by Penny Jordan
For a moment Alice thought that Stuart was actually going to turn round and walk away from her, but instead he rocked back on his heels and said thickly, ‘Oh, God!’
‘I thought you were having an affair…You were seen eating out with an attractive woman.’
The words hung between them, ludicrous in view of everything that was going on, Alice knew, but somehow she had not been able to stop herself from saying them.
‘An affair?’ Stuart stared at her. ‘Are you crazy? An affair? Who the hell would want a failure like me? A wreck like me, who can’t even get it up any more—God, Alice…The only woman I could have been seen with would have been Arlette Salcombe, and she’s the one who had to break the news of my redundancy to me.’
There was no mistaking the truth in his immediate shocked denial, nor her own immediate surge of relief, Alice acknowledged weakly.
‘Stuart, let’s go inside. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’
‘Zoë is what?’ Stuart demanded angrily, raking his hand through his hair as he glared at Alice. ‘Oh, come on, Alice, just because she has a drink and then crashes the car that doesn’t make her an alcoholic. For God’s sake, I had an uncle who was one, so I do know what I’m talking about. My father was so ashamed of him that in the end he simply refused to have anything to do with him. Died a raving lunatic!’
‘An uncle? You never mentioned him to me.’ Alice frowned. To the best of her knowledge, Stuart’s father had been an only son.
‘My father had forbidden us to mention his name. Damned scrounger and a coward. Dad always said that he only started drinking because he was too damned afraid to act like a man during the war. He used to turn up at the house, filthy and drunk, ranting and raving that my father had ruined his life, claiming that Dad had always been the favourite. My grandparents were as ashamed of him as Dad. And in fact I think they were relieved when he died.’
‘Oh, Stuart.’ Alice bit her lip, instinctively feeling a small pang of sympathy for the man who had obviously felt unloved and rejected by his family. ‘The doctor I saw at the surgery did tell me that alcoholism can be inherited.’
‘Doctor, what bloody doctor?’ Stuart stormed. ‘For God’s sake Alice it’s a bloody good lawyer that Zoë needs, not some doctor!’
As she listened to Stuart rage and bluster Alice wondered if he realised how much his reaction gave away how afraid he was. Stuart had never been very good at dealing with the kind of crises his childhood had not programmed and prepared him to understand. They had always been her responsibility.
‘Stuart might seem to be the strong one of your relationship, Alice,’ Maggie had once told her forth-rightly. ‘But in reality you are much, much stronger than he is. And whenever there is a real crisis, it’s you who has to deal with it, but you have been so brainwashed into putting Stuart onto a pedestal that you can’t see that for yourself.’
She remembered that she had been rather cross with Maggie at the time, but nevertheless the words had stayed with her.
‘Okay, I agree that Zoë liking a drink is not perhaps an ideal situation, but in all fairness, Alice, I have to say that the blame for that lies with you. You always were far too indulgent with her, and—’
‘Zoë does not like a drink, Stuart,’ Alice interrupted him firmly. ‘She needs a drink.’
‘Oh, now you’re being dramatic,’ Stuart blustered. ‘Typical woman. And anyway, this is Ian’s problem, not ours. Zoë is his wife now.’
‘Zoë is his wife,’ Alice agreed. ‘And she is also our daughter, and the boys’ mother, and the twins’ sister! And according to the doctor the problem actually belongs to Zoë and not to any of us. We can help and support her if she asks for our help and support, but first she has to acknowledge that she needs them, and in order to do that she has to acknowledge that she has an alcohol addiction!’
‘For God’s sake, you sound like some bloody do-gooder, Alice. Like I have just said, if Zoë has had too much to drink then right now what she needs is a damn good talking-to from her husband, and an even better lawyer. Fortunately for her, Ian will have access to the best that money can buy.’ He stopped speaking as he saw Alice shaking her head.
‘What is it? The silly little fool hasn’t gone and admitted to anything, has she?’
The temptation to tell him that she was far too much his daughter to do that was very hard for Alice to resist.
