Gifthorse: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  “What do you mean?”

  They could hear Willow’s breathing. She was struggling to keep control.

  “I think they’re worried he might have …” her voice faded. “… brain damage.”

  For some seconds Marnie could not speak. Margaret buried her face in her hands. Anne looked stunned.

  “So what happens next?” said Marnie.

  “Don’t know. I just sit here waiting.” Willow sounded devastated. “I don’t know if I’m coming or going, Marnie. I’m in a daze.”

  “Willow, listen. We’re taking care of everything here, the boat, Poppy. Anne’s coming to the hospital shortly, bringing you a change of clothes, toiletries, money. I know this seems unimportant, but you do need some things. Is Ben in intensive care?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Anne knows where to find you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Listen, Willow. Ben is in good hands. A couple of years ago I was in ITU myself and not expected to live. The staff there are very very good. Ben will be fine, I’m sure.”

  After ending the call, Marnie stared at Margaret while Anne headed for Glastonbury to collect Willow’s things.

  “The situation couldn’t be much worse, could it?” Margaret said softly.

  “I meant what I said, Margaret. If anyone can restore Ben, they can. They’re a brilliant team.”

  “Marnie, the operative word is, if. We were all worried that Ben might’ve drowned. None of us thought about the head injury.”

  “No.”

  Marnie suddenly had a vision of Valerie Paxton on the bridge looking down at Ben. She heard her mumbling … I didn’t mean to kill him … it’s all my fault. She knew that Margaret was sharing the same thought, even though she had not witnessed the scene herself.

  “Valerie,” Margaret murmured. “Oh Valerie, what have you done?”

  *

  Anne made good time to the hospital through the rush hour traffic and found a parking space without difficulty. As she was entering the building she found herself face-to-face with Cathy Lamb coming out.

  “Hi, Anne. I’ll be coming to see you later.”

  Anne looked wary. “Oh?”

  “Don’t look so worried. I need to take statements from you and the others at Glebe Farm. We’ve yet to sort out what actually happened to Ben.”

  “Okay, but I don’t know that we can be of much help. None of us saw anything.”

  The detective eyed the bulky carrier bag that Anne was carrying.

  “No prizes for guessing where you’re going, Anne,” she said. “What’s the latest?”

  “I thought you’d be able to tell me that,” said Anne.

  Cathy shook her head. “I’ve been in sorting out arrangements for Valerie Paxton. We’ve got her in a private room with an officer guarding the door.”

  “You haven’t seen Willow?”

  “Not today. So what is the situation?”

  Anne swallowed hard and replied quietly. “They’re carrying out tests on Ben for possible brain damage.”

  “Bloody hell,” Lamb muttered.

  *

  Margaret Giles walked through Valerie Paxton’s deserted office and picked up the phone. She knew the number by heart. The call was answered by Valerie’s husband after three rings. He sounded subdued. Someone else who had a sleepless night, Margaret thought.

  Jack Paxton had visited Valerie the previous evening. She was under sedation, and the constable on duty allowed him only a few minutes with his wife. He found her incoherent, barely able to recognise him. When Jack left the room, he asked the policeman what his wife was alleged to have done. The officer looked at him as if suspecting it was a trick question.

  Jack now turned his question on Margaret.

  How do you tell a man that his wife attempted to murder a child, Margaret asked herself. How do you explain that the child was now being examined for suspected brain damage? How do you tell someone that a life filled with hope and potential might now be in ruins because of the actions of a bigoted and malevolent woman?

  “We don’t know exactly what happened, Jack. We’ll have to wait until Valerie can explain things before we know for certain.”

  Margaret knew she had taken the coward’s way out. She was relieved that Jack Paxton was so taken up with worrying about his wife that he did not think to ask about Ben.

  *

  When Marnie arrived in the ITU that afternoon she was determined to focus on practical matters. Willow looked strained, but she had changed into the clothes that Anne had taken in that morning and had showered and washed her hair. Anything to keep busy, she told Marnie.

