Her thoughts were interrupted as Ella stirred in Andrew’s arms. Maxine picked up her bag. “I’ll ring,” she mouthed to Andrew and she left Ford Auctioneers as quickly and quietly as possible.
As she reached the end of the street Maxine heard an ambulance siren in the distance. It would not be long now before Ella Ford would be taken to the hospital. Maxine tried not to feel resentful of the fact that Andrew would be by his wife’s side, holding her hand, brushing her hair back from her forehead, being there for her. Loving her. She tried but she did not succeed. She walked to her apartment, ignoring the stares and remarks and whistles. Nothing impinged on her dark mood. By the time she reached her apartment block she had one fact settled in her mind. Andrew Ford was the only man she had ever loved and even though she had been with him for only a short length of time, Maxine Doran knew in her heart that he was the only man she would ever love.
Chapter 15
Ella heard the sounds first. Strange and varied they impinged on her consciousness. She tried to sort through the layers, from the whisper of rubber-soled shoes on tiled floors to the high-pitched beeping she recognised as a monitor. They were familiar background noises to someone who had spent time in hospital. She sniffed and breathed in the mixed smells of disinfectant and mass-catered meals. Her returning memory went into overdrive. The accident! A four-wheel drive enmeshed in a stone wall, a woman bleeding. A child somewhere in the wreckage. Pain, spreading from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers. Burning, stabbing pain, trapped inside her body. The woman in the 4x4, the woman with the smashed head, began to drift towards her, reaching out to her. Ella tried to force her eyes to open, tried to replace the writhing nightmare with the solidity of real images. She heard voices. Someone caught her hand. Someone else said “Sedative”. Her muscles relaxed as her system was flooded with chemical tranquillity. Peace drifted into her mind. She slept.
When Ella woke again her room was awash with bright light. Sunlight. She reckoned it must be morning or early afternoon. She tried to sit up but pain shot through her head and she flopped back against her pillow again.
Andrew was suddenly standing over her, his face anxious and pale.
“Ella! How do you feel?”
For a moment she felt happy. Then the questions began to tumble around in her head. Where was she, why was she here, how long had she been in this condition of suspended animation?
“Just rest now,” Andrew said. “You fainted in the office last evening and banged your head on the door. You’ve had stitches in the wound but you’ll be fine.”
He was lying, hiding something. Now he was pressing the emergency bell.
“Why did you do that?”
“The doctor wanted to see you as soon as you woke.”
Immediately the door opened and a man in a white coat walked quickly to her bedside. It was Dr Peter Sheehan.
“What are you doing here? I fired you.”
Peter laughed. “That answers one of my questions, Ella. At least you have some re-call. Now tell me, can you remember what happened immediately before you came in here?”
“I fainted in the office and hit my head.”
“And before you fainted?”
Ella turned to Andrew and raised an eyebrow. He just stared blankly at her. She shrugged.
“We’ll go over the events of yesterday. See if we can jog your memory,” Peter suggested.
“Am I in a psychiatric hospital?”
“No. You’re in the City General. I’m on call here. Besides, Andrew asked me to monitor your recovery. Is that okay with you?”
As Ella looked into his clear green eyes he flashed his white smile. She figured that if she needed a shrink it might as well be a handsome one. Peter Sheehan certainly fitted that bill.
She smiled at him. “I can always fire you again if I want to. And as for yesterday, I remember closing the deal on Jason Laide’s house, then I went to Ballyhaven.”
“Why did you go there?” Andrew asked sharply.
“To walk the site with Jason Laide. I agreed to sell it to him.”
“You what! You had no right!”
Peter turned to Andrew and looked sternly at him. “Andrew, we need calm now, please. Let Ella speak. You can discuss business later.”
Andrew nodded agreement and bowed his head but Ella could sense his anger.
“I went to the pub in Ballyhaven with Jason and then drove to the office,” she continued. “I saw that the lights were on in the back so I knew Andrew was there.”
Andrew looked up and their eyes met. Ella saw guilt and apprehension in her husband’s eyes. He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting to find out just how much she remembered. Peter Sheehan was probably aware of it. She looked away from Andrew then, realising that she was adding paranoia to her already impressive list of mental illnesses.
As she turned towards Peter Sheehan, the memory of what had happened in the office came flooding back. Her fingers grabbed a bunch of stiff white hospital sheet and curled around it as she remembered the image of Karen Trevor, walking towards her, getting closer than she ever had before. Almost touching her, almost dragging her into the world which only the living dead inhabited. She remembered the fear, the sensation of icy cold, the darkness engulfing her. The fear and cold gripped her again now and she began to shiver. Peter Sheehan reached down and loosened her fingers from their grip on the sheet. His touch was warm and comforting.
“I think that’s enough for now, Ella. You should get some rest. We’ll talk more later.”
Ella smiled gratefully at him. She felt drained. Sleep was exactly what she needed now.
“You look as if you need sleep too, Andrew,” she said. “Go home. I’ll see you later.”
Andrew kissed her on the cheek and then both men left the room. Ella wriggled around until she found a reasonably comfortable position on the hard mattress. Then she fell into a peaceful sleep.
