A Face To Die For

by Jan Warburton

  'A girl… oh, that's lovely, Oliver,' I said with gentle pleasure. I couldn't feel bitter about things any more. Not now that Kate, the source of my resentment, was dead. All I felt now was deep shock and compassion for Oliver, and that I wanted to offer him my help. 'OK, I'll be over in about an hour.'

  'That's fine. Thanks.'

  *

  Cigarette smoke pervaded the flat as Oliver let me in. He was red-eyed, unshaven and looked haggard and distraught. I put my arm around him as we walked together into the kitchen. He slumped down sobbing at the table, in front of an empty glass and a huge ashtray containing several cigarette buts. Beside it was a load of used Kleenex tissues.

  'Coffee? Shall I make some, or do you want something stronger?' I asked, standing beside him, my arm resting across his sagging, shuddering shoulders. Tears pricked my eyes. It was the nearest I'd come to crying since hearing of Kate's death and I still didn't know why or how she'd died.

  He gulped. 'Coffee please, I've already had a couple of vodkas. Can't get drunk. I've to go to the hospital later to see the baby. Bloody great isn't it? I should be feeling so happy at her birth. Yet all I can feel instead is this aching sadness and desperation.' Tears again rolled in rivulets down his cheeks and nose. Mucous dripped from his nostrils. I passed him a fresh tissue from the box.

  'I know, darling. But you mustn't feel too desperate.' The paper hanky was soon added to the pile already on the table. I collected them up and threw them away before switching on the kettle.

  'Oh, Annabel! My mind's in such turmoil,' he blurted out between sniffs as I got two mugs ready. 'I mean, how the hell am I going to cope with a baby all on my own? I hardly had any contact with Luke when he was small, not until he was four anyway. I don't know the first thing about babies. It's a bloody nightmare!’ He kept running his hands repeatedly through his tousled hair. ‘What'll I do? How can I cope? The child will need a mother, for heaven's sake!’

  'First things first, Oliver.' I handed him a black coffee.

  Adding milk and sugar to mine, I sat down opposite him; stretching out my free hand to take his. He was inconsolable. I had to soothe him somehow.

  'How is the baby by the way? Is she very tiny?'

  Tears started to well in his eyes again as he looked at me. He took a huge gulp of his coffee. Dragging his hand away from mine, he rubbed the back of it across his eyes: he sniffed and gave me a weak smile.

  'She's terribly small, only three and a half pounds, smaller than they expected apparently. Had to go into an incubator, but they think she'll be okay… poor little mite. She just lies there all connected up with tubes and wires to a monitor, struggling to survive. And now she'll have no mother to come home to.'

  'She'll be fine darling,' I said, squeezing his hand. 'There are such things as nannies you know? How long will she have to stay there?'

  He shrugged. 'Till everything's functioning properly, I suppose.’ He gave a quivering sigh. ‘Y’know, Kate only lived for a few hours afterwards,' he said, looking at me, his voice on the verge of a sob as he continued. 'They put her into Intensive Care because she'd haemorrhaged so badly during labour and the operation. I think it had been quite tricky for them, stopping the bleeding and getting her stabilised. The awful thing is, when I left to come home last night, she was okay. I saw her briefly, but she was still asleep. So I came away thinking the worst was over.'

  He paused again, giving another quivering sigh, but he seemed a bit calmer now, more in control.

  'Then about four-thirty the hospital rang to say she was haemorrhaging internally again and would I go straight there. But she was dead by the time I got there. She'd literally bled to death, Annabel! She was so weak they simply couldn't stem it in time. Oh God!' He sank his face into his hands again, heaving huge, gulping sobs. 'Bastard abortionist was to blame all those years back, I reckon. That was partly the reason for her difficult pregnancy too. Christ, I could murder whoever it was!'

  As I watched him my own grief suddenly overcame me as tears streamed down my cheeks. Grasping each other’s hands we both cried for Kate. Despite my recent bad feelings towards her I could never have wished this to happen. I was weeping for Oliver too, wishing I could take away some of his pain. But I knew, having gone through the same agony over Luigi’s death, it was something he had to endure in order to come out of it on the other side ... and just as I had done, he would get through somehow, in his own way.