‘There’s a problem,’ she told him instead. ‘Zoë is refusing to tell Ian what has happened.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘Reading between the lines, it seems as though things aren’t going very well between them at the moment.’
‘Not tell him? Well, of course he’ll have to be told. And if you had any sense, Alice, you’d have done that already instead of wasting time going to see some bloody medic. Obviously I’m going to have to ring him myself! God, as though I didn’t already have enough to worry about. You realise that we’re probably going to lose this place, don’t you, if I don’t get a decent job soon? I had to remortgage to pay for Zoë’s university fees and the wedding!’
‘You never said,’ Alice protested in shock.
‘No sense in making a fuss about it. At the time I thought I’d make a killing out of those shares I bought from Tom Bracegirdle.’
Alice frowned as she listened to him. Stuart had always had a tendency to be too trusting where his old RAF chums were concerned, but she hadn’t realised that he had lost so much that he had had to raise capital by remortgaging their home.
‘Stuart, I really don’t think we should interfere and ring Ian,’ she warned, but Stuart was ignoring her.
Concerned as she was about Zoë, she felt an even more pressing urgency to be with Maggie and Stella. Right now they needed to be together, she recognised, for Nicki’s sake and for their own.
The machinery of life hummed and buzzed in the hospital’s intensive care unit. Joey and Nicki were in beds next to one another. Both were alive, but the specialist had made it plain that they had been rescued only just in time. They had been given drugs to combat the effect of the trauma they had experienced, and were deeply asleep.
Kit had gone to talk to the specialist about the events leading up to Nicki’s shocking attempt to take the lives of herself and her son. Laura told Maggie that it seemed from what the specialist had already said that he suspected that Nicki had been suffering from undiagnosed depression.
‘Dad told me that she’s already had a couple of bouts of depression, and of course losing the baby must have—’
‘What do you mean?’ Maggie interrupted her, shocked. ‘What baby?’
‘Oh, Maggie, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you didn’t know.’ Laura looked uncomfortable. ‘I just assumed…Nicki was pregnant—an accident—she and Dad had…words about it, more because Dad was in shock than anything else, but apparently a few days later Nicki lost the baby, and she blamed Dad for what happened.’
Nicki had been pregnant! And she hadn’t known. Hadn’t guessed. Hadn’t cared enough to realise, because she had been too wrapped up in her concerns, Maggie reflected inwardly in anguished guilt.
‘It seems from the letter that Nicki left for Dad that she had become obsessed by her fear that she would lose Joey too, and that she had to keep Joey safe. She’d decided that the world was too dangerous for him to be allowed to live in it. She thought that by killing herself and him she would be keeping him safe somehow.’
As they looked at one another Maggie unashamedly wept slow, sad tears for her friend who must have felt so lonely and alienated.
‘If she’s suffering from depression, at least they should be able to treat it, shouldn’t they?’ Laura asked Maggie anxiously.
‘I should think so,’ Maggie immediately comforted her.
‘When I took the boys round to Alice’s, she told me that Zoë is also here, in hospital,’ Laura confided.
When Maggie frowned, she explained uncomfortably, ‘I don’t know whether or not you are aware of it, but Zoë is…has…She
had too much to drink and drove the car,’ she told Maggie simply. ‘There was an accident, but fortunately no one was hurt. However…’
‘If you’re trying to find a tactful way of saying that Zoë has a drink problem, then let me put your mind at rest,’ Maggie said quietly. ‘All of us are aware that Zoë’s drinking was getting out of hand. None of us discussed it in front of Alice. We didn’t want to hurt or offend her. And I suppose, as well, we felt that we could be a little bit behind the times. Heavy drinking amongst young women wasn’t really an issue for us when we were young.’
In normal circumstances she would have been on the phone to Nicki immediately, discussing what could be done to help Alice through such a bad time, Maggie acknowledged.
Laura, who had been sitting simply watching her young half-brother, went out to have a break, leaving Maggie between Nicki’s and Joey’s beds.