* * *
Andrew and Peter watched through the glass panes on the door until they knew Ella had settled into a deep sleep.
“Have you time for a coffee?” Andrew asked.
Peter nodded and led the way to the staff canteen. “A bit quieter here,” he said. “Easier to chat.”
When they were seated Andrew regretted not going straight home. He felt uncomfortable surrounded by doctors and nurses. Peter was gazing at him with a superior attitude. Not judging. Not condemning. Just knowing, like he had always done. Even in short pants.
“What in the hell is wrong with my wife, Peter? Will she ever recover from her accident?”
Peter lifted his cup and drank some coffee. Careful. Honing and polishing his words before he allowed them the freedom to fly. “She was involved in a pretty major trauma. Recovery takes time. She needs a lot of support and understanding.”
“Are you saying I don’t give her the support she needs? Jesus! Have you any idea what life has been like for me over the past year? First the accident itself and the tragedy of the loss of life and then not knowing whether Ella was going to live or die. And finally, when she came home, months of living with her zombie-like state...”
Andrew suddenly became aware that his voice had risen, attracting curious stares from the people around them. The thought crossed his mind that he must sound as mad as Ella. He was immediately struck by guilt. How could he think like that about his wife? He bowed his head and tried not to feel Peter Sheehan’s analytical gaze.
“Would you like to tell me exactly what happened to Ella last night?” Peter asked. “It could be helpful in her treatment to have a full account of events.”
“I was in the office with a client. Ella came to the door, looked at both of us, went into some kind of shock or trance or something, fainted and banged her head.”
“A client?”
Andrew glared back at his one-time best friend. “Yes. A client. Somebody interested in making a significant investment in a property we are selling. At least she was. After all this fuss –”
“What are you implying? That Ella witnessed some impropriety? That I’m lying to you about what Ella saw?”
Peter did not answer. Andrew nodded his head slowly. Peter Sheehan knew. He knew that there was another woman in Andrew’s life and that Ella had seen that other woman in the office.
“I’m not making any judgements,” Peter said. “I just need to know all the facts so that I can help Ella in the best way possible.”
“I don’t want to hurt Ella. I still love her. At least I love who she was. I don’t think I can live with the person she has become since the accident. She’s cold. Totally self-absorbed.”
“And the client?”
“She’s warm. Beautiful. Fun but mysterious too. A fascinating woman. Way out of my league. I haven’t known her long but I am savouring every minute of sharing I have with her. She’ll soon move on. So do you think Ella knows?”
Peter nodded assent. “She knows subconsciously that there is someone else in your life. She’s having difficulty admitting it to herself.”
“So what do I do? Stop seeing . . . my friend?”
“That’s totally your decision. But as Ella’s therapist I think the best way to help her is by being honest with her. Then maybe she can be honest with herself and begin to truly recover.”
They were silent then as the buzz of other people’s conversation drifted around them. Andrew stood. He was exhausted and stressed. He could no longer tolerate Peter Sheehan’s self-righteous attitude or the smell of the hospital. He offered his hand to his one-time friend.
“Thank you for looking after Ella. We’ll talk soon.”
He turned and walked away before Peter could read the despair in his eyes.
* * *
It seemed to Andrew that he had only just fallen asleep when his alarm rang. He jumped out of bed. Two hours of rest was all he could afford to take. He must get into the office before going back to the hospital. As he showered his head buzzed with all the things he needed urgently to do. The Coxes were back. They would want an answer about the Ballyhaven site. He’d have to put them off until he found out exactly what Ella had said to Jason Laide. And there was yet another problem. Jason Laide’s engineer’s report on Manor House was due today and his final decision on purchase would be made. But judging from Maxine’s conversation last night before Ella’s dramatics, it seemed that Maxine too was a serious contender to be the new owner of Manor House. Fucking Jason Laide! He seemed to be popping up everywhere.
When he got into the office Andrew knew from the discreet enquiries and pitying glances of his staff that they had not fully believed the story about Ella tripping and banging her head. They thought that she had had a nervous breakdown. It was written on every concerned face. He was glad to get into his own office and close the door on their sympathy.
His desk was piled with memos. Not for the first time he reminded himself that he and Ella kept too tight a hold on the reins of power. His staff were competent. There was no reason not to delegate more and then things would not be so fraught in emergencies. Like now. Like every second week since the blasted accident. That car crash had been tragic, yes. For Rob Trevor. But even he was moving on with his life now. Only Ella had to continue with the melodrama, reliving those few seconds of slaughter, wallowing in it.
Before Andrew could gather his wits together to start work, there was a knock on the door of his office. Without waiting for an invitation, Jason Laide walked in. He dropped a file on the desk and pulled a chair out for himself.
“My engineer’s report on Manor House,” he said. “There’s a lot of work to be done on that place. It’s not in as good condition as you told me.”
There was a challenge in the icy blue eyes. Andrew stared back and felt his instinctive dislike of this man come to the fore. He was too tired, too troubled, to find his neutral business tone.
“I don’t remember telling you anything about Manor House, Mr Laide. To the best of my knowledge, you’ve been dealing with my wife.”