  *

  Later, after several coffees and more cigarettes, Oliver assured me he was feeling better and that I should go.

  'I'm all right now, Annabel. Thanks, you've been an angel, and I've been such a pathetic, drivelling idiot. Must pull myself together now and get off to the hospital to see my baby daughter. I couldn't take in much last night. I should go and look at her again at least, although I’m not able to hold her.’

  'Have you thought about a name yet?'

  'Yes, Kate always wanted Emma, if it was a girl. So I guess I'll call her that, or should I choose Kate now? What do you think?'

  'No, Emma's sweet, and I really think you should still call her that, if that's what Kate wanted. It's up to you; it’s not my decision.

  'Yeah, you're right. We'll stick to Emma, and Kate can be her second name. Emma Kate.' He gave me a wavering smile.

  'Good, that's one positive step ahead at least. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to come to the hospital with you?'

  'No, I'll be okay. I think I need to be by myself for a bit now. Get my thoughts together, and decide how to sort my life out. Oh hell, I'd forgotten; what about the funeral!'

  'Forget that for today. You get yourself off to the hospital to see your daughter first. Then later, why don't you give me a ring and, if you like, we'll sort out all the funeral arrangements together. I'll help however I can,' I whispered.

  He kissed my cheek. 'Thanks. I might take you up on that. Let's see how I go, eh?'

  As he looked at me through blotchy, swollen eyes, I knew he was going to need my help more than he possibly realised.

  *

  I went along with Oliver two days later to see baby Emma.

  'She is a very little mite; even for a three week prem,' the sister of the baby unit quietly remarked as we were welcomed in.

  Through the special viewing window I could just see her beneath the incubator dome, a shock of spiky dark hair, a tiny, ruddy face with a frail, skinny little body in an oversized nappy. All over her, attached by pads, were tubes and wires and the gentle blip of the monitor - about the only sign of life from the minute, sleeping scrap.

  Unprepared for this, I was overwhelmed. This was surely not how a new baby should look? Odd feelings and unknown emotions tugged at my heartstrings. My throat tightened and my eyes filled with tears.

  CHAPTER 32

  Oliver insisted Kate's funeral should be as quiet as possible, involving only the closest of friends and family.

  Jean, her mother - a sad looking woman who had clearly once been quite a beauty - arrived from France with her current husband Paul, a middle aged artist of minor repute. She looked to be in very poor health after years of apparent alcohol addiction. But I felt it was all the more touching that the woman had made the effort to attend in such a frail condition, bearing in mind how little contact I knew there’d been between mother and daughter.

  Shock over Kate's death resounded throughout the fashion business but Oliver's wish to be left in peace to come to terms with his grief was respected by everyone. He was having great difficulty in facing people. I was nevertheless one of the few friends to whom he turned to discuss his emotions. And so, at his urgent request, I called round for coffee a few days after the funeral.

  'I feel totally desolate, Annabel...so drained of all feeling,' he confided, looking ashen and sunken-eyed. 'In fact I don't seem to have any true emotions left for anyone or anything any more; not even for the baby. What's wrong with me?' His sad eyes searched mine.

  'Well, from my own experience, and particularly bearing in
mind your circumstances, I would say it's quite understandable,' I said, as I poured hot water onto the coffee granules and added cream. The puny scrap of an infant I'd seen in the incubator six days earlier hadn't exactly instilled any maternal feelings in me either. But I couldn't tell him that. 'Once the baby is fit enough to come out of the incubator, and especially when you can hold and cuddle her, I'm sure it will make a difference.'

  I handed him a mug of coffee and he wrapped his hands around it, seeming to gain comfort from the warmth. I continued: 'But you mustn't worry, because grief is naturally consuming you at present. There'll be time later for all the rest, believe me. I'm quite sure little Emma won't hold it against you. She is fully occupied at present just struggling to survive.'

  I knew all he needed was reassurance at this stage and time to adjust to things.

