by Mark Stanley
And as ever, he wasn't wrong, for a few hours later, completely unbidden, Mark opened his eyes and as had always been the case, Victoria was right there, as the lids opened and Mark squinted in the bright lighting.
"I'm sorry my darling. Let me turn the lights off."
"No, please don't do that Victoria, it's important that they stay on, they help to stimulate Mark's brain." Moira, walked around and shone a torch beam into each of Mark's eyes and smiled as she spoke to Victoria.
"Completely responsive, I think your man is back."
Victoria couldn't speak, the days and weeks of uncertainty, the lack of progress and the stress was suddenly all too much as she sobbed, but this time and at long last, it was with joy.
Chapter 4 - February
"I appreciate what you want, but I need to know that you'll be adhering to my rules and I don't mean paying lip-service to me as you lie in bed, trying to get your own way, as you've manipulated everyone in this room of late!"
"But David I feel so much better. I agree my left-hand side is weak but I can work on that at home, everyday, I promise, twice a day in fact, please David? Martin said that it would be okay with him if it was okay with you?"
"With all due respect, Martin is concerned with your body and I'm concerned with your brain and I think you'd be better off staying here or at least transferring to a convalescence home where you can get proper care."
"But Victoria will ensure that I get the very best of care won't you Victoria?"
"I'm with David on this; I think you're pushing yourself too hard and too quickly. Take another week or two and lets be sure?"
"Stop ganging up on me, Moira, tell them!"
"Mark has asked me if I'll take some of my Annual Leave and look after him at home, which I'm happy to do, if it'll help."
David looked at Moira and then at Victoria. "Well, I suppose, if Moira will accompany you... I'm only at the end of a phone..."
"Yesssssssss!"
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Home?"
"Not without your crash helmet Billy."
"But Victoria!"
"If you intend arguing with me at every juncture, then the deal is off and you can stay here, your choice, which is it to be?"
"Can you pass my helmet please?" I wasn't allowed to walk, that was deemed too much and so with Victoria as head wheelchair pusher, we got loaded up.
"Are you warm enough?"
"Yes Victoria."
"Have you been to the lavatory?"
"Yes Victoria."
"Then if you've said your farewells it's time to leave."
There was a small group in the room, David, Martin, Moira and my new tormentor, Karen my Physiotherapist who, even now as Victoria was about to push me out into the corridor, couldn't let me go.
"Remember Mark, I'll be speaking on a daily basis to Catherine and if I think you're being difficult or slacking then you can see me...every day!"
"Noooooo!" Which people thought was funny, not me, for Karen is a martinet and would find gainful employment anywhere Human Rights were not an issue. Victoria slowly pushed me forward and we made our way down the corridor to the lift where it was time to leave behind the people who had brought me back. "Thank you all again."
David spoke for everyone."This isn't goodbye Mark, we'll be seeing you every week for the next few months. Just ensure you do everything and I do mean everything, which Moira, Catherine and Victoria tell you because if you don't..."
"You'll have me to answer to!"
"Especially goodbye to you Karen and I do hope that you and I will never meet again!" At that she just laughed, which is exactly what she does when she inflicts torture in the name of physiotherapy on her victims.
We got into the lift with lots of waves and blowing of kisses, only for the lift doors to open on the Ground floor for another load of nurses to be waiting to say goodbye. After promises to come back and see them, when my legs are working properly, we continued our journey to the main exit. I suppose I'll have to get used to life not being as it was. What with a semi-permanent crash helmet, crap legs, a dodgy left arm and guys carrying guns, life would never be quite the same. But something's never change, for as the main doors automatically opened and Victoria pushed me slowly down the ramp we were met with a barrage of flash bulbs and shouting of mine and Victoria's names. I gave them thumbs up as I was pushed to the car and then helped up and supported by Tom and Victoria, before they loaded me into the back of the Rolls Royce, an elegant car, but my getting in was far from elegant, as I toppled over onto my face. Tom manhandled me to an upright position and strapped me into the seat, as Victoria made her way around, stopping for a brief moment and spoke with the press but I couldn't hear what she said and so as she got in I asked her.
"I said that we were so very grateful to all of the doctors, nurses and staff at St. Georges but especially to David, Martin and Moira. That you had begun the road to recovery and that the overall prognosis is excellent. I also thanked all of the well-wishers for their thoughts, prayers and gifts and wished everyone a belated but very Happy New Year."
"I love you so very much."
"And I love you the same way Billy, now let's get you home."
"Tom, will the Range Rovers front and rear and Police motorcycle outriders, be a permanent fixture?"
"No Lord Mark, it was just deemed to be necessary to get you home today. Going forward... there will be a full security briefing when you feel well enough."
"Well its Friday today, is Monday soon enough?"
He turned in his seat. "It's not urgent Lord Mark, just as and when."
"Monday then, shall we say 11 o'clock?"
"As you wish Lord Mark."
"And can you call me Mark please?"
"No, Lord Mark."
"Terrific."
