Power of a Woman

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Power of a Woman Page 23

by Barbara Taylor Bradford


  “They did go,” Blair said. “Gideon had Bruce send a fax to the ship. Fortunately, Nigel remembered his father-in-law telling him they would be arriving in Hong Kong on Good Friday and staying there for the Easter weekend.”

  “How is Bruce holding up?” Stevie asked, glancing at Derek.

  “Not bad under the circumstances. It’s shaken him, of course, and he wanted to fly up with us today, but I told him it would be better if he came tomorrow. We’ve booked him a room at the Queen’s. That’s where we’re all staying.”

  “Gideon found Miles in Paris. At the Plaza Athénée. He left immediately, and he’s probably already in Leeds by now,” Blair explained.

  “Nigel must be distraught!” Stevie exclaimed, shaking her head. “He loves Tamara so much, worships her, really. He must be out of his mind…where are the children, Mother?” Stevie turned to Blair, her face taut with anxiety.

  “Lenore took them to Lindenhill the moment they returned from their shopping trip this morning. They’re there with Agnes. Apparently Agnes went over to Aysgarth End this afternoon, to get some of their things, and a few bits and pieces of her own. They’re going to stay at Lindenhill indefinitely. Until we all go back to London, that is.”

  “Yes, that’s the best solution,” Stevie agreed.

  “I spoke to Lenore at five o’clock,” Derek said. “When your mother and I arrived at the airport. She’s the one who told me about Chloe’s condition and the operation, and about Tamara. Gideon asked her to stay next to the phone at Lindenhill. She’s our base—the person we all call to get information and to whom we give it. That way she can keep everyone informed.”

  Stevie nodded. She moved slightly in her seat, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them nervously. After a moment or two, she said to Derek in a low voice, “I guess nobody knows exactly what happened, why the shooting occurred. Or who did it?”

  “Since the girls have remained unconscious, they haven’t been able to tell Nigel and Gideon—or the police—anything. However, the man who shot them was Tamara’s ex-husband, Alexis Dumachev. He’s been identified.”

  “Oh, my God, no! But why? Why did he do a horrendous thing like this? I know Tamara hasn’t heard from him for years. He went off to work in…Japan, I think.”

  “Yes, that’s what Nigel said to Gideon, and it’s true, they haven’t heard from him for years.” Derek sighed. “It seems as if he went berserk. Why we’ll never know, I suppose.”

  Stevie inclined her head, and then she leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. Chloe and Tamara might not make it, she knew that. Although her mother and Derek were being cheerful, she realized they were putting up a front. Derek made a good job of it; why wouldn’t he? After all, he was a great actor. But her mother couldn’t act, and it was Blair who gave it all away. Things weren’t quite as rosy as they wanted her to believe; of that she was absolutely convinced.

  The stewardess came and told them they were about to land at the Leeds-Bradford Airport in Yeadon. Opening her eyes, Stevie looked at her watch. It was twenty minutes past seven o’clock.

  Miles was waiting for them in the Brotherton Wing of Leeds General Infirmary when they arrived at eight o’clock. As Stevie walked into the small private waiting room, accompanied by Blair and Derek, he leapt to his feet and hurried to his mother. Concern ringed his face.

  “Hello, Ma,” he said, wrapping his arms around her protectively, holding her close. Stevie clung to her son for a second, taking comfort from his reassuring presence before pulling away.

  Looking into his eyes, she asked, “Tell me the truth, Miles, is Chloe going to live?”

  “Yes, I think she is. From what I understand, the operation to remove the bullet from her brain was a success. But it’s better that you talk to the neurosurgeon. He was just checking on Chloe a short while ago, and he’s waiting in his office for you.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “Right away, Ma.” Turning to his grandparents, he embraced them both before opening the door and leading them out of the private waiting room.

  As Miles hurried them down the corridor, Stevie grasped her son’s arm, asked urgently, “How’s Tamara? Is she going to be all right?”

  “They’re hoping so. She’s also in intensive care, and holding her own right now, Ma. Tam’s in another part of the Brotherton Wing and Nigel’s in a waiting room over there, to be near her. Gideon’s with him, giving him support. Once you’ve talked to Mr. Longdon and seen Chloe, I’ll take you to Nigel. The surgeon who operated on her wants to see you.”