  Oliver gave me a weak smile over the rim of his mug. 'You're right I suppose. I expect my feelings towards her will be different once she comes home. Oh hell... that brings me to another point. I'm going to need a nanny. An agency is sending several over for me to interview tomorrow.' His eyes instantly took on a look of panic. 'Please, could you possibly be here to help me choose? The idea's so bloody daunting. How the hell am I going to select exactly the right person, particularly as she'll be needed full time. I'd be so grateful to have your input with the interviews. Can you spare the time? Please Annabel?'

  'Of course I can,' I answered, laughing gently at his desperate expression. 'I'm no expert mind you, but I'll do my best.' I was glad he wanted my help. Despite my own lack of personal experience, I knew Vanessa would be able to put me wise about which questions to ask and what to look out for in a good nanny. She was currently on her third, and would obviously know the pitfalls to avoid.

  *

  Later that evening, during a chat with Vanessa, I heard to my delight that at last a man had been charged with my abduction with the children.

  'He was apprehended earlier today,' she said. 'By someone making a citizen's arrest as he attempted another kidnapping in, would you believe, the same multi-story car park where he accosted you.'

  'Good God!'

  'I know! He used exactly the same tactics as he had with you, darling. Anyway, later, under questioning, he confessed to your abduction too,' said Vanessa. 'Inspector Hall said that he works in the kitchens of a transport cafe somewhere near Bagshot and that he has a history of mental disorder. Apparently they've been trying to contact you today to ask you down to do a formal identification.'

  'OK, I'll ring them first thing tomorrow. Thank God they've got him. That figures though, about him working in a cafe. He did smell of stale cooking fat.' I shuddered, recalling it. 'I wonder what will happen to him.'

  'Well, Rowley thinks there will be a trial. Of course it's too soon yet to know, but you probably won't even be needed to give evidence, since it's extremely likely that his defence will enter a guilty plea. He'll probably get a custodial sentence and be remanded in care to undergo psychiatric treatment, I shouldn't wonder,' said Vanessa.

  'Good. Best place for him. I know he didn't actually hurt the children or me, but he did knife poor Bob at the garage, and that could have been very nasty. I'm just so glad to know that he's safely under lock and key at last. If he is a nut case, then who knows what he's capable of!'

  'Or, more to the point, what he could have done to you and the children darling. It simply doesn't bear thinking about!'

  ‘I know.’ I shuddered again at the thought.

  I went on to ask about the children and, of course, to pick her brains about choosing a nanny for Oliver. Before I rang off I asked what news there was of Alex.

  It seemed they hadn't seen a great deal of him recently since he left the Surrey nursing home. As far as she knew he was only very slowly coming to terms with his incapacity, although recently he'd been fitted with a new revolutionary type of artificial leg that afforded him much more mobility. He was apparently now managing quite well in his own ground floor flat in Knightsbridge with the help of a nurse and more recently had returned to take on some part-time duties again in the London Karos offices. This was slowly getting him motivated and feeling useful again.

  Over the past year I'd constantly shied away from going to see him. For cowardly reasons really because I still didn't think I could face up to accepting the way he was now; not after how I had known him. I felt awfully guilty about it because, of course, I knew it must have been absolute hell for him. I also felt that after our surprise reunion at Vanessa's, seeing each other again might perhaps be quite unfair on him too. We had, after all, made our peace with each other that weekend and I’d felt it had meant a lot to both of us. I didn't want to risk spoiling things again. And I suppose what I feared most was the possibility of him thinking that now six months grieving period for Luigi had elapsed; I might possibly be even ready to pick up a relationship of some sort again with him. I knew I could never do that and I didn't want to hurt him.

  But Vanessa insisted he was anxious to see me. 'Darling, Montpelier Square is only a stone's throw from Beauchamp Place! Do try to pop along some time. He'd so love it.'

  'I'll do my best,' I replied reluctantly.

  So, the next evening, after finishing at work for the day, I found I could spare an hour so I plucked up courage and wandered across the Brompton Road in the direction of Montpelier Square. I couldn't have timed it better. As I approached the address I'd been given, Alex was just alighting from a taxi.

  'Annabel!' he called. 'Great to see you!'

  He was still very thin and gaunt but was nonetheless managing extremely well on his pins, with help of only crutches now. He looked cheerful enough and, as he straightened himself up, I leaned forward to kiss him. At this point a pretty young woman rushed out from the building. Alex looked towards her, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.

