by Susan Lewis
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Neve replied. ‘Why? Is something wrong?’
Before telling her Patsy said, ‘Where are you?’
‘Just coming out of school.’
‘Is Alan picking you up by any chance?’
Neve’s voice was clipped as she said, ‘No. Sasha’s housekeeper is. What’s happening? Why do you need to get hold of Mum?’
Taking a breath, Patsy said, ‘Lola’s just been taken to hospital. She …’
‘What?’ Neve broke in. ‘Oh my God. Is she all right? What happened?’
‘She’s possibly had some kind of stroke. I’m not sure how serious …’
‘She has to be all right,’ Neve cried in a panic. ‘I won’t let anything be wrong.’
‘It’s OK, they’re taking care of her. Just get Sasha’s housekeeper to drive you straight to the Chelsea and Westminster, and I’ll meet you there.’
Susannah was standing at the top of an elaborate, sweeping staircase, a bronze statue of Mercury behind her, and a beautifully crafted limestone arch framing her. Below was the Painted Hall, Chatsworth’s most impressive gallery. Currently it was playing host to the pre-three-day-event cocktail party that Susannah, as Marianne, had sneaked out of during the previous day’s shoot, to play another kind of scene altogether in an anteroom. Now, she was about to stage her entrance to the party, in wide shot, since the close-ups had already been covered.
‘Don’t forget,’ the director was saying from the bottom of the red-carpeted stairs, ‘leave a beat after action, then look around at the paintings and up at the ceiling, before you take in the party below.’
Understanding that was how they would cut from her to the magnificent Laguerres that dominated the room, Susannah gestured with a hand to say she’d heard, since a make-up artist was applying a final coating of gloss to her lips.
As soon as they were ready to roll Susannah cleared the arch and waited in the corridor beside it for her cue to step back in again. A few seconds passed during which she was aware of a small commotion down in the hall, but since she could no longer see from where she was, she had no idea what was happening. Then she heard the first assistant shout ‘Action!’ and slipping instantly into character, she sauntered into position at the top of the stairs where she stood, hand on hip, gazing imperiously around the hall and ceiling, before allowing her sphinx-like eyes to fall like a predator’s to the room below.
There was a second or two before the order to cut was given, and as she waited she noticed that Marlene had turned up. Surely she hadn’t come in person to respond to Susannah’s message earlier?
‘OK, that’s a wrap for Susannah,’ the director announced.
As everyone started moving around, derigging tracks and lights, Marlene came to the foot of the stairs. The look on her face caused Susannah a momentary unease.
‘Before you go,’ Marlene said, ‘I need to have a word.’
Susannah waited for her to climb the steps, then felt uneasy again as Marlene took her by the arm and drew her back into the corridor. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘I’m afraid I have some news you’re going to find a little upsetting,’ Marlene told her quietly.
Panic collided with the thud in Susannah’s heart. ‘Oh my God! Neve! Has she run away?’
Marlene frowned, but all she said was, ‘No, it’s not your daughter. We’ve just heard from your agent that your aunt has been taken to hospital.’
Susannah’s eyes rounded with horror. ‘What’s happened?’ she breathed.
‘It seems she’s probably had some kind of stroke.’
Susannah’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I have to go to her,’ she declared, starting to turn away. ‘I have to go now.’
Marlene grabbed her. ‘Of course, and it’s all been taken care of …’
‘Where is she? When did it happen?’
‘I believe it was earlier this afternoon. We received the call about half an hour ago …’
‘Half an hour!’ Susannah shouted. ‘You waited half an hour …’
‘We needed to get this scene in the can …’
‘Do you think I care about that? My aunt could be dying and you put your bloody schedule first.’
‘I have to take these things into consideration, but the time hasn’t been wasted. A production assistant has been to the lodge to pack a bag for you, which is already in the car that’s waiting outside to take you to London. I thought you’d prefer to be driven than to fuss about with trains.’