At Chester Square, Victoria's London mansion, there were barriers erected and two armed Police officers. I pointed to both. "Is this also, just for today?"
"No Lord Mark, both are permanent."
"It gets better and better."
If getting into the car had been less than graceful, getting out, was equally challenging. I had been left with a left-hand side 'weakness', now everyone said that it would be fixable, in time. As you can imagine, that caveat of 'in-time' hadn't sat well and I was determined to get the 'problem' resolved, sooner rather than later, but first I had to get out of the bloody car!
"Lord Mark, if you will allow me, I'll lift you up and out. It won't be elegant but I can't see how else to do it?"
"There's more chance of a rocking horse winning the Derby than me allowing you to manhandle me out. No, I'll slide over to the far side of the car and I can get out using my right-hand side, in future can we make sure that the car always has the right-hand door next to the kerb?"
"If you'll hold on, we can turn around."
"And draw more attention to my failings? No thank you very much. Tom can you come around and open Victoria's door please and then I'll show you what I mean?"
I sat and waited whilst Victoria got out and spoke briefly, reiterating what had been said as we left the hospital and asking that they view the next few moments kindly and not to take advantage of the situation, which in turn she would be very grateful for and that she would remember when they wished to have interviews, which was a good ploy. She then stood to one side and the large figure of Tom Wilson bent down to look at me.
"If you're thinking of dragging me across and being a helpful chap, you can jolly well think again. Now fuck off and give me a bit of space." He withdrew and I steeled myself for a difficult few moments. When one has very little movement on one side of one's body, one tends to try and over-compensate and that I couldn't afford to do as the right-side wasn't exactly its normal self. I slid, slowly across the leather seats, pushing up the dividing armrests as I approached them, until; finally I was at the edge. By this stage I was utterly exhausted, breathing heavily and bathed in sweat.
"Tom?" He looked
down at me. "For fucks sake don't let me fall-over."
"Don't worry, that won't happen. Now do you want me to do anything?"
As an answer, I twisted and put my right foot onto the road, all of the while conscious of the press hounds watching every move. I then gripped the door handle and twisted so that I could manhandle my left leg onto the same bit of road. What one takes for granted was causing me a problem.
"Tom, can you come around this side please?"
He was there in an instant. "What if I bend down and put my arm around you and together we lift to get you standing up?"
I couldn't think of a better idea and so nodded my agreement.
"Tell me when you're ready."
I took a deep breath. "Okay." And Tom eased me out and up so that I was standing on the road. Victoria moved in and supported by right side, so with me as the book and Tom with Victoria as the book-ends, they slowly manoeuvred me across the pavement. The wheelchair was useless as there are steps up to the front door and it took me forever to get up them as all I can do is drag my left leg, but I smiled at the Police officers guarding the door and eschewed their offer of assistance. At the top I then, with a huge amount of help and effort, managed to turn and face the photographers, before smiling and waving, this accomplished, we went through the front door and for the first time in nine weeks, I was home.
Chapter 5 - March
My arrival home coincided with the end of winter and March 1st was the first Sunday of my New Year, spent with my children, my brother and of course my parents who all came for a huge Sunday lunch. My sister Holly had returned to Australia but I'd spoken with her yesterday, my first full day of freedom, thanking her for her love and support which elicited a crying spasm from both of us.
I insisted that all of the Saturday and Sunday newspapers were purchased, as there was no point in hiding the truth and I wanted to see what they were saying about me. All of the Saturday editions had a photograph of me either leaving hospital or arriving back at Chester Square and none were flattering. The words were...kind, but even they spoke of 'long recovery period', 'unsure about the future' and 'not quite the same'. Nothing that they had written gave me a vestige of confidence, I knew how difficult the last few weeks had been, but the next few, on this road back would be equally challenging.
"Seriously, how do you think you look?"
"Devastatingly handsome?"
"More like a refugee that has been denied sustenance for a year."
"You could be a little more generous."
"For God's sake Mark, you've had three bullet wounds, four serious operations and lost twenty kilo's how am I supposed to dress the facts up?"
"Changing the subject, are you still intent on marrying me?"
"Don't start with your old bollocks Billy; I'm not in the mood, we're getting married on the 4th July and that's non-negotiable."
"But what if I can't...consummate the marriage?"
Victoria stared at me and obviously the same thought had crossed her mind. She took my hand and stroked it before answering in a very, very quiet voice.
"It'll be okay Billy, it really will be."
Did she believe it, because I wasn't sure I did?
Before last Christmas we had thrown a huge party in the Ballroom and now that served as my daily torture chamber. All of the equipment that my new tormentor Catherine had requested had been purchased and installed and so every morning and every afternoon I worked. There were a whole host of weight machines, parallel bars and moving pavements, conveyor belts with rails either side. In between sessions I had a massage and for the first two weeks everything was monitored by Moira. Darling Moira, who saw everything and I mean everything and missed nothing. As I sat waiting for Catherine to arrive for the afternoon session Moira and I had one of our regular chats.
"You're working too hard."
