by Ian Harwood
Juliet laughs a little at my joke and shrugs. “She went on her own accord, Joe. You couldn’t do anything to stop her. Although, it’s just the man you are. Why do you think I like you so much? ”
I know she’s teasing, but before I can make any comment, her mobile phone rings and she digs a hand into her pocket and connects the call. “Mum! I didn’t expect your call for another hour or two…”
Whatever she was about to say was cut off and the tenor to the silence has my eyes flickering to look at her. She’s pale and growing paler. Her flesh has a nasty grey tinge to it and spying it, I pull off the road as soon as I’m safely able to do so and come to a halt.
“He’s not dead?” Juliet asks, her voice near hysterical. Her head began to tip from side to side as though she couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. And I don’t know how I knew it, but I could tell that she was, at that moment, deaf to whatever Rebecca was saying.
Grabbing the phone from her, I’m not shocked that Juliet puts up no resistance; her hand falls limply to her lap. “Rebecca, what’s going on?”
The sounds of sobbing fills my ear and Bo’s shaky voice replies, “Dad’s had a heart attack, Joe.”
Not expecting Bo, I’m nevertheless relieved. Talking to Rebecca is like talking to the wall. You get more sense out of the wallpaper than you do her. I know she’s a lovely woman, but she’s not the best person to get information out of… and I can only guess that it’s Rebecca sobbing so loudly that it’s difficult to even hear Bo!
“He’s alive though?” I ask, straining to hear past the crying.
“Yes. The doctors caught it in time. He’s in surgery at this minute. The doctors said he needs a bypass; or…” She swallows. “I don’t even know what I signed for; they came to me and asked me to agree to the surgery. I just agreed when they told me it would make him better.”
Bo sounds as dazed as a child and I can tell that I’m not going to get much sense out of her soon.
“Bo, just hold the fort for a little while longer. Juliet and I are on our way to the airport now. We’ll fly out and be there as soon as we can. What hospital are you in?”
She tells me the name and I recognize it as being in the centre of London. “He’s in the best place, Bo and with the prices private clinics like that one charge, he’s in safe hands. We’ll be there soon, stay strong.”
I cut the call, not being able to bear hearing Rebecca’s sobs any longer.
Turning to Juliet, I grab her hands and chafe them a little. They’re cold and her face is withdrawn, her eyes focused inwards.
I press a kiss to her forehead, shocked to see her in such a stasis, when ten minutes ago she was filled to bursting with vitality. “I’ll take care of everything, honey. I promise.”
Kissing her temple again, I retreat and start the engine. It’s illegal, but I don’t care. I grab my mobile and hook it between my shoulder and ear after I dial Cass’ number.
“Cass,” I bark as soon as she connects.
“Joe? What’s wrong?”
“Rebecca just called; Bernard’s had a heart attack. He’s in hospital, in surgery.”
There was silence. A long silence. Impatience dogs my heels as I wait for her to reply. I’m about to bark at her again, when she says, as cool as a cucumber, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Frowning, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel to seek patience. “Are you going to come with us or not? We’re on our way to the airport. ”
“No. Someone needs to hold the fort here. Gianni Ali just called the office and told me that one of our staff has been taken into custody for abducting the company lawyer. Were you aware of that?”
The business talk comes as a surprise. Only a few moments ago Juliet and I were discussing the situation, fleshing it out and trying to understand what was going on. Now, it feels like a million minutes have passed.
Bernard’s importance isn’t solely with his family. The man’s been an advisor, mentor and second father to me. As much as I love my dad, I’ve learnt more from Bernard than I could in a lifetime with anyone else.
The idea of the strong man I know withering away and dying... it’s abhorrent to me. I can’t even think of it. I have to force the thought away.
Trying to ignore the sting in my eyes, I tell her, “Yes. I knew that. I was going to tell you when you came in from the office. Look, I don’t have time to talk about this now. I only have cash on me and not enough to pay for two flights. I need you to phone the airport and purchase two flights to Heathrow or to Gatwick. It’ll take an hour and half to get there, so one with a departure time as close to that as possible.”
