Maria’s relief was so colossal, she wanted to kneel at the woman’s feet. An expert and professional was infinitely superior to some bumbling, nervy mother like herself.
Amy, however, seemed distinctly thrown and, even after Linda returned and took over from her colleague, continued groaning and complaining. ‘Can’t you let me off this bloody thing?’ she wailed, pulling against the straps. ‘I can’t stand it any longer.’
‘It’s important for the baby,’ Linda reminded her, patiently, ‘as I explained to you before. We need to keep a constant check on how he or she is doing, right up to the birth.’
‘And when will that be?’ Amy asked, sarcastically. ‘Next week?’
‘You’re doing great,’ Linda soothed. ‘In half an hour, you’re due for another internal, and I reckon you’ll be six centimetres dilated.’
‘That’s nothing.’ Amy gave a sigh of mingled exhaustion and despair. ‘I’ve still got ages to go.’
‘Yes, but every contraction brings you nearer the moment when you’ll hold your son or daughter in your arms.’
Amy’s only response was a grunt, followed by a gasping shriek, as she fought the next contraction.
Her gown was rucked up in the effort, affording Maria a glimpse of her daughter’s naked belly. It looked so huge and solid, she longed to crack it open like an egg and release the baby simply, swiftly, without these hours of pain.
‘I’m bloody hot,’ Amy protested, once the contraction had passed. ‘And getting disgustingly sweaty under these straps. Why do I have to have my baby in fucking July?’
Maria felt embarrassed by the swear words, which Amy never normally used. But, as she recalled from her own experience, labour made you foul-tongued and hysterical. She wrung out the flannel in the coldest possible water and sponged her daughter’s sweaty face and hands. Expecting a rebuff, she was inordinately pleased when Amy squeezed her hand affectionately instead.
‘Right,’ said Linda, ‘let’s get back to the gas-and-air, in time for the next contraction.’
Leaving Linda to cope, Maria moved to the window, still needing to recover from the recent shock. She pushed aside the curtain, but the frosted glass blankedit to Amy – not until she’s stronger – but I’m in pretty serious trouble. The
only thing that matters at this moment out any view and all she could see was murky, clotted darkness, pressing against the pane. Wasn’t that like the present situation: everything sombre, blurry and uncertain – and, as Amy had just pointed out – no prospect of any light until much more time had passed? Yet, whatever it required in terms of patience and endurance, she knew she had to be there for her daughter and – please God – for the baby, if it did survive.
‘Hi! I’m Dr Herbert, the doctor on duty tonight. I’ve just come to say hello.’
Maria murmured a greeting to the tubby man in blue scrubs – a genial-looking character, with a shock of ginger hair and joltingly scarlet socks. Amy, however, barely opened her eyes. The change in her was remarkable; no longer irascible and overwrought, but relaxed and even dozy. Three hours ago, she’d become so distraught, she’d changed her mind about the Pethidine injection – suddenly grabbing Linda’s arm and screaming at the top of her voice that she’d swallow a ton of morphine, if only it would dull the pain. Not only had the opiate worked; its effect had been dramatic.
‘I hear you’ve been a tower of strength,’ the doctor remarked to Maria, once he had checked the monitor and exchanged a few words with Linda.
A tower of strength? A ruined shack, more like it. Her back ached, her legs were cramped, her stomach rumbled audibly, but with Amy still in labour it seemed reprehensible to think about herself. Yet she couldn’t help wondering how long she could continue to play a supportive role while she felt so tired and drained. Her watch said 4.15, but time seemed suspended, as if she’d been confined to this room for days or even weeks.
Once the doctor had left, Linda put a hand on her shoulder, as if picking up on her thoughts. ‘That Pethidine injection will wear off pretty soon, so why not take the chance, while Amy’s quiet, to give yourself a break? You do look really weary, and I think you need to stretch your legs and get something to eat and drink. You’ll find vending machines on the ground floor and the lower-ground. They’re not that marvellous, to tell the truth, but at least they’ll fill the hole.’
