Imogen remained doubtful. “Is he really going to give up his bachelor lifestyle for the sake of a piece of jewellery?”
“Several pieces of jewellery. Last valued at 100K!”
“No!”
“Yes, apparently so.”
As they wrapped their arms around each other, giggling and frolicking on the wet sand, a larger wave suddenly rolled in and crashed over them, soaking them both to the waist. They laughed even louder and then shared a passionate kiss as they got drenched again.
“I love you, Mr Cartwright,” Imogen gushed.
“And I love you, Mrs Cartwright-Ferguson.”
“Decision made?” They had recently been discussing names with both themselves and the imminent arrival in mind.
“Yep.”
“So what happened to Fergus Cartwright or Carter Ferguson?”
“Well, it might be a girl.”
“True. Does she still inherit the jewellery?”
“Yes, gender doesn’t come into it.”
“Cartwright-Ferguson it is then. I like it.”
Imogen screamed and then giggled as the next wave sent some spray splashing right over their heads.
Chapter 25
Jasmine sat on the sofa in her treasured studio and stared at the blank canvas on her easel. She didn’t have the heart to begin a picture, or even to think of a subject, because the memory of that disastrous evening in the restaurant, three weeks ago, was refusing to fade. She worried about her father. She was furious with her mother. She missed Maggie. And she blamed herself.
None of this would have happened if I hadn’t listened in to that phone call six months ago. Or if I had chosen to ignore it. Mum and Dad wouldn’t have split up. Mum would still be having the odd weekend away, but was it doing us any harm? Compared to this! I wouldn’t have been out for that meal with Dad so we wouldn’t have met Maggie and her mother. I would never have known about her connection with Alastair and the accident. Why did I have to get involved?
But then she looked at it from a different angle.
Mum mentioned Grant Cartwright’s name in that telephone conversation with Douglas McKendrick. All that business about a letter he should have received. And I told Sam. That’s what they were talking about in the supermarket that time. When Grant told him about this flat. Which is how I ended up living here. Otherwise I might never have met Alastair.
She began to cheer up. She couldn’t imagine life now without her adorable and captivating boyfriend and was definitely head over heels in love with every bone in his body. Finding out the name of the person responsible for his injuries, and realising that the culprit was connected to a family they knew, had been in some ways traumatic for both Alastair and his mother, but in other ways cathartic. At long last they had the closure they had always craved. But whilst none of them laid any blame at Maggie’s door, Jasmine had not yet found the inner strength she needed to make contact and Maggie hadn’t been in touch with her either. Their friendship was in limbo, maybe even extinct.
Jasmine picked up a picture which was sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall. It was a seascape that her friend had given her in exchange for a portrait she had painted, working from a photograph of Lawrence. As she admired the clever brushstrokes making up the fabric of the fishing boats and the range of blue and green hues used to depict the realistic-looking waves, her mobile started to ring in her handbag. By the time she located it in the bedroom, the ringing had stopped but a text message was buzzing through. She saw DM in the caller display and opened it right away.
I don’t want to alarm you Jasmine but your mother has taken ill and is in hospital. Give me a ring. Douglas
She called him immediately.
“What’s happened? Why is Mum in hospital?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong. She collapsed earlier this morning.”
“I’m coming over to see her. Have you told the rest of the family too?”
“No. I thought you would be the easiest to approach. Perhaps you could inform them for me.”
“Yes, of course.” Was that some kind of compliment? It didn’t really matter. “Is she conscious?”
Douglas told her that Patty was drifting in and out of consciousness and that the doctors were doing various tests. He sounded worried.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Jasmine promised. “Text me the details of where she is. Please. And thank you for calling me.”
Douglas assured her that he would keep her abreast of any developments and sent the requested information. Jasmine phoned her brother.
“So you’re going to head over today?” Sam was trying to get his head round the unexpected development. “How are you placed for work?”
“I’m due a few days off before Easter. I’ll just take them now. It’ll be fine. I wanted to visit Mum anyway. There’s something very strange about her break-up with Dad. I think they’re keeping something from us.”
“Well, let me know how she is. I suppose I should tell him.”
“Maybe wait until we know more,” Jasmine cautioned. “We don’t want him coming face to face with McKendrick in a hospital ward.”
“I think Scotland is the last place on earth that he’ll want to visit,” Sam replied. “I’ll say nothing until I hear from you.”
“What about Molly?”
“Same goes for her. She doesn’t even know about the split yet! If she extends this holiday any longer she won’t recognise us as the family she left behind.”
“At least she has the spirit of adventure. I envy her that. We must seem awfully dull in comparison.”
“But will she be able to cope when she comes back to earth with a bump and has to start studying? And she’ll need a part-time job. She’ll have to start paying her way. She can’t go on sponging off Mum and Dad.”
Jasmine was in total agreement with her brother on that score but felt they were digressing from the problem in hand. She ended the conversation and set about booking herself a plane ticket to Edinburgh and organising a few days’ leave. Then she phoned Alastair to explain what was happening. Within a couple of hours she had a bag packed and was heading for the airport.
