had been empty for almost two weeks. After switching on the water and the central heating, Greta made a cup of tea and went to sit on the sofa, warming her
hands on the mug. She wasn’t sure when David was back from Italy, and had told everyone at Marchmont to wait until he had returned before telling him the news.

The clock ticked. And she heard the dull thud of pipes filling with water.

Apart from that, silence.

Greta sipped the tea and it burnt her tongue. She thought how much had changed since she had left for Marchmont two weeks ago. Before, she had been empty, devoid of feeling. And now she felt so
full of emotion she wondered how she would contain it.

She’d been desperate to speak to David after Cheska’s death, knowing he’d be the only one who would understand how devastated she felt. She’d lost both her babies now,
and even if it was perhaps the best thing for her poor, tormented daughter to be released from her tortured mind, the loss of the beautiful child she’d once adored so soon after her memories
had returned ate into her.

But Greta was determined that the one thing she mustn’t do any longer was rely on David. It was only since she’d regained her past that she could truly see what he had done for her
and been to her over the years. Now, even if she had never needed him more, she had to let him go.

The following week passed achingly slowly. To while away a bit of time over the bleak post-Christmas period, Greta wrote a letter to David, thanking him profusely for all his
help over the years and explaining that Cheska had died peacefully. She also wrote to Ava, wanting to explain to her, too, that her mother hadn’t suffered at the end and that she’d sent
her love to her.

‘I have never been of much use to you but, as I said to you before I left Marchmont, if you need me when the baby is born, I’d be very happy to help in any way I can,’ she
wrote.

David rang immediately after reading his letter, asking her how she was and telling her she had been right: Ava was having twins. It took Greta every bit of strength she had to tell him that she
was doing well, and yes, she’d taken his advice and was forging a new and busy life for herself. He asked her out to lunch at the Savoy in a couple of days’ time, but she declined,
saying she’d already made plans for a holiday but would be back by the second week in February and could see him then. Ava wrote back, complaining that she’d been confined to the house
by the doctor and that she hoped Greta would visit after the birth.

Greta scrubbed the apartment until it shone, baked cakes that no one was going to eat and signed up for yoga and art classes at the local adult education centre. She set to knitting matinee
jackets, bootees and hats, just as she had done all those years ago for her own babies and to pass the time at Marchmont. She also crocheted two shawls, and posted everything off in a big box to
Ava.

She could do this, she kept telling herself. It would just take time.

January finally became February, and the news came from Simon that she was a great-grandmother. Ava had given birth to a boy, Jonathan, and a girl, Laura.

‘Can you please tell her how delighted I am, Simon? And, of course, anything I can do, I’d be happy to help. I know how exhausting it can be with two,’ she said. Then she
replaced the receiver and wept with joy – and equally with grief that Cheska couldn’t be there to see her grandchildren.

A few days later, as she settled down in front of a soap opera, her supper on her knee, the telephone rang.

‘Granny?’

‘Yes. Hello, Ava, how are you? Congratulations, darling!’

‘Thanks. I think you know how I am, because you’ve been through it. Sleepless, exhilarated and feeling like a milk machine.’ Ava sighed. ‘But happier than I’ve ever
been in my life.’

‘I’m so glad, darling. As you know, I loved having my little babies.’

‘So Mary said. She told me you were a wonderful mother.’

‘Did she?’

‘Yes. By the way, thank you for the gorgeous shawls, and everything else. You’ve no idea how useful they all are. It’s freezing here, and both Laura and Jonathan seem to vomit
over everything. You’re so clever. I wish I could knit like that.’

Greta smiled. ‘I can teach you one day if you want, just like LJ once taught me. It’s easy.’

‘Well, that’s the thing . . . To be honest, I’m really struggling at the moment and it will be even harder when I go back to work, which is what I want to do in a couple of
months or so. I was just wondering, Granny, how do you feel about coming here for a bit and helping me? I know David says you just got back from a holiday and are quite busy in London, so please
say if you can’t. It’s just that I really don’t want to employ a stranger so I thought I’d ask you. I really am desperate just now,’ she added, with a catch in her
voice that smacked of the bone-aching exhaustion Greta remembered all too well.