William knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, but still his heart raced at the terrifying news that King George would be exacting a different sort of punishment for their disloyalty. He was breaking with tradition; perhaps that was to be part of the mark he’d leave on England: brutality.
‘I do not see how any of us could be called traitors, General, when we also were under the instructions of our king. Our true King of Scotland.’
Wills smiled at him. ‘I applaud your courage, Maxwell — and your slippery Scottish rationale — but I doubt whether either will save your neck.’ He rested his gaze on William a moment longer with relish, and William felt a cold finger of fear trace a line down his spine.
‘You plan to hang lords of the realm?’ he said in astonishment.
‘Did I say “hang”? My apologies if I misled you, sir,’ Wills said, and blinked slowly, knowingly, raising his gaze to lock with that of William. ‘I will supervise the handing over of your weapons now, gentlemen … if you please. Shall we begin with you, my Lord Nithsdale?’
When all the pistols, swords and daggers had formed a pile on the table before Wills, he graced his prisoners with a fresh smile. ‘Thank you.’ He turned to his offsider. ‘A cup of ale, perhaps, to drown the rebels’ sorrows, Mr Cotesworth, then I’ll see them on their mounts with one of our foot soldiers to lead each horse. I will not permit them to ride proudly into our great capital. They will arrive booed by the crowds as the traitors they are, with ropes around their necks and hands pinioned behind their backs, sir.’ He glanced once more at the lords. ‘Enjoy the King’s ale, gentlemen.’
ELEVEN
London, December 1978
The stars are aligning, Jane thought to herself as the doors on the Boeing 747 closed and she could finally relax, knowing there would be no chatty fellow passenger seated next to her. The business-class cabin was only scarcely populated, so it promised to be a peaceful trip to Singapore.
The stewardess seemed to drop in on her thoughts. ‘Nice and quiet for the next fifteen hours,’ she said. ‘Though it will get busy out of Asia and into Australia,’ she added, placing a glass of apple juice down on a paper coaster. ‘My name’s Pearl. I’ll be looking after you for the flight, Miss Granger.’
Jane admired the straight, slippery dark bob of the smiling woman. She just knew Pearl’s hair would look as sharp and glossy in fifteen hours as it did now — unlike her own, which didn’t take kindly to perspiration or the static on aeroplane fabric. She was still wearing her dark glasses to hide her eyes, bruised and sore due to tears and lack of sleep. ‘Thank you, Pearl. I plan to sleep most of the way.’
The exquisitely made-up attendant, with her beautiful dark, even features — probably an Indian and Chinese mix in there, Jane thought — nodded and gave her a gentle smile. ‘Do you want us to wake you for meals?’
Jane shook her head. ‘I’ve taken half a sleeping pill.’
‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything to eat before you go to sleep, Miss Granger? Perhaps a snack as soon as we’re up?’
She found a smile. ‘I’ll be fine, thank you.’
Pearl tore a blanket free of its plastic bag and handed it to Jane with lovely hands that sported perfectly shiny plum nail polish that contrasted with her uniform. Jane hoped Pearl hadn’t noticed her ragged nails. She’d not attended to them in a fortnight.
‘I’ll be back with a toiletries kit if you want to kick your shoes off and put on some socks and a sleeping mask,’ the hostess said in a soft, breathy voice, her gleaming white smile warmly seductive. ‘We won’t be turning off the lights for a couple of hours.’
Pearl drifted away, sensing Jane’s need to be left alone, and at some stage over the following minutes of taxiing to the runway and her empty glass being cleared, Jane noticed that a small bag of goodies had quietly arrived, along with a menu … just in case.
She was already feeling drowsy, though, and looked forward to the release of enforced sleep and quiet time. Until that release happened, she busied herself with doing as Pearl had suggested: kicking off her shoes, positioning the pillow and getting comfy beneath the blanket. Soon she’d push back her business-class chair as far as she could, but for now she turned her head toward the glittering lights of Manchester Airport, blinking into the inkiness of the drizzly night. She had no intention of getting off at Changi Airport, even to stretch her legs. She’d stay on the plane and let them clean around her before the seven-hour flight into Sydney.