“I’m not your secretary,” Cass replies coolly.
“No. You’re my colleague and for the last few months, you’ve done precious little work. I’ve covered your arse and saved you from any shit from head office all this time. I think you owe me a favour or two. Call the airport, book the flights and get over yourself. And before I go, stop pretending that you don’t give a shit. Because you do. ”
I cut the call and drop my mobile into my lap. Reaching next to me, I grab Juliet’s hand and entwine my fingers about hers. Twenty minutes later, my mobile buzzes. I relinquish my grip and flicker my eyes between the almost-dead motorway and the text.
Flight details.
I can’t deny I’m relieved; I thought she might have ignored my request.
It’s almost midnight by the time we made it to the hospital. London, as always cold and grim, and travelling through its dark and murky streets that late at night didn’t make it seem any friendlier.
Living with the mafia I might be, but life is a damned sight more pleasant in Bergamo.
By the time we reach the hospital and the corridor where Bernard’s being treated, Juliet has started to tremble. All throughout the flight, she’s been insensate. Dead to the world. I’ve tried to tell her that he’s okay. That he isn’t dead, but she doesn’t seem to have heard of me.
Only when we reach the waiting room that one of the nurses guides us to and when we see her sister and stepmother does the fragile shell explode. She bursts into tears; and I get the feeling those tears are filled with guilt. Guilt at the time she’s wasted on hating her father for what she thought he’d done to her mother and for what she thought he’d been doing to Rebecca.
Leaving the three women to grieve, I retreat from the waiting room and head towards the nurses’ desk that we’ve just left.
Even though this place is costly as hell, there’s still the stench of hospital to it. Disinfectant, illness, generated and recycled air. It makes me want to open a window and suck in the polluted air of a cold London night.
My shoes squeak on the tiled floor as I near the desk and even though the nurse seems very friendly, I lie to her. “I’m Juliet Rustin’s husband. I was wondering if you could give me an update on my father-in-law’s status?”
It’s surprising how pleasant that lie tastes on the tip of my tongue.
I pass the thought to the side for later analysis and study the nurse, wondering if she believed me or not.
Her sympathetic smile leaves me without a clue and then, she stands and retreats to a cabinet filled with files.
Pulling one out, she looks through it and says, “The surgeon had one of his aides contact the desk an hour ago. It’s taking longer than he’d previously calculated. There’s more damage there than originally believed. But your father-in-law seems to be holding his own. He’s in a stable condition. I’m afraid I don’t have any more information to give you at this time.”
Just hearing the words stable condition has my knees wobbling. At the same time, more damage has my gut churning. There’s good and bad news jumbled up in the nurses’ words, but I choose to accept only the positive and retreat to the Rustin womenfolk's sides and impart the information I’ve just received.
Rebecca immediately bursts into more tears, Bo looks wobbly on her feet and Juliet clings to me like a lost child clings to a recently-rediscovered parent
.
I know they’ve heard what they want to hear, that Bernard will survive, that he’ll live. That nothing can kill that indomitable spirit. They haven’t heard that his situation is worse than the surgeon previously estimated, but how can I judge them for that when I’ve done the same?
I hold fast to the belief that only the good die young.
And as much as I love Bernard, as much as he’s one of the most important men in my life, I can’t hide from the truth.
That old bastard has never been good.
Grinning into Juliet’s hair, I let the thought comfort me.
And in the wee hours of the morning, my belief reigns true.
Stitched up, cut in half, bits inserted into places I’d rather not know about, Bernard’s patched up. And while he isn’t as good as new, he’s alive.
And for me, Juliet, Bo and Rebecca, that’s all that counts.
Chapter Thirteen
The last two days have been a blur of canteen food, hospital corridors and waiting rooms. Bernard’s been shipped all over the hospital and been submitted to test after test after test. He tried to convince us all to go home, but none of us would have it. Although last night, I almost caved.