  'Hi, honey!' he called out to her. 'I say, good timing as always, Annabel. I wanted you to meet Jane. Jane, this is Annabel Spencer.'

  Smiling, Jane shook my hand. 'I’m so pleased to meet you! So you're the famous fashion designer who broke Alex's heart, are you?' Momentarily I was shocked at the comment but she quickly squeezed my arm. 'Don't worry. I know everything about Alex. After all, I've been his nurse for the past year. He tells me you are the best of friends again now and I'm pleased to hear it.' Her eyes glistened as she looked at him and I noticed his twinkle back. Do I detect a love affair here, I wondered?

  We went indoors and we all chatted easily while Jane made some us some tea. Soon it became even more apparent that the pair of them were indeed lovers.

  Alex was obviously pleased to see me though. 'I'm glad you’ve come, Annabel. It’s about time too! But I realised how hard it must have been for you after Luigi went. How are you doing? Vanessa tells me you've coped remarkably well, considering the shock it must have been for you.'

  'Yes, I suppose I have really. But I wouldn't have been the best of company for you in recent months Alex. I do hope you understood why I've not come before?' Liar, I thought, but it sounded good. He nodded, with a warm glow in his beautiful, dark eyes. Then he looked across at Jane as she began pouring the tea.

  'Well, as it happens, you've picked an excellent day to call. I'd like you to be one of the first to know.' He grinned, and I could see the old Alex showing through again. 'Jane and I have just got engaged, so how about joining us tonight for supper?'

  I wasn't quite expecting this! I flashed a smile. 'That's brilliant news, Alex. Congratulations. I'm so happy for you.' And I was genuinely pleased, if a little shaken. After all my previous anxiety, it had instantly solved the problem about seeing him again. Things couldn't have worked out better. I knew we could stay good friends forever now.

  I explained that unfortunately I could only stay three-quarters of an hour, telling them all about Kate's recent death and how I was needed to help Oliver out. I promised instead to have dinner with them both in a few days’ time.

  It was a great relief to know things were wo
rking out so well for Alex. He'd had a rough time recovering and what could be better than to have found Florence Nightingale and future wife rolled into one. He and Jane seemed ideally suited and she was obviously well equipped to cope with all his needs, which I imagined would not always be an easy task. But clearly she was more than happy to take him on. The romance, they told me, had blossomed first in hospital.

  'So she has seen me at my absolute worst,' chuckled Alex. 'And when I left hospital I soon realised I couldn't live without her. So you moved in here as my nurse and lover, didn't you, honey?' She nodded and he took her hand. As he kissed it their love for each other was clearly evident. This was the best thing that could have happened to him and I had no need to feel guilty any more.

  *

  March, as usual, turned out to be utterly hectic. Not only did I have the Autumn/Winter collection shows, including the latest Silk Wrappings range, but I was introducing the Winter Cruise and Solar swimwear ranges too. I wanted to give them a memorable launch and Holly as the new Silk Wrappings face was busy on photo shoots and promotional appearances everywhere.

  Baby Emma was at last allowed home into the capable arms of her nanny, Sarah Goss, a motherly, middle-aged woman whom Oliver and I had finally chosen from the five applicants the agency had sent along for us to interview.

  I liked her personable, confident manner instantly, and she had excellent references from her previous employers in Chiswick, where she had cared for twin boys until they had started full-time education at boarding school. It all seemed a good recommendation to me. Oliver, to my relief, also favoured the older applicant instead of any of the other younger ones.

  'Mainly because of her vast experience and warm, ‘mumsy’ appearance,' he said. 'I must be able to trust her.'

  I agreed. However, my own reason for selecting her, prompted by Vanessa's advice, was that a younger woman living-in might easily distract Oliver. After all, look what happened to Alex and his nurse! This had to be a consideration, since his grief would eventually fade, and knowing Oliver as well as I did, I expected his masculine instincts would inevitably again come to the fore. Besides, any young woman was bound to find him attractive and my major concern was that Emma's Nanny should give her undivided attention to the infant, not to her father.