Jane had convinced herself that the sleeping tablet was necessary to make herself rest, as once she hit the Sydney tarmac there would be a swift connection to an Ansett Airlines domestic flight to Alice Springs. And from there, she’d already organised a rental car, anticipating that she’d have her second wind by then to make the three-hour drive down to Uluru.
Jane figured that Will would already be in America, sleeping quietly in the hospital in Maryland with his parents at his side, so she didn’t want to waste another second in keeping her promise and fulfilling this curious, almost manic desire to climb Will’s rock. To be on the ley line, to stand on one of the Earth’s most highly charged vortices according to the New Agers; to feel the magnetic power and hear the ancient voices of the elders over millennia according to the Australian Aboriginal people.
To tap into the spiritual power of the world and its magic, her consciousness thought, but she heard it in Robin’s voice. Blood is the golden thread that runs through life’s tapestry, she heard him say again in her mind. She’d not understood where he’d been going with that part of his conversation, but then her time with the clairvoyant had seemed unanchored, as though he knew things that he wanted her to discover for herself … about herself and about Will. That was how it felt, but whether she bought into it she was unsure. Perhaps she already had, or why else would she be travelling many thousands of miles to the other side of the world, on a whim … a fairytale-like belief that she could change the outcome of a life — or lives, as Robin had slyly suggested?
It certainly sounded crazy, but a new energy was powering her. Her parents, predictably, had baulked at her plan and Jane had Hollick to thank for somehow convincing them not to overreact or argue. She had promised that they would know exactly where she planned to be each day; they had codes and numbers for every move she was making, from flights to car rental to her motel beneath Ayers Rock. Her father had organised for a limousine to meet her at the international terminal in Sydney and drive her to the domestic one, which was clearly overkill, but she was not going to argue. She was under instructions to call them at the beginning and end of each day. To show them how reasonable she was about their concerns over this madcap idea, she agreed to all of their demands — or near enough. The offer she felt obliged to make to her sister to accompany her was politely refused, much to Jane’s relief. She and Juliette genuinely loved one another but were wildly different, and her sister’s look of disbelief when Jane announced her intentions would have been comical if she hadn’t also accused Jane of being selfish and childish … and Jane seemed to remember the words ridiculous and laughing stock being bandied around too.
She thought of Will, who’d spent Christmas Day in his silent world as doctors hovered, measuring vital signs and essentially preparing him to travel. She hoped that when, on Christmas Eve morning, she’d whispered to him her intention to depart on 27th December and where she was headed, he’d heard it somewhere deep in his consciousness and was even cheering for her.
‘When I return, you’re going to wake up and be Will again,’ she’d whispered.
She thought about her frigid Christmas, hastily spent in Wales and mostly in whispered tones. Had her mother cooked a turkey? She didn’t think so. Couldn’t remember, didn’t care. Ah, that’s right, she’d baked a ham … ‘Best not to waste it.’ Jane didn’t want to relive those two difficult days. She’d slept through most of Boxing Day and had not emerged downstairs to meet the visitors who’d come to pay their respects and share their sadness.
> Jane felt herself being shaken; she wanted to grumble at her mum for disturbing her, but Catelyn never called her ‘Miss Granger’. She pulled off the eye mask to find that Pearl was keen to collect her blanket and pillows, as they were making their approach into Singapore. Jane obliged. Fifteen or so hours of Will’s suspended life had slipped by as she’d slept.
After touchdown she yawned as eager fellow passengers packed up and disappeared. The crew smiled indulgently at her and now even Pearl was leaving; a new crew would take over from Singapore. Jane felt guilty that a cleaner in blue overalls, a vacuum pack on her back, had to work around her. She stood to stretch before taking time to neaten her hair and clothes and put on her shoes. She wanted to brush her teeth, but knew she’d have to wait until they were airborne again.
Jane watched as a couple of familiar faces returned, but before long the business cabin was near enough full of new ones, including a man in a suit who became her neighbour. She was grateful that he obviously didn’t want to engage in conversation, as he nodded hello and then ignored her, burying his head in a book. Perfect. She would do the same on this second leg.