‘Good idea. Thanks so much. In fact, thanks for everything.’ In contrast to her own state, Linda was still her serene and energetic self, despite the fact she had been on duty for eight-and-a-quarter hours. ‘You’ve been an absolute saint.’
The midwife shook her head in deprecation. ‘You save your thanks for when the baby’s born. I’m due to go off duty at eight, but I hope I’ll get to deliver this baby we’ve all been waiting for!’
‘You mean Amy’s less than four hours away from the birth?’
‘Yes, roughly that, I’d say. In three-quarters of an hour, I’ll give her another internal and I reckon she’ll be almost fully dilated.’
Linda appeared to assume there would be no major problems, yet she herself dared not be so confident. Not only was the baby premature, but a whole raft of things might go wrong in the course of the actual delivery.
As she made her way out of the ward, she passed other labouring mothers; some walking up and down, hugely pregnant and supported by their partners. She willed them to have their babies soon, and safely; to be spared too much pain or trauma, or – God forbid – any defect in the child. And she was suddenly aware of all the mothers giving birth in every country in the world; despairing, desperate ones, maybe, squatting in shanty-towns or hovels, concerned about their ability to feed yet another mouth. She sent up a silent prayer for each and every one, whatever their hardships or their situation: ‘Let all those infants survive. Let the mothers manage, somehow.’
Once in the lift, she pressed the button for the lower-ground floor, as if needing to hide away for a while; an exhausted creature creeping down to the shelter of its burrow. And it did prove restful in the quiet, deserted basement, where the usual harsh hospital lights were mercifully dimmed, and no one was scurrying about, trying to deal with patients in crises.
She traipsed along to the vending machines and, having found one that sold ice-cream, decided to treat herself to three tubs of Ben and Jerry’s. OK, it was greedy, but she needed strength and sustenance to help Amy through the birth. However, before she ate or drank a thing, it was imperative to ring Hugo again.
Perching on one of the uncomfortable metal seats adjoining the machines, she rummaged for her mobile, hardly daring to imagine the extent of her anxiety if, still, he failed to answer.
‘Hugo, you’re there! Thank God. But where on earth have you been? We’ve—’
‘Never mind where I’ve been. What the hell’s going on with Amy? I’ve only just picked up her calls.’
Maria heard the note of panic in his voice. ‘Don’t worry – she’s OK.’
‘You mean she didn’t lose the baby?’
‘No, she went into labour early and she’s only a few hours off the birth now, but she’s in the best possible hands. We’re just praying everything will be all right.’
‘I still don’t understand what happened. Can you fill me in?’
Having explained the last twelve hours, Maria added, as tactfully as possible, Amy’s intense concern about the fact that her husband and birth partner had been out of contact all night.
‘Christ! I’m sorry, Maria, but yesterday’s meeting dragged on much longer than anyone expected and—’
A note of embarrassment, even a certain defensiveness, had crept into his voice.
‘We were so shattered by the time it broke up, Stuart suggested we went on to his Yacht Club, to recover – just the two of us. There was quite a crowd in the bar, including some of my friends from the old days, and – you know how it is – one drink led to another and then we started playing snooker and I just lost track of time. I also totally forgot to switch my mobile
back on.’
‘But we rang your hotel, as well, and they said you hadn’t been back.’
There was a pause before he replied.
‘No, I spent the night at Stuart’s place. He was keen for me to see his new pad. It’s only minutes from the club, you see, and, once we were there, he opened a bottle of bubbly, to celebrate his house move, and then embarked on a great long saga about his latest girlfriend. And, by that time, it was so late, we just crashed out.’
Both of you pretty pickled, Maria refrained from saying.
‘In fact, I only surfaced five minutes ago and, of course, the first thing I did was listen to my messages and—’
‘Amy’s frightfully keen you get here,’ Maria cut in, aware that time was of the essence. ‘Her labour’s been quite gruelling and this final stage will be more so. So can you get to the airport as soon as you possibly can?’