After a while, on the periphery of her senses Maggie was aware of a faint movement from Nicki, a breath of a sigh, no more. But immediately she reacted to it, reaching out for her hand and holding it in both of her own as she told her, ‘Oh, Nicki, I am so sorry for not realising, sorry for not knowing, sorry for not listening better, but, most of all, sorry for not being the friend you deserved to have.
‘You are so precious to so many people, Nicki, so very much loved by all of us. We’ve depended on you, Nicki, used your strength and given you very little in return. You’ve enriched our lives immeasurably, but we’ve been too selfishly engrossed in our own small concerns to see your need.’
Maggie tensed as Nicki’s eyes suddenly opened.
‘Joey,’ she mouthed immediately.
Squeezing her hand reassuringly, Maggie moved so that Nicki could see across to the other bed.
‘He’s here with you, Nicki, and he’s fine,’ Maggie told her emotionally. ‘You’re both going to be fine.’
Almost immediately Nicki’s eyes closed again. Swallowing hard, Maggie forced back her tears, glancing up as the door opened and the nurse came in followed by Kit.
‘I’ll sit with her now, Maggie,’ Kit told her as the nurse started to check the monitors. ‘I’ve talked to the medical authorities, and, although they can’t be totally sure yet, they believe that Nicki did what she did because she was suffering very badly from depression,’ he whispered to her emotionally. ‘I blame myself. I should have realised…God, when I think how bloody callous I was. How damned selfish and uncaring…’
‘You were under a lot of pressure, Kit,’ Maggie reminded him softly. ‘And when it comes to blame…We should have guessed that something was wrong!’
‘The specialist says that as soon as Nicki is well enough, he’s going to recommend that she receives appropriate treatment: drug therapy, counselling, that kind of thing.’
‘We’ll all do everything that we can. You know that,’ Maggie promised him, bending down to kiss first Nicki and then Joey before turning to give Kit himself a brief hug.
Laura was walking back down the corridor as Maggie left the room.
‘I’ve just been to see Zoë,’ she told Maggie, shaking her head. ‘She says that she’s going to discharge herself and go home. She flatly refuses to accept that her drinking was in any way responsible for what happened. How are Nicki and Joey?’
Maggie smiled at her, thinking how much it would have meant to Nicki to know that Laura asked after her first.
‘They’re both going to be fine, and your father says the specialist has very high hopes that Nicki can be treated successfully for her depression.’
As she walked into the hospital foyer Maggie saw Dan walking towards her and for a moment her heart did a slow somersault that set her pulses racing.
‘Maggie! I came to see how Nicki and Joey are.’
‘They’re fine. But I’m sure that Kit would welcome some male support,’ Maggie told him. ‘I’m just on my way home.’
‘You’re driving yourself? Is that wise?’ Dan was frowning and Maggie knew instinctively that in another second he would insist that he should drive her.
‘Oliver will come for me. I only have to telephone him,’ she told him quickly, ‘and besides, I’m only pregnant, Dan, not ill.’
The moment she had said it Maggie wished she had not. She could see from the expression in Dan’s eyes just what effect her words had had on him.
‘Oh, Dan!’ she exclaimed remorsefully, reaching instinctively towards him. To her shock he stepped back from her, his face tight.
‘Maggie. Don’t,’ he told her harshly.
‘I can’t bear it if you touch me,’ he added simply, watching the colour come and go in her face as he did so. ‘It may have taken me ten years to realise it, Maggie, but I know now that there is only one woman for me and that woman is you. You don’t know how much I wish I could turn back time. How much I wish you were still mine. I don’t have the right to speak to you like this, I know. You’re in a new relationship now, a good relationship, I can see that. But I want you to know that if you ever need me…if you ever need anything, I’m here.’