***
Patricia gradually became aware of a buzz of conversation around her, the beeping of machines, a strong smell of antiseptic. She tried to open her eyes. They felt so tired, so heavy, so glazed over. But after a few minutes the hospital ward began to come into focus. Three beds opposite her, one on either side of her, all occupied by patients who were sitting up, chatting to visitors. A tube attached to a cannula in her left hand leading to a bag of liquid which was slowly dripping into her veins. Then the blurred vision disappeared again as her eyes failed in their struggle to remain open. Numbly she racked her brain, trying to make sense of it all.
What am I doing in hospital? What’s wrong with me? Why isn’t Kenneth here? Everyone else has visitors.
Aware suddenly of a movement by her side, Patricia forced her eyes open again and saw that there was a nurse checking her drip. She cleared her throat with a little cough to attract her attention.
“Ah, you’re awake,” said the nurse. “How are you feeling?”
It was the Scottish accent that immediately brought Patricia back down to earth, reminding her where she lived nowadays. Tears formed in her eyes as the full extent of the realisation dawned on her.
Of course Kenneth isn’t here. He’s miles away across the sea in Belfast, thinking that I don’t love him anymore. But I do. More than ever. I’ve made such a mess of things.
She tried to focus her eyes on the nurse who was now leaning over her and smiling. “Where am I?” she asked tentatively. “What’s happened to me? I can’t remember.”
“I’ll just go and let the doctor know you’re awake,” the nurse replied. “That’s some sleep you’ve had.”
Patr
icia closed her eyes again and allowed her thoughts to drift into the realms she had hitherto avoided.
I want my old life back. I want to be with Casey. In my own house. Where I can see the children regularly. I don’t belong here. Mia resents me. We used to get on so well. She didn’t seem to mind me having an affair with her dad. Until I moved in. Now she obviously feels threatened. She’s become so cold and hostile. Even her dog has turned against me and growls at me when we’re alone together. Mia was mistress of the house for so long. She had her own way of doing things. If I were in her shoes I would feel resentful. How long is it since her mother died? Over ten years. Dougie had led her to believe that she would inherit the house, lock, stock and barrel. But what if he marries me? He has hinted at it. Where would that leave Mia? And where would it leave me? And then there’s Barbara! I feel so uncomfortable around Dougie’s sister-in-law. She only lives across the road and she’s been so welcoming to me, inviting me over for coffee, showing me albums of photos taken over the years. So many pictures of that handsome, smiling face. Her husband. The man that Casey killed.
The tears came now, thick and fast. Patricia allowed them to flow. She still had no idea why she was in hospital. The visitors were starting to drift away from the other beds around her and she was dimly aware of a bell ringing in the background. The nurse came back and pulled a blue curtain around her bed.
“Doctor’s on her way,” she said kindly, noticing the tears and thrusting a wad of tissues into her hand. Then she checked her blood pressure and temperature and filled in the chart which was hanging over the end of the bed. Patricia spotted that she had beautiful brown eyes. She reminded her of Molly, the daughter she hadn’t seen for almost a year. She wondered briefly whether the others had told Molly what was going on. She hadn’t. She had somehow managed to palm her off when she asked difficult questions, had kept the conversation focused on Molly’s travels and adventures, the places she’d seen, the people she’d met, giving her only the most trivial of information about herself. Now she asked herself why.
She’s going to find out eventually. She’ll be furious that we’ve kept this from her. And I don’t even know how to explain it now. The biggest mistake of my life.
Dr Melrose arrived and introduced herself. She checked the observations on the chart and asked Patricia how she was feeling, why she was crying.
“I was just thinking about my family,” Patricia bluffed, “and wondering how I came to be here.”
“You passed out at home this morning. Your husband has been here most of the day. He’s just gone downstairs for something to eat. I’ve asked the nurse to tell him that you’re awake.”
“My husband?” For a split second Patricia’s heart was filled with warmth and hope.
“Mr McKendrick,” the doctor replied, consulting her notes.
“Of course,” Patricia sighed, deflated.
“Is there someone else we should have contacted?”
Sadly Patricia shook her head. “No, no it’s fine. I live with Mr McKendrick.”
“Ah, but he’s not your husband. Sorry.”
“So what’s wrong with me?” Patricia asked, changing the subject.
“It would appear to be a medication issue,” Dr Melrose told her. “I need to know exactly what you took this morning, especially anything you haven’t had before and anything was wasn’t prescribed by your GP. Did you maybe take a double dose of something? There are traces of various substances in your bloodstream.” When Patricia didn’t answer at once the doctor added, “Is everything all right in your life at the moment? You looked disappointed when you realised that it wasn’t your husband who was here. Are you still in touch with him? Is your life happy?”
Patricia dried her tears and stared at the doctor, horrified. “You think I did this on purpose! You think I tried to top myself!”
“I didn’t say that.” The doctor spoke calmly. “I just need to know what you’ve taken and why.”