‘Hold on a minute! It’s already nearly nine here and by the time I’ve washed and shaved, got back to my hotel to pick up my passport, taken a cab to the airport and hung around for a flight, I couldn’t possibly reach London in time.’
‘Well, obviously you’ll miss the birth, but at least you can see the baby on its birthday and can spend the evening with Amy.’
Another pause.
‘Maria, I’m sorry, but this simply isn’t on. I have to be in court first thing tomorrow morning. Sunday in Dubai is like Monday in the UK – the beginning of the working week – so there’s absolutely no way I could fly to Heathrow and back again, and be here in time for the start of the court proceedings.’
‘But surely, if you’ve just become a father, they’ll let you miss a day or two.’
‘It’s not a question of “letting” me – it’s a question of how it might look to the prosecution. They’ll use it as a weapon in their case and make out I’m running away.’
‘I don’t follow. What do you mean?’
The longest pause of all.
‘Maria, I didn’t want to tell you this and, for God’s sake, don’t mention it to Amy – not until she’s stronger – but I’m in pretty serious trouble. The only thing that matters at this moment is not whether I see the baby tonight, or in a week or so, but whether I’m able to make any sort of life for it in the future. I just have to stay and fight my corner, or I could lose my present job, my livelihood – even our house, for God’s sake!’
Despite the heat of the hospital, Maria felt a sudden chill shudder through her body. How could her solid, dependable, upright son-in-law be facing dishonour and insolvency?
‘I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ he added, obviously trying to reassure her, although the casual tone sounded decidedly fake. ‘Our lawyers are pretty damned good and, at the meeting yesterday, they came up with a new strategy that could save the situation. But it would be suicide for me to leave at this critical juncture.’
‘I see,’ she said. She did see. But it didn’t prevent her being furious, on Amy’s behalf, as well as on her own, that, once again, a man should be absent, unavailable and devious.
‘What I suggest,’ Hugo continued, with the same feigned nonchalance, ‘is that you take some photos of the baby, as soon as it’s delivered, and send them straight across to my mobile.’
‘Yes, of course I will. Good idea.’ How could photos be a substitute for holding your own baby in your arms; introducing yourself as its father?
‘And tell Amy I’ll phone her as soon as she’s able to take calls. But not a word about all this, remember.’
‘Look,’ she said, sharply, ‘Amy already knows you’re pretty deeply implicated.’
‘Yes, but since she and I last spoke, things have … changed – and changed for the worse.’
‘Don’t talk in riddles, Hugo. I need to know what’s going on, so could you please be straight with me.’
‘Well,’ he said, impatiently, ‘the protective coating applied to the steel cladding was considerably cheaper than the one in the actual spec and—’
‘Which I already know,’ she interrupted, refusing to let him get away with prevarication. ‘But it doesn’t explain why you’re in “pretty serious trouble”, as you call it.’
‘OK, I was at fault – that I can’t deny. But I was so tied up with the purchase of our London house, it was all too easy to cut corners and lose focus. At the time, I was negotiating long-distance with a singularly inept estate agent in London, so the pressures were enormous. And, in the circumstances, I admit I let things slip through, because I was relying more on the contractors than I should.’
‘Forget the contractors. Let’s stick with you, OK?’
‘Maria, you don’t understand – it was the contractors who fouled up and, by the time I’d discovered they’d used an inferior coating, it was too late to start again from scratch. And, of course, to save their own skins, they were keen for me to hush things up. But the client happens to know I was a bit strapped to raise the deposit on the property, so he’s making out that I benefitted from it personally.’
‘And did you?’ she demanded, determined to put him on the spot.
No answer.
‘Hugo, I’m asking you, is there any truth in what the client claims?’
‘Well, I suppose you could say the contractors made it, er … worth my while to turn a blind eye.’
‘Are you telling me you took a bribe?’
‘No,’ he said, instantly defensive. ‘I see it more in terms of a fee – you know, for solving their problem. They had their reputations to protect so, in a way, I was doing them a favour.’
