by Mary Malone
I’ve taunted myself enough with this insanity, she thought, regretting her journey into the past. It had bordered on lunacy, yet had helped her realise how far from ‘cured’ she was.
In a strange country, she’d been coping – something she and those around her had initially believed impossible. Her determination to fight back forced her out of bed in the morning, kept her going throughout her busy days.
Still shaking, she pushed away the memories. Staring at her reflection in the glass, her Ralph Lauren turtle neck was yet another reminder. But Philip Lord had taken more than a layer of her skin. He’d stripped her outer layer of confidence and stripped her trust in the opposite sex. Seeing the deep jagged dent in her chest every time she stood naked before a mirror, she knew she’d had a lucky escape when her cries for help had brought the event manager running from the conference room further along the corridor. Due to have left the building a half hour before, a technical glitch had forced the bank’s party planner to stay on – to Philip Lord’s detriment, as it turned out that evening.
Hearing her burst through the door, he’d dropped the corkscrew he’d been dragging through Charlotte’s skin and scurried through an alternative exit before their visitor could properly identify him. A flurry of medics and operations followed for Charlotte, rumours and speculation rife in the bank as to what happened between Philip Lord and his favourite protégée.
The bank’s management had offered her the opportunity to sue and her father had pleaded with her to destroy him but Charlotte hadn’t enough fight in her to either defend or deny the favours she’d been shown throughout her career. She envisaged a nasty court case, expecting him to strongly insinuate that she’d led him on, accepting promotions in return for intimate relations. Unable to face either the ordeal or the consequences, she’d booked a one-way flight to Toronto and fled once she was physically fit to travel. Her eyes wide open now, she knew she needed some form of recovery counselling, something she’d avoided until now.
She swivelled in her chair and faced the Toronto skyline once more, oblivious to the activity on Bloor Street or the intensity of rush-hour traffic below, several minutes passing before she eventually remembered that she’d cut Olivia Jacobs off.
Dialling the solicitor’s number once more, she waited to be put through. This time she kept her chair turned away from her computer screen, resisting any further distraction.
“Charlotte, what happened there? I could still hear someone speaking in the background but you were gone . . .”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to get though again but couldn’t. Sorry about that.”
“Well, in any case . . . I’m assuming you’re supporting your sister’s objection? The documentation I received mentioned you but doesn’t appear to have your signature.”
“No, I’m not supporting Beth on this occasion.”
“I see.”
Charlotte swung around in her chair once more, remembering her school pal’s expert advice. Managing to track Josephine down, she’d enjoyed a catch-up with her old friend and shared the story of Number 5 with her in confidence.
Listening with interest, Josephine had completely ruled out Seth’s attempt to question Polly’s ownership. “Any solicitor worth her salt will have thoroughly looked into that,” Josephine had advised. But she wasn’t as confident of his fight with new medical evidence. “No doubt,” she explained, “a court case will eventually see the truth come out but at what cost? At any rate, your father’s the only one that can truly lodge an objection. He’s her true next of kin.”
“But I’m guessing the medical evidence can’t be ignored either?” Charlotte had asked.
“Cripes, Lottie, your family will be torn apart if your uncle pursues things. And there’ll be precious little left of the inheritance if you end up hiring barristers and the likes for both sides.”
The family photograph on Charlotte’s desk attracted her attention now, filling her with disbelief that her family had been reduced to such backstabbing behaviour.
“The reason I’m calling is to offer my brother support,” she said to Olivia. “He’s perfectly entitled to everything he has received and I for one couldn’t be happier for him.”
The pause that followed this statement betrayed Olivia’s surprise. “In that case I’d appreciate it if you’d have your name removed from the objection.”
“I know my uncle’s coming up with all sorts of ridiculous notions on behalf of my sister but I’d advise close scrutiny of whatever you receive.”
“So your uncle’s behind this?” Olivia enquired.
“With my sister’s permission, I believe. It’s a mess at this stage, Olivia, but I’m officially opting out and I’d like that on record.”
“I’ve no doubt but that your aunt would be pleased to hear it.”
Charlotte muttered a few quick words of thanks and hung up, then at once dialled another Irish number – her father’s this time. It was only right that he be informed of what was going on. If anybody would know how to bring this charade to a stop, he would.
“Damn,” she muttered, failing to get through to her father’s mobile, pressing redial every time it sounded the irritating recorded message telling her the person she was calling had their mobile switched off. But she was determined to keep trying until she finally managed to speak with him. He deserved to know the truth and she owed it to him to tell him. Without question or judgement, he’d been there for her when she’d needed him most. It was high time she stopped self-obsessing and set about taking responsibility for a change. Taking control of every aspect of her life was within her grasp. It was up to her to reach out and grab it.
Chapter 34
Ed’s condition had deteriorated. Waking in the morning to find a nurse standing over him with a syringe in her hand, he knew his readings had lowered. Another notch in the wrong direction as far as he was concerned.