“True. Where is Ella? Is she out on some job?”
“Actually, no. My wife tripped and banged her head last night. I’m afraid she’s in hospital at the moment.”
Andrew caught a flicker of annoyance cross Jason’s face. Ella’s absence was obviously an inconvenience to him. He must be finding it easy to wind her around his little finger, to bend her to his will.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jason said. “She’s very accident prone, isn’t she? Which hospital is she in?”
“She just needs rest at the moment. She’ll be fine. Is there anything I could help you with, Mr Laide?”
“Read that report. I’ll have to spend at least two hundred thousand rewiring, damp-proofing, insulating and re-roofing Manor House. I’d want that knocked off your asking price.”
Andrew picked up the detailed engineer’s report and pretended to read it. Words and figures flicked past him in a blur. His main concern at the moment was to stall Jason Laide until he knew exactly what Maxine wanted to do. He looked across at the money-rich, charm-deprived man and tried to smile.
“Leave this with me, Mr Laide. We’ll see what we can do.”
“Don’t take too long. I won’t leave my offer on the table forever. I have a lot of projects in the pot at the moment. I want to get this one wound up.”
Andrew nodded, waiting for Jason to mention the other projects or to talk about the Ballyhaven site. Instead, Jason stood and pushed back his chair.
“I’ll be going to Salzburg at the weekend to see Sharon. I want to be able to tell her that I have secured Manor House for her. Okay?”
Jason didn’t wait for an answer. He just assumed Andrew’s assent and went out the door, banging it roughly behind him.
When Jason got as far as the front desk he stopped and smiled at the receptionist.
“Bad luck that Mrs Ford had another accident, isn’t it? Where did it happen?”
The girl looked at him with a puzzled frown and then obviously figured that since he had been in the office with Mr Ford it was all right to discuss Ella with him.
“Yes. It’s unfortunate. It happened in the office here.”
“Lucky she was so near a hospital.”
“True. I believe the ambulance arrived in minutes.”
Jason winked at the girl and moved on. City General was the only hospital minutes away. He now knew where to find Ella.
* * *
Maxine smiled broadly when she cut the ribbon. The applause rippled around as yet another shopping centre was declared officially open. She could play this part in her sleep by now. The celebrity role. Another deposit in her savings account. A few more minutes of posing for cameras, scissors in hand, a sip of champagne and then she could decently slip away, her obligation fulfilled. Glancing at her watch she knew the taxi she had ordered would soon be here for her. She quickly said her goodbyes and left the group of managers and hangers-on to finish the drinks and hors-d’oeuvres.
When she was seated in the taxi, Maxine got out her phone and dialled Andrew’s number.
“How is she?” she asked as soon as he had said hello.
“Sleeping,” he said and Maxine could not gauge from his tone whether that was good news or not.
“Is she still in hospital?”
“Yes. I’ll be going to see her shortly. Where are you? Could you pop into the office soon?”
“I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes,” Maxine said and was taken aback at how strongly her heart beat at the thought of seeing Andrew. She was even more surprised when, fifteen minutes later, she sat opposite him and saw how pale his face was and how dark the rings underneath his eyes. She wanted so much to reach out and touch him, to hold him in her arms and soothe away his deep sadness.
“Has she said anything about us?” she asked.
Andrew shook his head. “No. But her psychologist thinks she knows. He didn’t ask me directly but he guessed and I didn’t deny it. He said she’s just not admitti
ng it to herself.”
“Well, she saw us, didn’t she? She must know.”
“She saw us in the office, yes. But she had no reason to believe you were anything other than a client. I really don’t know what goes on in her head any more. I think she probably blanks out when she doesn’t want to face reality. Anyway, enough about Ella and her problems. What about the conversation we were having last night before the drama? Are you really serious about buying Manor House?”
Maxine tossed her blonde hair back and lifted her chin. She was annoyed at the implication that she was only playing at investing in Manor House. It was her accountant Charles Rea all over and she had not expected this from Andrew.
“I’ll start again and hope that this time you take me seriously. I’ve seen the property, I have plans for it. I’ve spoken to my accountant and I can afford it. I want Manor House. Is there any reason why I can’t put a bid in for it?”
Andrew flinched. He had made her angry and he never wanted that. But Maxine would have to understand just what a huge undertaking she was considering. And just who she was up against.
“There’s already a bid in on the property. Ella was handling it. It’s fairly far advanced. The client seems to have huge resources and I think he would not hesitate to outbid any opposition.”
“Andrew, you know what Manor House means to me. I’ll start off by offering ten thousand more than your present bid. I can up that as necessary. Apart from my business plan for opening a restaurant, there is the coincidence or whatever of the portrait of Harriet Wellsley. Manor House is more than just an investment to me.”
Andrew unlocked the top drawer of his desk and took out the copy photograph of Lady Harriet he had made for himself before giving the original to Maxine. He glanced from it to the girl sitting in front of him now and was struck again by the resemblance. More than just a passing resemblance. The only thing distinguishing one from the other was the way they were dressed. And over one hundred years. Extraordinary.
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