Unable to speak, Maggie could only shake her head. Thank God Dan couldn’t know how many nights after he had left she had lain awake aching to hear him say those words, aching just to have him there with her. Then the pain of loving him had been a pain she had thought would never ease, and for a part of her, somewhere deep, deep inside her, it never had. But that was her secret, her small, dark shadow that she was determined to carry alone, because there was no way she was going to allow that shadow to touch Oliver, who had given her so much. Oliver, who had given her the gift of his child. Oliver, who loved her so much!
‘I have to go,’ she told Dan huskily. ‘Oliver will be worrying…’
As she started to walk away from him Dan was tempted to tell her that whilst Oliver might be worrying, he would have been here at her side. But knowing Maggie the way he did, he suspected that such a remark would have been unfair. She could be one hell of a stubborn and independent lady when she chose!
‘Anyway, I’ve decided that I’m going to talk to Julie tonight about us adopting Jack,’ Stella told Richard.
‘Stella, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,’ Richard began warningly, breaking off as the telephone suddenly rang.
Since Stella was closest to it, she answered the call, her face suddenly draining of colour.
‘Yes. Yes, I understand,’ Richard heard her saying unsteadily, and then she was replacing the receiver and telling him, ‘I’ve got to go to the hospital…That was Alice. It’s Nicki…She’s…’ Unable to say any more, Stella put her hand to her mouth as her eyes flooded with tears. ‘I’ve got to go, Rich!’
Alice and Stella arrived at the hospital just as Maggie was on the point of leaving.
‘We had to come,’ Alice told her.
Instantly they were holding one another, the three of them locked together in a silent, emotional embrace.
‘How are they? How is…?’ Stella demanded anxiously when she could speak.
‘They’re both going to be fine,’ Maggie assured her. ‘Nicki recovered consciousness whilst I was there. She spoke to me…’ Fresh tears filled her eyes.
‘Oh, Maggie, if only we’d listened to you,’ Alice wept.
‘No.’ Stella stopped her quietly. ‘You did listen, Alice. I was the one who refused to.’ It had been on her conscience all the way to the hospital. ‘I should never have doubted your judgement, and if I hadn’t…’
‘You mustn’t think like that, Stella,’ Maggie told her gently. ‘The truth is that we’ve all been so preoccupied with our own lives that we’ve…’
‘Neglected our friendship?’ Alice supplied quietly for her. ‘It’s true,’ she insisted when Maggie and Stella looked at her. ‘I’ve been conscious of it myself. It’s as though, somehow, somewhere, we’ve started to build up barriers between one another, to…’ She paused and shook her head.
‘Perhaps there’s more to this modern myth that fifty is the new forty than we’ve been prepar
ed to acknowledge,’ Stella suggested.
When Maggie and Alice looked enquiringly at her, she went on slowly, trying to clarify her own thoughts as well as pick the right words to express her feelings.
‘It used to be that forty was considered to be a certain watershed in life. Remember all those earnest, outdated magazine articles there used to be about not worrying if your husband suddenly hit forty and started wanting to wear jeans and listen to pop music? How we were all warned to be on our guard against wanting to decamp to Greece and find an unsuitable lover?’ she added wryly. ‘We all laughed about it when we actually did hit forty, didn’t we? Because it just wasn’t an issue for any of us. None of us felt remotely past it, or had any desire to prove anything to anyone. We were on the crest of a wave, weren’t we? We were right there in the centre of everything. Forty was nothing, a breeze…we loved it and we laughed together about all those old horror stories!
‘Well, I don’t know about either of you, but for me fifty was different. Oh, yes, I know I never said anything…well, what was the point? We’d already gone through the forty high-water mark, so starting to panic and look back assessingly, critically at fifty seemed so…so un-me that I just didn’t want to talk about what was happening to me. I didn’t want to admit that I was suddenly beginning to question what my life had been about, what I had achieved…what I actually was. And I certainly didn’t want to start saying that a part of me felt cheated, resentful, afraid. But…’ Stella paused and looked at both of them. ‘If I’m wrong then I apologise, but it seems to me that perhaps all of us have experienced…something…’