The flight passed painlessly because of the adventures of a man called Jason Bourne, who had all sorts of problems after suffering from amnesia. It made her wonder, as she caught her first glimpse of the sparkling white city that Sydney showed itself to be, whether Will might have memory loss when he woke — she refused to add if he woke.
The sunlight winked off the gently moving water of the harbour and glittered on the mirror-like finishes of the city’s skyscrapers. She’d had no idea that Sydney would be this modern or sparkling; after the grime and weariness of London it looked positively surreal and fresh.
Glimmers of new hope fizzed through her, making her heart pound a bit harder as they hit the tarmac on a sizzling hot 28th December morning. She hated the fact that Will would be kicking off his New Year’s Day sleeping strapped to a bed. Maybe she could sign his name and her own in the book at the top of Ayers Rock before the New Year ticked over, and call on all the energies — spiritual, magnetic, astral, ancient — to help return her to the pathway she and Will had been on.
At the Institute in Queen’s Square, Ellen was still feeling the effects of Christmas festivities. Phew, she’d had a little bit more of the ‘merry’, as her family called it, than she’d planned. And coming in today, back on shift after a few days’ holiday, had been tougher than she had imagined it would be. But she was glad to see Will again. Poor man … such a handsome guy too, and lost in his prime. She smiled sadly at his slack, blank face before she glanced at his file.
‘Hi, Ellen,’ one of the other intensive care nurses called.
‘Oh, hi, Gail. How was yours?’
‘I worked.’ She shrugged. ‘It was okay. The kids spent it with their dad. It was his and the wicked stepmother’s turn. I’ll see them tomorrow and they’ll be with me after their New Year’s party.’
Ellen gave a sympathetic nod and squeezed her colleague’s hand. ‘So we’re together on the ward for New Year’s Eve, then?’
‘Afraid so.’ Gail laughed.
She got down to work. ‘No change here, I see.’ Ellen nodded at Will.
Gail shook her head. ‘Nothing. They’re taking him next week. He’s off to America.’
‘So soon?’ Ellen asked, surprised. Her friend nodded. ‘Wow, I’ve lost track of time.’
‘Sad. I mean, they’re going to put him and themselves through that traumatic journey and anyone can see he’s not coming out of this soon.’
Ellen frowned, leaning her head to one side. ‘These cases are always baffling … none of us knows for sure what might happen.’
‘The father is such an angry sod,’ Gail said, looking over her shoulder. ‘I’ll bet he beats his wife.’
Ellen gave her colleague a look of reproach. ‘I don’t have children, but I can’t imagine what it feels like to look at your child, injured, potentially dead, and feel so helpless. I can forgive his rage. He’s trying to do something, at least. Will could sit up next week and that angry father of his could shake a fist and say he was right all along.’
Gail nodded, then cut Ellen a wicked glance. ‘I’d keep him like this if he were my husband, though.’ She winked.
Ellen admonished her with a click of her tongue. ‘Bad girl. But he is gorgeous. How’s his fiancée doing?’
‘Gone!’ Gail nodded, mischief twinkling in her eyes. ‘His mother told me that — um, what’s her name?’
‘Jane,’ Ellen offered.
‘Jane, yes. Well, apparently Jane isn’t coping and has decided to take a journey to the other side of the world, to … oh, find herself or some other mystical thing.’ At Ellen’s surprise, she added, ‘I’m not lying. She’s gone.’
‘That’s not what I mean. I spoke to her on the morning of Christmas Eve and she was really strong, I thought. She did say she might be going away briefly, but I thought she meant to Wales — that’s where her family comes from.’
‘Well, apparently it’s Australia. Anyway, I’d better be off. He’s all yours tonight, you lucky thing! I get Mr Stephens while you get Mr Fabulous.’
Ellen returned to Will’s side, observing the prone man, the offer that his parents had made on Christmas Eve still burning in her mind.
‘Come with us to America. You know how to care for him, Ellen,’ Diane had bleated.
The angry father had shrugged. ‘Just help us get him to Baltimore. Then stay on, all expenses paid, for a holiday. Come back whenever you want.’