  Willow had no news to report. Ben spent most of the time sleeping, his head bandaged like a wounded soldier from the trenches of the Somme. Marnie sat with Willow at Ben’s bedside for a short while, but there was nothing to say and, when Ben was being examined by the nursing team, she took her leave, promising to return the next day.

  From the ITU Marnie headed for Dominic Brodie’s ward and found him sitting up in bed, still wearing the neck brace. His wife was occupying the visitor’s chair. Walking in, Marnie realised she only seemed to see worried expressions these days. Karen Brodie stood up and shook hands. Marnie now wished she had taken in a token bunch of grapes or something. Her thoughts had been concentrated only on Ben that day.

  “How nice of you to come,” Karen said, pulling up a chair for Marnie. “Did you make a special journey?”

  “I was coming in anyway. There’s someone else I needed to visit as well.”

  “In the hospital?” said Dominic. He winced as movement caused him a sudden pain.

  Marnie was uncertain what to tell them, but she could hardly give only part of the story, and she reminded herself that Ben was, after all, part of their family. They had a right to know about him. She outlined what had happened.

  “Why would that woman want to kill Ben?” Karen asked, appalled.

  “We don’t know for certain that she did,” said Marnie.

  “But she admitted it,” Dominic said.

  “I’m not sure we can rely on what she said at the time. She was in a state of shock when we found her.”

  “What’s she saying now, do you know that?” Karen asked.

  Marnie shook her head. “The medics have got her sedated.”

  “And she’s here, in this hospital?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure exactly where, but she’s under police guard in a private room.” Marnie looked at her watch. “Look, I’m sorry to have to go, but I have a lot of work to catch up on and –”

  “Of course.” Karen stood up as Marnie rose to leave. “It’s very good of you to come, Marnie. I’ll walk out with you.”

  Marnie said goodbye to Dominic and they left the ward. Outside in the corridor, Karen asked Marnie what she thought Ben’s chances were of a full recovery. Marnie said she had no idea. Everyone was worried about him. Everyone was in a state of limbo.

  While they were talking, Willow came down the corridor, walking as if in a trance. Marnie made introductions, and Karen put a hand on Willow’s shoulder, expressing her sorrow at Ben’s condition. Willow explained that the medical team had sent Ben for a further brain scan, and she was going outside for a breath of air. She was beside herself and did not know what to do.

  “Have you thought of prayer?” Karen asked quietly.

  Willow stared at her, seeming unable to find the words to reply. Marnie thought it would fly in the face of everything Ben believed in, but she was not sure how Willow might react. Without waiting for a response, Karen continued.

  “We will pray for his safe deliverance, Dominic and I. I promise you that.”

  Willow’s eyes became moist. “We don’t really …” her voice faded.

  “You don’t have to,” Karen said almost in a whisper. “The Lord is walking beside you. Lean on Him and you will find strength. Trust me.”

  Marnie felt that the three of them, standing together in the busy corridor as staff and v
isitors hurried past, were momentarily isolated in a bubble that cocooned them from the outside world. Eventually, Willow gave Karen a faint smile, glanced at Marnie and turned to go.

  “Is Maurice all right now?” Willow’s voice was barely audible in the bustling corridor. “Anne told me he’d come back. I’m glad. He needs support, too.”

  Marnie nodded, unsure if Karen had heard what was said. Karen made no reaction, and Marnie passed no comment as she turned to walk away.

  *

  In his study on Thyrsis, Ralph was finding it hard to concentrate, which was unusual for him. He had read the same paragraph in his conclusions chapter three times and still had not taken in what it meant. He was telling himself to get a grip when the mobile rang. Hr grabbed it from the desk.

  “Hallo? Ralph Lombard.”

  “Have you been running, Ralph?” It was Graeme McKinnon from the Highgate Business School. “You sound breathless.”

  “Er, no. Hallo, Graeme. What can I do for you?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Not really.”

  Ralph outlined the main events that had befallen them in the past few days.