“I know you didn’t say it. But you’re thinking it. Well, let me tell you the truth. No, everything is not all right in my life. But it’s my own fault. My husband did not leave me; I left him. And I regret it. It’s not that I don’t love Dougie as well but I miss my home and my family. More than you can imagine. However, I did not and would not try to harm myself or do myself in. I have so much to live for. Three children. And a grandson. I love them all dearly.”
“I have to consider all options, Patricia. I’m sorry. You just looked so sad.”
“I am a bit sad. But I’m not suicidal. You have to take my word for it.”
“Not even a cry for help?”
“No, never!”
“OK, I believe you,” she smiled. “Now start by telling me what drugs you take on a regular basis.”
Before she could answer Douglas arrived, racing over to the bed with a wide smile on his flushed face.
“I’ve been sitting here for hours,” he quipped jocularly, “and then you go and waken up as soon as I leave the room!” As he kissed her tenderly on the cheek, Patricia gave the doctor a look of caution, hoping to convey the fact that the things they had just discussed should remain private. The doctor gave her a nod in return.
Following some discussion and a couple of phone calls it turned out that Patricia had indeed taken the wrong medicine that morning. She had absent-mindedly swallowed what was in the little cup that Mia had put out for her father on the breakfast table and, not realising that his daughter had organised his pills for him, Douglas had simply taken a second dose from the bottles in the kitchen cupboard so the mistake had not been spotted. Instead of her own medication for mild headaches, Patricia had in fact taken drugs that Douglas used daily to treat a potentially serious heart condition. In addition to this the sleeping tablet that she now remembered taking in the early hours had probably exacerbated the effect on her body. It was little wonder that she had collapsed but fortunately, according to Dr Melrose, there should not be any long-term consequences. They would keep her in overnight for observation but she would probably be discharged in the morning.
Douglas breathed a sigh of relief. “I shouldn’t have worried your family,” he said, as the doctor moved away.
“You told them about this?” Patricia quizzed.
“I spoke to Jasmine.”
Patricia just nodded her head.
“I hope you don’t mind but I was feeling very anxious. It could have been something really serious.”
“Hey, you don’t need to justify yourself. Of course I don’t mind. You did the right thing.”
“She’s probably on her way over here as we speak.”
Patricia took a deep breath, revelling in the anticipation of seeing her elder daughter. Would she really come rushing to her bedside? Where would she stay? Not with Dougie, surely. That would be so awkward. And more ammunition for Mia. What time of day was it anyway? Her eyes were so heavy, her mind so confused. She took a glance at Douglas and felt guilty when she saw the concern and the tiredness etched on his face. Stress wasn’t good for him; he never dwelt on the fact that he had a heart condition but the shared knowledge had always been there in the background. “You go on home,” she said gently. “I’ll be fine now. I’m sorry you’ve wasted all those hours.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I maybe will call it a day.”
“You need to rest. You must be exhausted. I’m in good hands here.”
“I love you, Patty. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come through this. I was so worried.”
“Go home,” she answered firmly, dismissing him with a smile.
He gave her a kiss. “OK, see you tomorrow. I love you.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say it back but just followed him sadly with her eyes as he left the ward. Despite the recriminations and regrets going through her mind she was soon fast asleep, unaware of the unspeakable anguish that
awaited her in the morning.
***
They both received the devastating news at once, Kenneth in his lonely sitting-room in Belfast and Patricia in her hospital bed in Edinburgh, the same text message that simultaneously shattered both their worlds. Molly was missing, presumed drowned.
Part Three
Chapter 26
“Meet Victoria Esme,” Imogen said proudly, as she carefully laid the baby in Jasmine’s lap and smiled happily at Alastair. “She’s two months old today.” Jasmine stared at the child and panicked. She didn’t know how to react. Her emotions were all over the place these days.
“Here, give her to me.” Jillian noticed her friend’s discomfort and immediately jumped to her aid with outstretched arms. Imogen and Grant had arrived for an impromptu visit, unannounced, while Jillian was entertaining her friends from downstairs.
“No, it’s OK.” Jasmine told her. “She’s gorgeous. And it feels nice, cuddling her.”
Grant had gone straight to the kitchen where he was sharing a joke with Bradley. Alastair leaned over his girlfriend and softly touched the baby’s face, then gently lifted one little hand and examined the tiny fingers. He gave Jasmine a questioning glance. She shook her head. “No,” she mouthed, shaking her head again. And then, without warning, she started to cry. Imogen was alarmed and quickly retrieved her daughter from her friend’s lap, muttering an apology and something about it being too soon. Jasmine nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself.
I feel so guilty every time I even smile. It doesn’t seem right to smile, to laugh, to feel happiness. So how have I managed to get myself pregnant? Before my sister is even cold in her grave. She would have been twenty-three last month, just a couple of weeks after this child was born. Her whole life ahead of her. A glittering career, boyfriends, marriage, babies of her own. But none of that is going to happen now. And how have I consoled myself? I’m a disgrace. I’ve sullied her memory. I want this baby so much but I don’t deserve it.
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