Confused and slightly chastened, Susannah said, ‘Yes, of course. Thank you. I have to go now. I need my phone …’
‘Here.’ A dresser was right behind her, handing over her location bag.
Taking it, Susannah said, ‘It was my agent who called?’
‘As I understand it a friend found your aunt and rang the emergency services. She couldn’t get through to you, so she contacted your agent to get a number here.’
Still not able to think straight, Susannah thanked her again and began running down the steps into the hall. A path opened up as she swept across the room to where a barrier of ropes and screens had been assembled to keep out the crowds.
‘See her outside,’ Marlene shouted to a security guard.
Immediately Susannah felt a strong hand on her arm that began steering her through the throng of tourists who’d got wind of the fact that she was there. She barely heard them calling her name and demanding autographs, but as though on autopilot she managed to smile and be polite as she apologised for being unable to stop.
Minutes later she was in the back of a unit car, speeding out of the grounds, and trying to contact Pats. Getting no reply, she left a message saying she was on her way, then tried her agent.
‘Yes, it was Patsy who found her,’ Dorothy confirmed. ‘She’s with her at the hospital now.’
‘Did she say how serious it is?’
‘I don’t think she knows yet. She just asked me to contact you to tell you to come.’
Susannah’s heart turned over. ‘I need to call her again,’ she murmured, and clicking off the line she was about to press in the number when Pats rang.
‘Did you get my message? I’m on my way,’ Susannah told her hurriedly. ‘How is she?’
‘I’m still not sure. No one’s come to speak to us yet, but Neve’s here, so as soon as there’s some news hopefully they’ll tell us.’
‘Was it a stroke?’
‘It hasn’t been confirmed, but that was definitely how it looked.’
‘Oh my God,’ Susannah murmured, her mind already spinning with the horror of losing Lola. Then, thinking of Neve, she asked Patsy to put her on.
‘Mum?’ Neve’s voice was tremulous and nasal. ‘Oh, Mum, they won’t let us see her.’
‘It’s OK, sweetheart. They will as soon as they’ve done what they have to.’
‘How long before you get here?’
‘A couple of hours, sooner if I can.’
‘What if she doesn’t get better? Oh Mum, I don’t want her to die.’
‘She won’t,’ Susannah said forcefully, as much to convince herself as to bolster Neve. ‘We need to be strong for her now.’
‘What if she can’t speak, or walk?’
‘Neve, darling, let’s try not to frighten ourselves. We need to hear what the doctor has to say, then we can work out what has to be done.’
‘I don’t know where I’m going to live if Lola’s …’
‘Sssh,’ Susannah soothed. ‘It’s going to be all right. Now can I speak to Patsy again?’
A moment later Patsy came back on the line.
‘Tell me what happened,’ Susannah said. ‘What was she like when you found her?’
As she listened to the details, she was finding it all too easy to envisage the scenario Pats was describing, Lola lying helplessly on the floor, maybe knowing what had happened to her but unable to communicate, or even move, and perhaps feeling as afraid as Susannah was now.
When Patsy
had finished she brushed away her tears, saying, ‘Do you think she might have been dazed by the blow to her head, rather than anything more serious?’
‘It’s always possible,’ Patsy said comfortingly. ‘It’s what we’re hoping.’
Unable to think about the chaos this could throw her life into if Lola didn’t come round, and not really caring either since Lola was all that mattered, Susannah said, ‘Someone’s trying to get through. I’ll call you back.’
After checking and seeing it was Michael Grafton, she clicked on, saying ‘Hello, I …’
‘Marlene just called me,’ he told her, ‘so I wanted to let you know that if there’s anything you need, or anything I can do … I’m in London for the rest of the week.’
‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’ Her throat was tightening again.
‘It’s OK, she’s in the right place,’ he said gently. ‘The Chelsea and Westminster has one of the country’s best stroke units, so if that’s what it is, she’ll be taken good care of.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Tears were starting to spill from her eyes. ‘I’m sure it’ll all be fine.’