  Stevie nodded. A moment later Miles was ushering them into the neurosurgeon’s office.

  “Valentin Longdon,” the neurosurgeon said, rising, coming forward to greet them, his hand outstretched. “Mrs. Jardine, Sir Derek and Lady Rayner. Pleased to meet you.” After shaking hands with them, he added, “However, I’m so sorry we’re not meeting under different circumstances. Please, do sit down.”

  They did so, and Stevie said, “Thank you for taking care of my daughter, Mr. Longdon. I appreciate everything you’ve done to save her life.”

  The neurosurgeon inclined his head. “I would like to explain everything, so that you understand fully what has happened.”

  “Yes, that would be very helpful,” Derek murmured, leaning forward slightly, pinning his eyes on the renowned surgeon.

  “First let me tell you about the wound. The bullet entered the left side of Miss Jardine’s forehead at a forty-five-degree angle, going in at the edge of the eyebrow. It hit the frontal lobe actually, and broke a bone in her skull. It remained in her brain.” He paused and looked at Stevie questioningly, a brow raised.

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m following you, Mr. Longdon.”

  Giving her a faint smile, the neurosurgeon continued. “I operated on your daughter immediately after she arrived here from Harrogate, in order to reduce the risk of infection. There was a large area of bruising, bleeding, and swelling. Great trauma in the brain. I operated down the track of the bullet, that is, I followed the track the bullet made as it went through her skull. I first removed the indriven bone, then the damaged brain tissue, then the blood clot, and finally the bullet. It was a three-hour operation, Mrs. Jardine, but she came through it well.”

  “Thank you for explaining, Mr. Longdon, but I’m not sure I quite understand why Chloe is still in a coma.”

  “Because of the great trauma suffered to the brain. We must wait for the swelling to go down. She is in an altered state of consciousness right now, as she has been since she was shot. She will come out of the coma slowly, over a ten-day period, or thereabouts.”

  “But she will come out of the coma, won’t she, Mr. Longdon?” Derek interjected.

  There was only a fractional hesitation on the neurosurgeon’s part before he said, “She should, Sir Derek. I am very hopeful for her. And as I just said, she will emerge from the coma rather slowly, come into a lighter consciousness, a more stable state of being gradually.”

  “How long will she have to be in intensive care?” Stevie said.

  “For the next forty-eight hours, at least, Mrs. Jardine. Perhaps longer.”

  “Is there the possibility that my daughter might not come out of the coma, Mr. Longdon?”

  “Well, of course, there is always that possibility with every patient. I don’t think this is the case with Miss Jardine, however.”

  “Could she be left with any brain damage?” Stevie stared at the neurosurgeon, biting her lip nervously now that she had expressed one of her worst fears.

  “That is doubtful,” he replied quietly.

  Stevie continued to stare at him, detecting something in his manner she could not quite put her finger on. She wondered if he was making Chloe’s condition sound less serious than it really was. She opened her mouth to ask him this, then changed her mind. Instead, she said, “Can we see Chloe, Mr. Longdon?”

  “Of course you can, Mrs. Jardine. I will take you to the ICU now. Please, come with me.”

  The
four of them trooped out after Valentin Longdon, and within several seconds they were entering the intensive care unit in the Brotherton Wing. “It would be preferable if you saw Miss Jardine one at a time,” the neurosurgeon murmured. Opening the door to Chloe’s room, he stood to one side, allowing Stevie to enter first. He followed her in and closed the door.

  Stevie glided across the floor toward the hospital bed as quietly as she could, full of anxiety and apprehension. Her throat closed when she saw Chloe, and she had to fight hard to stem the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. It was with a sense of dread and a sinking heart that she came to a standstill next to the bed and looked down at her daughter.

  Chloe was white-faced and motionless, her eyes closed. Bandages swathed her head and IVs were attached to her body. There was one in her arm, another in her nose. A piece of equipment covered her mouth, and she looked so helpless, so vulnerable, Stevie’s eyes welled; she fumbled in her jacket pocket for a handkerchief. After a moment, she composed herself and swung her head to look at the neurosurgeon. She was mute, unable to say anything, so choked up was she. She shook her head.