“Will I make it through the day?” he muttered, barely able to speak and finding it hard to swallow.
“Give over!” She gave a throaty laugh. “Looking for an excuse to put on your suit?”
He stuck out his arm, feeling like a pincushion they’d taken so much blood from him lately. Tests, tests and more tests! He often wondered why they bothered. In his own business, a piece of top-grade fabric cut into the wrong shape would be instantly discarded. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t do the same with him. A wasting body and a tired mind. Not much left on either count. He closed his eyes again, the effort of thinking exhausting. He’d hold on as long as he could but, short of a miracle, he felt he’d be over on the other side before he’d get to see his name in lights again.
Beth peered around the door to Ed’s room, her heart plummeting when she saw his wizened form slumped over in the chair. For the briefest moment, she thought she was too late, but then he let out some peculiar sound – a mixture between a groan and a grunt – and she let out the breath she’d been holding.
Retreating from the room and closing the door gently behind her, she took a stroll along the corridor and stopped at the tiny chapel, despite having very little faith of any description. Slipping into a pew she dropped to her knees and prayed for her brother-in-law.
Meeting Ed on occasion when she’d lived with Carl in Paris, she’d felt shy and uneasy around him. In her early twenties, she’d found it difficult to hold a lengthy conversation with a man in his forties, small talk soon running out. Carl, on the other hand, continually strived to impress him by regaling him with tales of his adventures. But his defences rose when Ed questioned him on his career plans or indeed his plans to take over the running of their parents’ vineyard instead of leasing it out to complete strangers.
“That’s your living, Carl,” he’d advised his wayward brother, repeating it at every given opportunity. “Your income could improve tenfold if you worked the vineyard, could be a thriving business if you market it properly.”
“Rental income’s enough for me,” the lazy Carl alway
s argued. “I’m not going to waste my life tending grapes and irate buyers, not to mention worrying if the next crop will be a disaster.”
Typical Carl, Beth thought with a sigh. Expecting the world to spin around him, pushing and pushing until there was no turning back.
Getting to her feet she turned to leave, bumping right into her father as she stepped into the narrow aisle. It was their first meeting since their heated exchange outside of the cemetery.
“Beth?”
“Dad.” Mindful that she was in a chapel, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re here to see Ed?”
“Who else?” He followed her from the chapel without stopping to pray. “About the other day . . .”
She shook her head and raised a hand. “Let’s not drag it up again. I’ve given a lot of thought to what you said and you’re right. I shouldn’t be relying on others so much.” She gave him a ghost of a smile. “Time I grew up and stood on my own two feet.”
Yet again, he ached to reach out and protect her but at least his words of advice had served for something. “Have you been here long? How’s Ed’s form today?”
“He was sleeping when I arrived so I haven’t spoken to him yet. But if looks are anything to go by, he’s not good.” She took a closer look at her father, noticing the reduced number of dark hairs amidst the silver strands. There were shadows underneath his eyes and his jacket hung loosely on his shoulders. “Have you lost weight, Dad?” she asked.
“Not that I’ve noticed,” he replied.
“There’s a cafeteria here. Will we share a cream bun and then visit Ed together?” Her invitation surprised her as much as him. Had it been that long since she’d shown him any concern? Had her offer of a coffee come as such a great surprise? It would be good, she thought, to have company when she returned to Ed’s room. She waited for his agreement.
But Frank was torn. Much as he wanted to join her, he worried that it would complicate things further. His main reason for coming had been to discuss Ed’s business with him, get as much detail as he could on the circumstances surrounding the theft and plagiarism of his designs. Carl’s information had lacked the attention to detail required. He’d have to hear Ed’s version of events and decide for himself if there was any point in pursuing the venture.
But he couldn’t do that with Beth present. It wasn’t ideal death-bed conversation and she’d tell him so too! Despite her impulsive business decisions, he didn’t underestimate his daughter’s intelligence. And he didn’t want to isolate her any further than he had already.
To hear him discussing a potential legal suit – in France at that – she’d instantly realise the cost of something so big. Taking a case to the European courts would run to tens of thousands if they lost. Naturally she would resent his decision to invest in Ed’s cause over hers. And he couldn’t risk explaining why he was doing it. That would lead him into further trouble. Would Beth resent him for interfering? Would she turn her back on him forever? Love was an enigma – one of the few things that had withstood the test of time.
Beth stared at him, an expectant look in her eye. He still hadn’t responded to her question.
“Dad? Coffee and a cream bun before we go to see Ed?”
“Eh, I’m not sure.” He pulled back the sleeve of his jumper and checked the time on his watch. “I hadn’t intended staying so long. I’m watching my cholesterol – staying away from coffee and buns to be honest. What if I go and sit with him for a few minutes and then let you make your visit?” The health bit is true, he thought, remembering the last warning he’d received about his diet.
Stung by his refusal, Beth didn’t argue. “Whatever, Dad. I’m trying to build bridges here but it’s obvious you’re not interested.”