I’m used to sleepless nights and being up at the crack of dawn on two hours kip, but in Italy, as crazy as it is, as fast-paced and manic as it is with the bloody mafia biting at my heels, I’ve been sleeping like a baby. Lights out at eleven. Up without the alarm at seven-thirty.
When Juliet arrived, that changed somewhat and one part of me certainly appreciated her arrival. But ever since, my sleeping pattern has been off-kilter and none so much as here. I’m shattered. Absolutely bone weary.
Last night I tried to convince Juliet that we should go back to hers or my place and get some sleep. But she wouldn’t. The hospital laid on a private room for us; something that’s probably costing Bernard a small fortune but he can afford it. We’re all taking it in turns to sleep in there and to sit with Bernard, who isn’t looking at all well.
He’s in the right place, so if anything does go wrong, it can be caught in time. But seeing the Maverick I know with drips attached here and there, pipes and tubes coming out of places I don’t even want to know about and machines doing what his body should… it’s a distinct reminder that my mentor isn’t indestructible.
And I think that’s what is hitting Juliet hard too.
All these years of bitterness and upset, misery and distrust and what does it all boil down to? Not a lot, save a waste of precious, precious time.
Life has a tendency of throwing these situations at you and you just have to deal with them. I have a feeling that when Bernard gets out, and out he will be, they’ll be a lot closer and to be honest, I think this might be the best thing that ever happened to the pair of them. Even if it is in one of the most traumatic ways possible.
It’s a kick up the arse and who doesn’t need one of those every now and again?
My eyes are drifting in and out of focus as I stare at the wall beside Bernard’s bed. Only family are allowed in and I really shouldn’t be here, but in his few lucid moments, he requested to see me and I’ve been switching with the rest ever since.
I can feel my head edging forwards, my chin jerking about as my body fights my fatigue. Because of that, I almost jump out of my skin when I feel a papery-dry hand squeeze my own.
Bernard’s awake. And he looks old.
Really old.
I know he is; I’ve always known that. But it’s been in the back of my mind not at the forefront, because deep down, Bernard is one of those people who never really ages. He’s dynamic and magnetic and they act as a smoke screen. It’s hard to think that he’s in his seventies.
“Bernard!” His name is almost a yell, because the weak squeeze shocked me out of my half-in, half-out nap.
“No need to shout, lad.” A wry grin quirks up his upper lip and he grimaces, the hand retracting to finger the tube stuck into his nose. “I’m assuming I can’t request this crap be taken out of me?”
“No, you can’t!” I retort. “That stuff’s there to keep you alive.”
He shrugs. “If it’s my time, it’s my time.”
“Bullshit. You’re a fighter, Bernard. A couple of pills a day and you’ll be as right as rain.”
He stares at me, his vibrant blue eyes dimmed somewhat. Almost like the light in his soul has flickered out. You’d think he was on his deathbed from the way he was talking.
“We all have to die of something.”
“Don’t be morbid.”
That has him glaring at me; the flame flickering a little hotter at my refusal to accept his nonchalant acceptance of his illness.
“Where’s Cass?” he asks, rather than shoot me down for backchat.
Shit. He had to ask that, didn’t he?
“She’s still in Italy. Someone had to hold the fort,” I lie and I doubt it’s convincing. I’m punch drunk from not enough sleep and my wits still aren’t about me. Bernard is probably making more sense than I am.
A shaky sigh bursts from his mouth. “I didn’t know, Joe. I didn’t know that you’d be in any danger.”
Honesty forces me to say, “We haven’t really been in danger. No one’s threatened us. No one’s come after us.” Apart from Monica; but I leave her out of it. Bernard doesn’t have to know about the attempted kidnap. “She’s just going through some trauma of her own. She told Juliet some things about her past and this all just ties in.”