  Understanding her state of mind, observing her anxiousness and worry, Valentin Longdon said quietly, “I’m pleased with her progress since the operation this afternoon. I feel optimistic she’s going to be all right, Mrs. Jardine.”

  “Is she out of danger, Mr. Longdon?”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but she’s doing well. Let me explain something. Those are intravenous drips, as I’m sure you know. They give easy access to the bloodstream, just in case of any infection. And as you can see, I have her on a ventilator. Your daughter is being monitored for the blood gases and also for intracranial pressure. And so far so good.”

  “I know you’re doing everything for her, and that she’s getting the best of care.”

  Stevie gazed down at Chloe, the child of her heart, and took hold of her hand. Then she bent down and kissed it. Straightening, turning once more to the neurosurgeon, she murmured, “She doesn’t know I’m here, does she?”

  “She might, Mrs. Jardine; we don’t know for sure.” His eyes were full of compassion for her.

  After a moment longer, Stevie tiptoed out of the private room; Blair went in to see her granddaughter. When she emerged, Derek entered, but he, too, stayed only for a few seconds.

  Not long after this, Stevie walked into the private waiting room where Nigel was sitting with Gideon. Derek and Blair followed her. Both of Stevie’s sons jumped up when they saw their mother and their grandparents.

  Stevie went straight to Nigel, opening her arms to him. There was only the merest hesitation on his part as he searched her face, and then he stepped forward to take hold of his mother. Stevie put her arms around him and held him very close to her, the love she felt for him far outweighing her anger and disappointment of the last few months. “I’m here for you, Nigel; I’ll do anything I can to help you, darling.”

  He clung to her, and unexpectedly his self-control shattered. He broke down and began to sob. “Oh, Mother, Mother, I don’t know what to do for Tamara. She’s lying there…so helpless. I love her so much, Ma. She’s my life. I don’t want her to die.”

  “I know, I know, darling. We must all be strong for her, pray that she pulls through this. I love her, too, you know that, Nigel. Take me to see her now.”

  Finding his handkerchief, blowing his nose, and then pushing his hair back with his hands, Nigel pulled himself together as best he could. After greeting his grandparents, he took hold of Stevie’s arm and led her out of the room. They all went to the surgical ward in the Brotherton Wing, where a nurse took them to the ICU and showed Nigel and Stevie into Tamara’s room. Gideon waited outside with Blair and Derek.

  Stevie’s heart sank when she saw her daughter-in-law lying unconscious in the hospital bed, hooked up to so much equipment. She was so still. Stevie couldn’t help thinking that Tamara looked ghastly, in a way, worse than Chloe did. The thought struck her that Tamara was at death’s door, and she shivered involuntarily. Something inside her told her that it would be a miracle if Tam lived. She thought her heart would break as she leaned over her daughter-in-law, squeezed her hand, and lightly touched the lovely silver-gilt hair. There was a frailty about Tamara that frightened Stevie, and she knew why Nigel was so distraught. He had detected this, too, and it had alerted him to the worst.

  Now Stevie turned to Nigel, took his arm, and led him out of the private room. Once again Derek, and then Blair, went in to see Tamara.

  Stepping up to his mother, Gideon said, “Are you all right, Ma? Are you holding up okay?” He put his arm around her solicitously. Kissed her cheek.

  “I’m fine, Gideon, and I’m glad you and Miles are here to help Nigel and me through this. Where’s Lenore? Is she still at Lindenhill?”

  “She’s driving over to Leeds now. Natalie and Arnaud are just having their supper and then Agnes is going to put them to bed. I spoke to Lenore a few minutes ago. Don’t worry about the kids, Ma; they’re doing fine.”

  Nigel said in a hoarse voice, “She’s not going to pull through, is she, Mother? Tamara’s not going to make it, is she? I could see it written all over your face when we were in the room with her.”

  “No, you couldn’t, Nigel, because I don’t believe that at all. I’m just worried about Tam, obviously. That’s what you’re seeing, my anxiety and concern. And let’s be positive, Nigel. Tamara’s a strong woman; she’s going to fight to live, I just know it. Now, take me to see the surgeon who operated on her.”

