And that was the crux of it. This wasn’t her home. And neither was Australia. Home was where the heart was.
Home was with Alastair.
Fiji. Los Angeles. London. Paris.
The journey was interminable. Each step seemed to take for ever and sleep was impossible. By the time Alastair reached the hospital he was past the point of rational thinking. So much time had elapsed. What if…?
‘What if’ didn’t bear thinking of. At least Belle was with her, he thought again and again. If the worst came to the worst, his mother wouldn’t be completely alone.
But, thankfully, the worst hadn’t come to the worst.
‘She’s had a mild heart attack.’ The physician on duty saw the grey look of strain in his face, and answered his overriding terror straight away. ‘She’s still very much alive and she should be OK-’
‘Should?’ He went straight to the nub of the matter. ‘Why do you say
The physician gave him a smile that didn’t quite reassure him. ‘The attack itself didn’t cause long-term damage, but we’ve had to operate. One of her arteries has become too thin to allow safe passage of blood. The way it was, it was a miracle she hadn’t had an attack earlier. I’m sure she’s been suffering angina for some time. She wanted to wait until you arrived but we daren’t. In fact, she’s in Theatre right now.’
The physician’s voice gentled as she tried to ease his strain. ‘She’s having what’s called a coronary artery bypass, and there’s every reason to hope she’ll come through it with flying colours.’
‘But…’ Alastair’s eyes were searching the doctor’s face. ‘She mightn’t?’
‘Your mother is seventy. She’s been ill, and it’s a major operation. There’s always a chance that things won’t go well.’
‘She could die on the operating table?’
‘Yes,’ the doctor said frankly. ‘There is that chance. But there’s every reason to hope that she won’t.’
‘I wish I could have been here-before she went in.’
‘We couldn’t wait,’ the physician told him. ‘I’m sorry.’
Alastair put his hands up and raked his hair, then closed his eyes. ‘At least she had Belle.’ He opened his eyes again, forcing himself to practicalities. If his mother was in Theatre, there was nothing to do but find Belle. ‘Where’s she waiting?’
‘Belle?’
‘My…our friend.’ As the doctor looked confused, Alastair explained further. ‘Belle will be here somewhere. I rang her…’ he glanced at his watch ‘…twenty-four hours ago.’
‘As far as I know, there’s been no one with your mother.’
Silence.
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I’ve spent a lot of time with your mother,’ the physician told him. ‘I’ve been on duty in Coronary Care for the last twelve hours.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘We’ve had an epidemic of heart attacks and I’ve hardly had a break. I would have seen anyone with your mother.’
He couldn’t believe it. ‘Belle said she’d come.’
‘Maybe she’s been delayed,’ the doctor said gently. She, too, glanced at her watch. Her time with Alastair was over. ‘It may well be a couple of hours before your mother’s out of Theatre. Can I show you where you can wait, or would you prefer to find yourself a hotel, freshen up and come back when the surgery’s finished?’
‘I’ll wait,’ Alastair said grimly. ‘Of course I’ll wait.’
He waited for four hours. The surgery went on for ever, and Alastair paced the waiting room as if somehow expending energy could help. It didn’t.
‘There are complications.’ The physician popped in to find him before she finally went off duty. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s taking longer than expected.’
‘But-’
‘There’s still no need to panic,’ she reassured him. ‘Not yet. It’s just been a more extensive repair job than they thought.’
‘She’ll never make it,’ Alastair groaned, and the doctor looked at him and then pushed him gently into a chair.
‘Sit,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll ask the staff to bring you sandwiches and coffee.’ And then she paused. ‘Is there anyone you want us to contact? You mentioned a name before. Belle? Would you like her to be with you?’
‘No!’
And suddenly he was very sure of it.
And he was also sure who he really wanted to be by his side.
He wanted his Penny-Rose.
And he wanted her so badly it was as if his heart were as injured as his mother’s.
Belle arrived half an hour later, breezing into the waiting room with her arms full of flowers as if she were there to visit a mother with a newborn babe. She looked gorgeous. Chic and immaculate in a tiny black suit that must have cost a mint, not a hair out of place, her face immaculately made up…
Here was every reason he had wanted to marry her, Alastair thought grimly. She was indeed the perfect woman.
So why, as she gave a cry of pleasure, placed her flowers aside and rushed to put her arms around him, did he feel nothing? Nothing at all.
It was as if she were some sort of plastic doll-beautiful, but inside there was nothing.
She didn’t notice his reaction. ‘Oh, Alastair, what a frightful time you must have had. Poor darling.’ She kissed him lightly, then pulled away and made a little moue with her lips. ‘Darling, you haven’t shaved.’
He hadn’t. And he didn’t give a damn.
‘Has it taken twenty-four hours,’ he said carefully, ‘for you to decide what to wear when visiting hospital?’
She looked astounded. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Where the hell have you been?’ His pent-up anxiety exploded in fury. ‘I asked you to come. I needed someone to be here with her. What have you been doing?’
‘Darling, I knew you couldn’t be here until now.’
‘I asked you to see my mother. Not me.’
She still looked astonished, as if the idea of spending time with an old lady was preposterous. ‘I rang.’
‘You rang?’
‘Of course I rang.’ Belle was defensive and angry in return. She had never been one to take criticism lightly. ‘The nurse said she was as well as could be expected and due for surgery. There wasn’t any point in coming while she was busy having pre-op examinations and things. I would have just had to sit in the room and wait.’
‘Right.’ He was past anger now. He was cold and drained and very, very tired. ‘What a waste of time. Of course. So when she went to Theatre, she had no one with her at all.’
‘She had the staff.’
‘It’s not the same, Belle.’ He drew in an angry breath and he knew what he had to say. ‘She had no one with her who loved her. It’s important.’
‘I don’t…’
‘You don’t love my mother? Of course you don’t.’ He nodded, his weariness intensifying by the minute. ‘I should have thought of that.’
‘I’m fond of Marguerite,’ she chided him gently. ‘Alastair, you’re weary. You’re not thinking straight.’
‘Maybe I am.’ He shook his head, trying to clear the fog, but truth was surrounding him, fog or not. He lifted the flowers from the table and handed them back to her. ‘Love is…important. I hadn’t realised it. Until now. And we don’t have it, Belle.’
‘What-?’
‘We never have had it,’ he said grimly. ‘And I want it. I want it for my mother, for my children-and for me. And I won’t find it with you. So…’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Belle, but there it is. I organised my life like a business. But it’s not like that. Since Lissa died-’