Ellen had thought of nothing else over the last few days. The idea of taking a break from the humdrum was more than tempting. She had thought she might talk it over with Jane and was surprised to hear she’d gone overseas. It sounded heartless of Jane, but in the few days Ellen had known her, Will’s fiancée hadn’t struck her as anything but heartbroken.
Well, it looked like she’d be making the decision alone. It wasn’t a hard one. She was due so much holiday leave that the hospital would probably make it easy for her to take a long vacation. She’d always wanted to visit cities like New York, Chicago, perhaps even Los Angeles and San Francisco — see where some of those TV shows she watched were made. And she would be paid for it! She sighed, suddenly excited. She’d say yes to the Americans when they came in later tonight.
Ellen focused back on Will. He’d lost weight, but his frame was still broad, muscles still defined, and his formerly burnished skin was yet to pale completely. She thought about her own boyfriend, Adam, with his paunchy belly and freckled body and those almost comically skinny legs. She didn’t really love him. Their thirteen-month relationship had long ago lost its romance and now just felt like habit. Comfortable, but boring. Would she hurt him by leaving, or let him off the hook? Both, probably.
‘I’ll take such good care of you,’ she murmured quietly as she sponged Will’s face. She liked to talk to her comatose patients. She reached for a comb, having paid attention to how Jane would straighten his damp hair and then tousle it again.
‘He doesn’t like it tidy,’ Jane had explained to her, barely holding back the tears.
‘There, just how you like it, Will,’ she said, admiring her effort. ‘It’s the coldest day of the year today. The weather has decided to have one last blast at us before the clock ticks over into 1979.’ She spoke in a bright but soft voice, just for him. ‘I reckon it will snow tonight, which is no good for me because I’m on the bus tomorrow morning. Mind you, the shivering may do me some good. I ate far too much over Christmas. Now, before we turn you over to prevent those sores, let’s just do the vitals again.’ She reached for his wrist. ‘Yes, I know you’re hooked up to clever equipment, but I like doing some of this stuff the traditional way. Besides, maybe you can feel it.’ She grinned at him. ‘Now shush, I’m counting!’ she joked at Will’s impassive expression.
Ellen was concentrating on the second hand of her watch, lightly feeling Will’s pulse tap against her fingertips, when out of t
he corner of her eye she saw his brow suddenly furrow, as though he were concentrating intensely. It happened so fast that she was sure she’d imagined it; his forehead had smoothed in a heartbeat. But she didn’t imagine it when his fist suddenly clenched and relaxed, because she felt it.
‘Will?’ she said, excited. ‘Will? Can you hear me? It’s Ellen, your number one fan! Come on, Will, show me you can hear me.’ She reached over him and pressed the call button on the wall.
Soon enough, others arrived. She was glad it was Dr Evans on duty. She had enormous respect for him, plus he too was easy on the eye and made the long night shifts more enjoyable.
‘Ellen?’
‘Will just moved and it was deliberate.’
‘Describe what occurred,’ Evans said, reaching for the printout from the machine that was keeping track of the electrical output from his patient’s brain.
She told him concisely.
He nodded. ‘Yes, I see it here.’
‘I was talking to him, but I don’t think he reacted to anything I said. When he frowned, it was as though he were concentrating on something distant.’ She shrugged. ‘Sorry. I can only tell you what I saw, how it struck me.’
‘No, it’s valuable,’ Evans assured her. ‘We don’t take enough notice of visuals sometimes. I think we rely too much on this sort of stuff,’ he said, flicking the printout. ‘Well, that’s very positive. Okay, I think we should get stuck into a bank of tests and see if we can provoke another reaction. He could be surfacing from the coma.’
She nodded, feeling a thrill of optimism for Will, but sensing her grasp on the trip to America slipping. ‘Do we say anything yet?’
Evans shook his head. ‘No, let’s not give his family false hope. If we can stimulate that response again, then maybe we’ll have something to go on.’
‘Come on, Will. Hold that thought, whatever it was,’ she whispered. ‘Whatever you felt, whoever you were thinking of just now, find it again. Make my New Year!’
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