Disgusted by his weasel-words, she sagged back in her seat, trying to come to terms with the fact that it no longer seemed a matter of negligence and oversight, but of downright fraud and corruption. And what if he were concealing more transgressions? Might he even land up in gaol?
Yet, when she tried to probe further, he suddenly clammed up, as if regretting everything he’d said so far.
Angry at his resort to silence, she returned to the attack. ‘It seems pretty clear to me that, however you try to present it, it was still basically a bribe.’
‘Maria, for heaven’s sake, you’re focusing on just one single aspect. What you don’t appear to realize is the huge financial implications of not completing a project on time. If we hadn’t complied with the contract programme, we’d have incurred cripplingly heavy penalties – and I’m talking as much as fifty grand a week. So, if I’d taken a strong line and insisted on removing the existing coating and applying the correct one, it would have delayed the programme fatally and left the contractor severely out of pocket. Then the firm would have been accused of mismanagement and all hell would have broken loose.’
‘But what about the trouble you’re in now – not to mention your legal costs?’
‘Well, I admit that could be a problem if the firm hold me personally responsible and insist I engage my own lawyer. But, should that be the case, I’ll make sure I find a really resourceful chap, who’ll come up with a strong defence and claim mitigating circumstances.’
‘I shouldn’t have thought,’ she countered, icily, ‘that buying a house was an excuse for taking a bribe.’
‘I’ve told you – it wasn’t a bribe,’ he snapped. ‘You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, so I refuse to discuss it further.’
Never before had her son-in-law addressed her in so rude and hostile a tone. Yet never before had he ever dreamed of confiding in her – actually admitting blame in the court case, at least to some extent, and notwithstanding his pathetically flimsy excuses. But, whatever he might have done, and however seriously implicated he might turn out to be, it was essential that they didn’t quarrel; he was her precious daughter’s husband, the father of the baby.
‘OK,’ she said, struggling to sound calm and friendly, despite her deep dismay. ‘It is all very complicated, so I grant you I may not understand the technicalities. And, anyway,’ she added, ‘I’d better get back to Amy. She’s pretty close to delivery.’
She registered the relief in his voice, as he too adopted a far more peaceable tone.
‘I have to say, Maria, I’m damned glad you’re holding the fort. And you’re probably doing a far better job as birth partner than I ever would. Just between you and me, I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect! Amy’s such a perfectionist, she might have felt I hadn’t come up to scratch.’
Again, it was a shock that he should permit her to see a far less confident side to him than the self-assured outer shell he had always presented previously. Was he still hungover, she wondered, or had the stress of these last few days undermined his usual coping strategies? Yet she couldn’t help reflecting that it was hardly any wonder he saw Amy as a perfectionist if he himself was prepared to let his own financial needs overrule high professional standards.
‘Well, give her my special love and let me know the minute the baby’s born.’
‘Of course I will.’ At least they’d managed to re-establish a cordial relationship, but, the minute she rang off, she sprang up from her seat and paced to and fro in an agitated state, unable to return to Amy until she had tried to calm the turmoil in her mind. Had her daughter any notion of how Hugo operated? Had he ‘cut corners’ on previous assignments; pocketed other backhanders?
Exhausted as she was, she could barely take in all the ramifications this latest bombshell threatened for the future. Having been up all night, her mind seemed out of service. The only breaks she’d had, so far, were two trips to the toilet and a brief stroll along the third-floor corridor, shortly after midnight. Yet, whatever the state of her grey cells, her chest and stomach had registered the news: one uncomfortably tight, the other churning with nerves, which made it impossible to eat or drink.
Hardly aware what she was doing, she found herself dialling Felix’s number, not caring that he would be fast asleep at this hour of the morning. However, when he answered, sounding drowsy, she immediately felt awkward, recalling their recent row, the violent sex and her equally violent sobbing. Indeed, he too seemed constrained; expecting another attack, maybe.
An Enormous Yes Page 36