In a voice that sounded reassuringly certain, he said, ‘I’m sure it will too.’
Just over three hours later Susannah was standing outside the Intensive Care Unit of the Chelsea and Westminster with Neve and Patsy, staring at a very young-looking doctor as he told them what had happened to Lola.
‘In simple language,’ he explained, ‘a transient ischaemic attack means that she suffered a brief interruption to the brain’s blood supply. It’s a kind of mini-stroke. Nothing to be unduly alarmed about, but it is a warning that a much more serious attack could occur if the right precautions aren’t taken.’
‘So what you’re saying,’ Susannah said, hanging on to his every word, ‘is that she’s going to be all right?’
He nodded, and smiled as Neve turned into her mother’s arms, sobbing with relief. ‘She still seems to be experiencing some numbness in her face and right arm,’ he told them, ‘but this should disappear within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. After that, I’d like to keep an eye on her for a couple of days while we assess her condition. She suffered a nasty concussion when she fell, and I’d like to run more tests before we make the final decision on whether surgery, or drug treatment, is the best course from here. If it’s the latter, she could be home again by Monday or Tuesday.’
Susannah turned to look through the glass wall to where Lola was lying on a narrow bed, her frail chest and limbs attached to all kinds of devices that gurgled and bleeped and hissed in a grisly kind of rap rhythm. ‘How long will she be like that?’ she asked.
‘We’ll transfer her to the stroke unit in the morning,’ he answered. ‘Right now she’s quite heavily sedated, so if I were you I’d go home, get some rest, and come back again in the morning.’
Susannah was still looking at Lola.
‘Why don’t I stay?’ Patsy suggested. ‘If anything changes I’ll call right away.’
‘No Mum, let’s stay,’ Neve pleaded, her face as bloodless as Susannah’s.
‘She’s unlikely to come round,’ the doctor told them, ‘and if you do stay, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait out here, or in the cafeteria.’
Susannah’s gaze still hadn’t moved from Lola. ‘I can’t leave her,’ she said, afraid that if she did the bond between them might start to fray.
‘Then that’s decided,’ Patsy announced to the doctor, ‘wherever we have to wait, we’ll wait.’
He smiled kindly, and after assuring them once again that Lola’s condition was not life-threatening, he returned to the ICU where a nurse was waiting to consult him about another patient.
‘There’s a Starbucks downstairs,’ Patsy reminded them a few minutes later. ‘Does anyone feel like a coffee?’
Susannah nodded, and going to Lola’s bedside she pressed a kiss to her fingers, then touched them gently to Lola’s papery old cheek. There was no outward response, but she was sure that on some level her aunt would know she was there and feel as dearly loved as she was.
A few minutes later, as they rode down in the lift, Susannah turned her phone back on and saw, to her surprise, that there was still no message from Alan. ‘That’s odd,’ she said, too numb to wonder for long about why he hadn’t been in touch.
‘When did you last speak to him?’ Patsy asked.
Susannah thought. ‘This morning, I guess. Or it might have been yesterday. I’m starting to lose track of time.’
As they stepped out of the lift into the lobby Neve muttered something that the others didn’t catch. Her own mobile was clutched tightly in her hand, but she made no attempt to turn it on. She didn’t want to speak to anyone tonight, or ever again, except her mother and Pats and Lola.
For most of the past hour the sun had been blinding, making the drive even more hazardous than the speeding maniacs and centre-lane huggers that were clogging up the M1. Now twilight was falling and, having pulled into a service area, Alan turned off the engine and sat with his eyes closed for a while, listening to the distant roar of traffic and occasional burble of voices as people walked by.
In the end, as the throbbing in his head started to subside, he turned on his mobile and pressed in his lawyer’s home number.
‘Where are you?’ Ken asked as soon as he answered.
‘On my way back to London.’
‘How did it go?’
Letting out a turbulent sigh, Alan said, ‘The girl’s still delusional, her mother’s hysterical and that damned brother of hers should be locked up.’