“She told Juliet about that paedophile bastard?” Bernard asks, obviously astonished at the idea that the pair of them are on speaking terms and to such a degree.
“Yes. She’ll come around.”
“I doubt it. Reports from the factory indicated that she hasn’t been pulling her weight around the place. You need to get back there and make sure everything’s in order; it won’t sort itself out.”
“Not while you’re still in here.”
“I’ll be fine. This time of my life, I need to start getting used to hospitals. Life doesn’t stop because I’m ill. I’ll need both of you more than ever to pick up the slack.
“But before that, you need to go home and get some rest. Send Juliet in here and I’ll tell her to go with you.” He stares at me, those eyes knowing and I’m relieved to notice a twinkle. “Things are going well on that front?”
Under the spotlight, for a minute, I feel almost bashful. I’m on the verge of blushing, when I grunt, “Yeah. We’re an item.”
“Good. Should have been for a while now. She’s been making cow eyes at you since she was sixteen and you’ve been the same; grousing and griping at her for far too long. You’ll do right by her, Joe.”
It wasn’t a request or a question. It was a command and even if thoughts of my own hadn’t been leading me in that direction, Bernard’s dictate would have done it.
“Of course.” My voice is brisk, matter-of-fact. Because that’s how this situation is. Juliet and I have been pissing around for far too long.
He nods, satisfied that I mean what I say. “Just because I’m all right with you and her, doesn’t mean to say I like the order in which you’ve done things. But I’ll forgive you. It’s post-millennium, not pre.”
“Thanks, boss. You’re really kind.” My sarcasm falls on deaf ears.
“I know I am. You’re a lucky bastard to be getting my little girl. Nature might not have gifted her with a pair, but she’s got some balls has Juliet. You’ll make a good partnership.”
“We do make a good pair.” I stand and stretch. My limbs creaking with fatigue and relief at moving the tired muscles around. “I have to say, Bernard. Juliet’s a good asset to the team. Don’t push her aside because your idea of what your daughter should do with her life doesn’t mesh well with hers.”
He studies me and smiles. “I think that just confirms, without having to say another word, how you feel for her.” He raises his hands and bridges them on his belly. His head is pivoted backwards by an inch or so and he murm
urs, “If I do that, what’s to stop me passing my seat down to her? Because you’re in line for the job, when I retire. But you know that already.”
“I do. And if that’s your choice, then that’s your choice. It’s your decision to make. I’m just telling you; she’s good. Insightful and smart. It would be a shame to waste her talent; either that or let some other company snap her up.”
Bernard nods, a pleased smile on his face and he releases the grip he had on his hands and shoos me away. “Bring Juliet in.”
“I should tell the nurses first that you’re awake.”
“Sneak her in then. I want to talk to her and then I’ll talk to them. This is important, Joe. Don’t fail me.”
Frowning at his insistence and even knowing that I should tell the nurses, it’s too ingrained to follow Bernard’s lead. I head to the room, where the women are probably napping and tiptoe over to Juliet.
The place is a pigsty. Sheets and pillows all over the place; the floor is a mass of take-away food cartons and some clothes they’d had a friend bring, are bursting out of a few suitcases they’ve plonked on the floor. All three women are sharing the same room, thankfully Juliet is on the couch so I don’t have to disturb Rebecca or Bo.
In her ear, I whisper, “Your father’s awake. He wants to talk to you.”
That has her shooting upwards like a vampire at sunset.
She’s as tired as I am and as soon as she jumps off the couch, she wobbles on her feet. I grab her and guide her out of the room.
“What have the nurses said?” she asks, almost slurring with her sleepiness.
“Nothing. He wanted to speak to you first. Then I can contact the nurses and tell them he’s awake.”
She sighs and her mouth pops open and shut; almost as though she wants to argue, but she knows her father. It’s do as he says not as he does!
“All right.”
“I’m going to wait outside. I’ve had my pep talk.” And depressing it was too, but I don’t tell her that.