  “Look, shall I call back some other time? You’ve obviously got a lot on your plate just now and –”

  “No, Graeme, it’s fine. Fire away.”

  “Well, if you’re sure. You remember you asked me to see if I could find out who might be gunning for Maurice Dekker?”

  To Ralph that now seemed only a distant memory. “Of course.”

  “Sorry it’s taken so long, but I’ve finally got a few names for you.”

  Ralph reached for his notepad. “Serious players?”

  “Potentially, yes, very serious.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The first is Larry Barnes. Ring any bells?”

  Ralph pondered. The name was familiar. “Sir Laurence Barnes, big cheese in the commodities market?”

  “That’s the guy. It’s rumoured he lost a small fortune thanks to Maurice. So not a great fan.”

  “He’s a major league player,” said Ralph. “Not someone you’d want as an enemy.”

  “Absolutely not. Next on the list is Maxwell Hinton. You must know him.”

  Ralph dredged his memory. “Oil man?”

  “You got it.”

  “Wasn’t he with BP or Shell?”

  “Neither, in fact. He was chairman of Petrochem Oil UK.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Retired, had to get out after his reputation went down in flames. Lives in the Bahamas these days.”

  “No great hardship,” said Ralph. “Everybody’s dream, I’d have thought.”

  “Depends what other dreams you might have harboured, Ralph. I gather he’d set his sights on a knighthood, being Lord Mayor of the City of London, followed by a seat on the board of the Bank of England and an eventual peerage.”

  “Modest little fellow.”

  “Angry wee fellow in my book,” said Graeme. “I have one more name for you, Greville de Souza.”

  “Now that’s vaguely familiar.” Ralph thought hard. “Not an easy name to forget. Greville de Souza. Remind me.”

  “He suffered more than most, Ralph. He was with Chedworth Gregson, the merchant bankers. He rather unwisely used some of the firm’s assets to buy into one of Maurice’s schemes. At any other time he might’ve got away with it and made a tidy pile. He was unlucky enough to choose the day Maurice made his big mistake.”

  “Bad move,” said Ralph.

  “Absolutely. He got caught … sentenced to eighteen months in gaol.”

  “Is he still inside?”

  “Came out last year.”

  “Bent on revenge?”

  “What do you think? The thing is, Ralph, you could say the same of any one of them. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

  *

  Marnie drove through the field gate and turned onto the track. Normally the drive down the slope towards Glebe Farm lifted her spirits as the farmhouse chimneys came into view over the treetops. But on that day she felt listless and weary. Everything in her life was going well, with contracts coming in and interesting projects going ahead. Yet, the anxiety she felt for Ben was overwhelming her, blotting out all the positive parts of her world. Then there was Maurice Dekker and his problems.

  Anne and Donovan were in the office, Anne typing up notes at her desk, Donovan at the photocopier. They looked happy together, each absorbed in their tasks. She reported back on her visit to hospital, giving the latest news about Ben, Dominic and Valerie Paxton.

  “They’ll be charging us rent for hospital beds at this rate,” Anne said.

  “With a supplementary fee for Maurice Dekker,” Donovan added.

  “Is he still poorly?” Marnie asked.

  “I’m really concerned about him,” said Donovan. “He seems so weak. I’ve left him resting, and he’s being quite sensible about that, but he can’t go on like this. He needs to see a doctor. Can we organise that?”

  Marnie looked glum. “Can I worry about one thing at a time?”

  “We can get onto the surgery,” said Anne, “ask for a home visit.”

  Marnie nodded. “Good idea.”

  Anne added a note to her list.

  Marnie dropped her bag on the floor by her chair and sat at the desk. She picked up the phone and made the first call on her list. Margaret Giles answered almost at once. Marnie brought her up-to-date on Ben and Valerie.

  “There’s no firm news about his head injury?” said Margaret.

  “Willow told me they’d taken him for another brain scan.”

  “That poor woman,” said Margaret. “What must she be going through?”