‘I wouldn’t argue with that, but I have more news for you. Apparently Mr Grafton, Susannah’s boss, is keen to speak to you.’
Alan’s eyes were closed again. His skull seemed to be pressing in around his brain as though to crush it. He was trying to make himself think, but a terrible, black fear was tangling all the threads of his thoughts. ‘I can fight this,’ he said weakly. ‘They’re lying and they know it, but the position it puts me in …’
‘Did they threaten to go to the police while you were there?’
‘Of course. They always do, but they won’t because they don’t have a case. I never touched the girl, Ken. It’s all in her head.’
‘Don’t worry, I believe you, and if they were serious about reporting anything they’d have done it a long time ago. Nevertheless, you can’t take any risks. That kind of mud sticks to a man for life, whether or not the accusations are true.’
Alan winced as the truth shot through his head like a pain. ‘Tell me something I don’t already know,’ he growled. ‘It’ll finish me.’
‘Then we have to make sure it doesn’t happen. How have you left it with Pace and his sister?’
‘The same way I always do – I told them if they don’t stop hounding me I’ll have to go to the police myself, then they’ll have to deal with the social stigma and trauma they’re so desperate to avoid.’
‘I’m beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t make good on your word. You’ve got nothing to hide. As you say, you’ve never touched the girl, and if you get in first, a man with your training and …’
‘It’s not going to happen,’ Alan cut in.
‘But it can’t go on like this. As an innocent man you shouldn’t be made to suffer …’
‘Listen, what should, or shouldn’t, happen has no bearing on what will happen if I have to face charges of this sort.’
‘Maybe we should talk to a barrister.’
‘Maybe, but I can’t think about it now. I’ve got more calls to make and there’s still a long drive ahead.’
‘So what do you want me to tell Grafton’s lawyer if he calls again?’
‘To mind his own goddamned business.’
‘With pleasure, but a man in Grafton’s position isn’t someone to antagonise, and think of it this way, if he wants to talk to you, it’s presumably because he’s prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt.’
With a bitter snarl, Alan
said, ‘Well isn’t that good of him?’ Then, after another protracted sigh, he said, ‘Let me think about it. There are other things going on right now that I have to deal with, so hold fire on everything until we speak again tomorrow.’
After ringing off, he sat staring blindly at nothing, hearing the thud of his heart through the drone of fear that was clogging his ears. When he finally felt able he connected to Susannah, who answered on the third ring.
‘Darling, hi, I’ve just got your messages,’ he said. ‘Before we go any further, just tell me, how’s Lola?’
‘Stable,’ Susannah answered. Her tone was flat, she sounded tired. ‘They’re keeping her in for a few days.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘In a coffee shop with Patsy and Neve. Where are you?’
‘On my way home. I’m sorry I’ve been out of contact. I’ll explain everything when I get there.’
‘We’re staying at the hospital tonight,’ she told him.
‘Do you want me to come?’
‘You don’t have to. It’s best there aren’t too many of us here.’
‘Of course. What about Neve? Should I come and collect her? I’m sure you’re both exhausted and one of you at least should get some sleep.’
As Susannah put the question to Neve he felt himself tense hard enough to crack his bones. ‘She wants to stay here,’ she told him, coming back on the line.
‘OK. Before you go, have you had any unusual calls in the last, say, twenty-four hours? I mean, apart from the one about Lola.’
‘What do you mean? Unusual in what way?’
‘If you’d received any, you’d know, so I’ll take it you haven’t.’
‘Alan, you’re not making any sense.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s just a disturbed client who’s been … Listen, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. When are you going back to Derbyshire?’
‘I’m not sure yet. I want to see how she is in the morning.’
‘OK. Try, if you can, to get some sleep. Remember, it’s not only you you have to think about now.’
As he rang off his eyes closed briefly, then steeling himself again, he connected to Neve’s mobile, not sure how he was going to get her away from her mother tonight, just knowing he had to.