Reaching out, he placed a hand on her arm. “That’s not it, Beth. I’ll always be interested.”
“Just not enough to make the time to show it, Dad,” she bit back at him. “Same as when we were kids and you’d rather be anywhere than spend some time at home with us.” She turned away from him, hiding her disappointment.
“Beth, wait!” he called softly.
He stared after her as she walked away.
Beth sat by the cafeteria window, keeping an eye on her father’s Mercedes, determined to stay away from her brother-in-law’s room until Frank had left. Her feelings hurt yet again, she wasn’t about to give him another opportunity to push her away.
“Bad day?”
Her head shot up. A woman of about the same age as herself stood next to her table. Shaved head, no eyebrows and a pale complexion – her story didn’t require much explanation. Beth was jolted out of her self-pitying mood. She’s the one asking me how I’m doing. She’s the one offering me sympathy. I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself. There’s nothing stopping me doing anything I want. I can leave anytime I want. I can jump in puddles, skip and play hopscotch, dance to my favourite tune, eat and drink what I want and yet here I am acting like a spoilt child.
She smiled at the other lady. There wasn’t any point in denying she’d been fed up. “In my head it’s a bad day anyway,” she admitted.
“It’s all measurable,” the other girl said. “I’d be so happy if my family would relent to my cremation. You wouldn’t believe the arguments they’re putting up.”
Beth’s mouth dropped open. How could she respond to that nugget? “Would you like something to drink?” she offered instead.
Her companion giggled. “I’ve embarrassed you now, made you feel uncomfortable. Haven’t I?”
Beth smiled. “Not exactly the conversation I’d expected,” she admitted, gesturing toward the chair. “Join me?”
“For a few minutes. Got my tanning session in a few minutes.”
Again, Beth’s face reddened. This time, however, she didn’t shrink away. “How can you make a joke out of something so serious?”
“Laugh or cry? Which would you choose? The end result’s the same anyway.” She shrugged. “So, are you going to get me that drink you offered?”
Beth got to her feet, hoping she had enough change in her purse. “What’s your tipple?”
“Vodka and soda,” she said, watching Beth’s expression with interest. “Without the vodka.”
Returning to the table with a can of 7UP and glass of tap water, Beth placed the can in front of the other girl.
“Who’s here belonging to you?”
“Brother-in-law.”
“Has he long left?”
Again, her outspokenness instilled a moment’s unease. She hadn’t faced up to his mortality, too busy resenting Carl and worrying about keeping the banks at bay.
“Not long,” she replied. “I’m Beth. What’s your name?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied. “You won’t know me long enough to remember. A little while and I’m out of here.”
“Going home?”
The other girl looked at her a moment, a ghost of a smile on her lips, a faraway look in her eyes.
“Oh!” said Beth. “Ah no. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? I’m not. I’m fed up of being prodded and poked, treated like a guinea pig. There has to be something better. Even if it’s only sleep. Has to be an improvement. The life I want to live is no longer an option for me.” She picked up the can.
Beth watched her hand shake as she brought the can to her lips, her tiny wrists appearing from beneath long pyjama sleeves. She fought back a gasp. The girl was skin and bone, taking one sip requiring a huge effort.
“Summer?”
Both girls looked up, Beth’s companion slowly getting to her feet when the nurse called her name again. Before moving away, she turned to Beth, her words filled with sincerity.
“Go live your life. Live it for both of us. Don’t waste it sitting around with a long face drinking tasteless coffee.” She extended her hand and shook Beth’s.
Watching Summer shuffle away, linking the nurse’s arm for support, her chit-chat making the nurse chuckle, Beth was intrigued. So close to
death, she thought, yet still in high spirits and interested in offering others the benefit of her advice.
Glancing toward the car park, Beth noticed with regret that her father’s car was no longer in the spot opposite the window. Her anger had dissipated, her exchange with Summer altering her perspective. She’d acted childishly and was humbled now by the other girl’s intense courage. Ridiculous behaviour at my age, she thought, planning on finding Frank and apologising as soon as she left the hospital.
Sympathising with the mixture of emotions Ed must be experiencing, she wondered why he’d summoned her for a private visit. Whatever his reasons, she was about to find out.
Chapter 35
“You should go shopping, Beth,” Ed smiled when she entered the room.
“I’m not sure that’s meant as a compliment?” Though her tone was severe, her lips shaped into a smile as she bent to kiss his cheek.
“That coat you’re wearing is enormous. Why hide such a slight frame in something so – so – shapeless?”
Beth laughed. Ed’s passion for style would obviously continue until he drew his last breath.
“You should be wearing my sculpted pieces. Designed with a figure like yours in mind.”
She didn’t like to tell him that she couldn’t afford them at cost price, never mind purchase them off the rails. “Ah, my life’s too dull. Who’d appreciate them in the local Centra when I go to buy the bread and milk?”