  “I think it’s called hell,” Marnie said, conjuring up the image of Willow’s haggard features.

  “Angela Hemingway was here this afternoon,” said Margaret. “She said she wanted to hold a prayer vigil for Ben.”

  “I’m not sure that’s really appropriate, given Ben’s and Willow’s strong views on religion.”

  “I did point that out to Angela as diplomatically as possible. But she said we all had to help in whatever way we could.”

  “She’s not the only one wanting to pray for Ben,” said Marnie.

  “Really? Who else?”

  “Karen Brodie. She’s Dominic’s wife. You know the man who came here wanting to find Maurice Dekker, his brother-in-law? I saw her in the hospital. They’re related to Ben and Willow by marriage. Quite devout, it seems.”

  “And she wants to pray for Ben?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Well, every little helps,” said Margaret.

  Marnie was thinking it was time to end the conversation when Margaret changed the subject.

  “Marnie, there’s something I wanted to ask. What’s all this about a brain scan? Why would he suffer from possible brain damage, when he was being rescued from drowning?”

  “He’d been hit on the head, very hard, it seems, on the temple.”

  Marnie heard Margaret’s intake of breath. “And they think Valerie …”

  “I believe that’s the assumption, Margaret. After that, he fell into the canal and ingested a lot of water. He was unconscious and could’ve drowned.” Marnie looked across the office to where Donovan was handing a bundle of photocopies to Anne. “In fact he would have if Donovan hadn’t acted so promptly. Donovan saved his life.”

  Margaret remained silent for several seconds. “But what life?” she said.

  Chapter 50

  Confession

  Wednesday morning dawned bright and clear with a spring warmth in the air, but no-one at Glebe Farm noticed it, at least not until after the phone call.

  Anne had finished breakfast and already gone off to gather her things for the journey to college. Donovan had gone back to give Maurice his breakfast, having secured a promise from Marnie that she would call the surgery for a home visit. Marnie and Ralph were washing up when her mobile rang. She
wrenched it from her trouser pocket. The call would put all thoughts of Maurice Dekker out of her mind.

  “Marnie Walker, good morning.”

  There was an indistinct sound on the line like a rushing wind. Marnie pressed the phone hard against her ear. Ralph stopped putting dishes away and stared at her.

  “Hallo? This is Marnie Walker.”

  “Marnie …” A sound like heavy breathing.

  “Yes. This is Marnie. Who is that?”

  “Willow. It’s Willow, Marnie.”

  Marnie felt a chill running through her entire body.

  “Willow,” she said. Ralph’s eyes widened and he put down the plates he was holding. “What is it?” Marnie urged. Now she realised that Willow was crying, struggling to speak. “Willow, speak to me, please.”

  A swallow and a cough. “He’s awake, Marnie.” More gasping. “My hands are trembling.”

  “Take your time, Willow. Just take it easy.”

  “They don’t think he has brain damage. Marnie, I can barely –”

  “Willow, that’s marvellous, that’s great news.”

  “Yes, yes. They can’t be absolutely certain, but the scan revealed no internal bleeding, and brain activity is normal.” Her speech was breathless. “They said something about trauma and concussion. He’s got a headache, but he’s very resilient, they said.”

  Marnie took deep breaths. “How long will they keep him in the ITU?”

  “They’re transferring him later today. He could be out in a few days.”

  The sound stopped abruptly. Marnie had the impression that Willow had taken the phone from her face. There was a rustling sound.

  “Willow? Can you hear me?”

  “I don’t care what they think, Marnie.”

  “What who think?”

  “I’m sat on the floor in the corridor. My legs were trembling like the rest of me.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Willow. How is Ben now?”

  “He’s awake, sitting up in – No, no, I’m fine.” Willow’s voice became faint as if she had turned her head away from the phone. ‘… really … just let me … Sorry, Marnie. I’m going to get back to the unit. Two nurses are trying to lift me up. They think I’ve collapsed. They’re not far wrong either, but they don’t understand. I’ll phone you later.”