"I have to, because I'm not going into church in a wheelchair or on sticks."
"Victoria will still love you even if you have to go in on a stretcher."
"Immaterial, it's a pride thing and I have to do it my way, end of."
"What else is worrying you?"
"Personal."
"I've given you bed baths I've washed your genitals, I wiped your backside and you tell me it's personal? Come on tell me, its sex isn't it?"
"Might be."
She laughed. "Can't get an erection?"
"Maybe."
"Worried that it'll never work again?"
"Smart arse!"
"Stop beating yourself up. Look it's less than three months since you were shot and less than two months since you came out of a coma. We all think, including David and yes even me, that you're quite remarkable and that there's no way that you won't make a full-recovery because you won't allow yourself not too. You're getting more movement back into the left-hand side and you're putting some weight back on, what do you weigh now?"
"Just under seventy kilo's."
"And even you can see that you're looking better, can't you admit it?"
I nodded.
"You've been home two weeks and you've put on four kilo's. Mark you'll be fine but slow down a bit eh?"
"Can't do that, too much to do and too many people rely on me."
"And you'll be no use to any of them if you overdo it. Now I go back to work on Monday and I've spoken with David, Martin and Victoria and they've all agreed that you need some R and R, so I think that arrangements are in hand to take you away."
"But..."
She held up her hand. "Stop about the children already. The Easter holidays start next week and they'll be able to join you but you need some sun and rest."
The door opened and Victoria came in smiling. "Have you told him Moira."
"Yes, he'll do it."
"Bullying a sick man is unworthy of both of you, shame on you!"
So the following Monday after spending the weekend with the children, we left, but only after I was assured that they would be joining us the following week. We drove to Battersea and then flew, with our security detail and new personal PA to the South 0f France. Victoria had told me about employing a personal PA to handle, well everything that was personal and I could see the sense in it. She couldn't handle everything and nor could her PA Eloise or mine, the redoubtable Felicity and so Poppy had joined the team. Flying down also gave me the opportunity of thanking both sets of flight crew for the way that they had put themselves out over Christmas to ensure that David Richards had been bought home swiftly to attend to me. John Carmichael was almost emotional as I hugged my thanks.
After landing at Nice we flew on by helicopter onto the Brompton's house. Tom and three of his men accompanied us whilst the others travelled by road. I hadn't realised that to put four men on duty for eight hours required quite so many operatives. This had been something else that we had needed to sort out and it had been done at the security briefing that had followed my discharge from hospital, conducted by Messes. Coombes and Gibb.
"Lord Stanley, it's a pleasure to see you looking so well."
"Cut out the bullshit, we all know I look like a dead man walking."
That took the wind out of the sails. Victoria had already briefed me on what had happened at the hospital and of course I'd been formally interviewed about the attack, but frankly there was little I could add, not because I'd lost my memory, no I still remembered everything, but the CCTV, instigated after our first security briefing back in November, had captured all of the action and only the words had been missing. The briefing lasted almost two hours and during that time it was announced that they had information that I was now the number one target for this particular group. A revelation that had sent Victoria into a cataclysmic rage and one that they wouldn't forget for many a day. Me? I sat there and allowed my soon to be wife centre stage.
"...and so you arrive today, to tell us that Mark is now their number one target and you, good gentlemen, don't even have the wherewithal to look even slightly embarrassed, for make no mistake, if people h
ad done their jobs from the outset then Mark wouldn't have had to have done it for you."
"But..."
"Shut up; don't get the idea that this is a conversation. You then have the temerity, to tell us that we must take more precautions and that our lives will be irretrievably changed that..."
On and on it went. A tirade wouldn't be an exaggeration and I sat with an interested look as I was; interested. I particular liked the way that she phrased fucking wankers, it gave it a depth that I'd never considered before. I was just grateful that it wasn't me on the end of the bollocking, for it had been in the past, as it will be again in the future, of that I had no doubt and it was less than a pleasant experience and she loves me. As we approached the house and prepared to land, I was drawn back to the 'security briefing' subtitled 'Victoria tears you a second bum hole'.
"...and you come here today and tell me that I may not drive anymore and you would prefer it if I didn't carry a mobile phone. Just tell me exactly..."
Of course they tried, they really did, to stand their ground, but when faced with a Victoria Brompton onslaught, well even her most ardent of admirers crumble and crumble they did. I had witnessed at first hand a disappointed Victoria. They hadn't and everything that they tried to put forward was swatted away with such a degree of disdain that they looked as if they would prefer to walk in front of a firing squad than sit being lambasted by this beautiful girl who used her University education and business acumen to systematically destroy their arguments.
"So there we have it, to summarise. We will pay all of the policing costs, that is non-negotiable. We will implement the physical security measures but I won't give up driving and I won't be giving up using my phone. We will make plans to house the security team, exactly how; you will have to leave with me..."
She has the ability to smash you in the face and then to pick you up, dust you down and make you feel that you've had a victory and that's what she did to these guys. There was no doubt in my mind that she should have been the one going into politics.