  “All right.”

  Gideon said, “I’ll wait here for Grandma and Gramps.”

  Nigel and Stevie walked rapidly down the corridor, making for the surgeon’s office, but as they turned the corner they ran into him.

  “Mr. Jardine,” he exclaimed, “I was just coming to see your wife, to check on her.”

  “This is my mother, Stephanie Jardine,” Nigel said. “And, Mother, this is Mr. William Tilden, Tam’s surgeon.”

  After they had shaken hands, Stevie said, “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my daughter-in-law, Mr. Tilden. From what I understand, her wounds were very bad.”

  He nodded. “Yes, very serious, Mrs. Jardine. She sustained bullet wounds in her chest and stomach. Unfortunately, there was a lot of internal bleeding, and she has lost a lot of blood. We’ve given her transfusions, naturally, and now we must wait to see how she improves in the next few hours.”

  “Is my wife going to die?’ Nigel asked in a strangled voice.

  “We don’t know, Mr. Jardine. I personally think she has a reasonable chance of pulling through. She’s a very healthy woman, and she’s young.”

  “But she is in critical condition, isn’t she?” Nigel said.

  “Yes,” the surgeon answered very softly.

  26

  IT WAS A SUBDUED, SAD LITTLE GROUP THAT SAT around a table in the lounge of the Queen’s Hotel in City Square, having a late-night drink and snack: Stevie, Derek, and Gideon.

  Exhausted from travel and the strain of the day, Blair had gone to bed. So had Nigel and Miles, who were equally worn out. Lenore had been with them until ten minutes before, but she, too, had now left to drive back to Lindenhill.

  Stevie played with a chicken sandwich, not eating it; in fact, it was taking all her energy to force down a cup of tea. Finally, after a long silence, she looked at Gideon and said, “What in God’s name made Dumachev shoot them?”

  Gideon shook his head and let out a weary sigh. “We’ll never know the answer to that, Ma. And I’m sure the girls won’t be able to enlighten us either when they regain consciousness. All they’ll be able to do is tell us what happened when he arrived at the farm this morning, tell us what he actually said, how he behaved.”

  “Personally, I think he was deranged,” Derek interjected. “No one in their right mind walks into a house and shoots two women in cold blood. And, more than likely, he was obsessed with Tamara.”

  “Obsessio
nal people can be extremely dangerous,” Gideon announced, giving his mother a pointed look.

  Stevie frowned, sat back in the chair, a reflective expression settling on her face. After a moment, she said, “Why would Alexis Dumachev be obsessed with Tamara? After all, they were married only a couple of months when they were very young. She was only eighteen, and she was divorced from him by the time she was nineteen. Anyway, Tamara hadn’t seen him for years. Nigel told me that at the hospital.” Stevie shook her head, bafflement edging onto her face. “Why would he suddenly come back into her life after all this time?”

  “Who knows, Ma, and anyway, you don’t have to see someone constantly in order to be obsessed by them. That is usually in the mind, and in a sick mind at that.”

  Derek nodded. “Gideon’s right, Stevie.” There was a little pause; he took a sip of coffee, then went on. “When I was speaking to Nigel earlier this evening, he said that Dumachev became engaged to a Japanese woman when he was living in Tokyo. Seemingly, over the years, Dumachev was in touch with Tamara’s parents occasionally. They had passed this news on to her about two years ago.”

  “Perhaps something happened between him and the woman, something which triggered this,” Gideon said, thinking out loud.

  “We’re speculating,” Derek pointed out. “And that can be both dangerous and fruitless.”

  “You’re right, Derek,” Stevie agreed. “I’m glad Tam’s parents received Bruce’s fax and that they’re flying to London tomorrow. It makes me feel better knowing they’ll be here soon. Not that they can do anything either, but having them close to her will help Tam, I think.”

  Gideon remarked, “I believe that something made Dumachev snap, and then he fixated on Tamara in a very sick way. That’s why he came looking for her. Incidentally, the police told me that he was in England only a couple of days before he came up to Yorkshire. The police found his airline ticket and passport, as well as the car rental papers, in the glove compartment of the car.”

 

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