‘Did that other little trouble clear up? Anything I can do there?’
‘That’s under control.’
He nodded and went away. I heard his heavy steps pounding on the stairs. He moved like a man in a hurry.
I lit a cigarette, but after two puffs I stubbed it out.
In eight days’ time I had to pay Rima another ten thousand. Thirty days after that, I would have to pay her thirty thousand. I was sure she wouldn’t stop there. She would go on and on and on, bleeding me white. With the doctors’ and hospital bills ahead of me, I didn’t dare part with any more money and yet I didn’t dare not pay her. She was crazy enough to set the police on me, and I’d find myself in a cell when Sarita needed me most.
I paced to and fro, wondering what to do. I couldn’t go to Santa Barba now Sarita was so dangerously ill, but I had to do something.
Finally, I decided to ask Rima for time to pay.
I wrote to her. I explained about Sarita’s accident. I said until I knew what my expenses were, I couldn’t pay out any more money to her, but later I would give her something.
I don’t know why. I imagined she would be merciful. Maybe I was so upset and scared, I wasn’t in my right mind. If I had thought for a moment and remembered who I was writing to, I wouldn’t have sent the letter, but I wasn’t in the state for clear thinking.
I got the janitor to send the letter by fast night rate. She would get it the day after tomorrow if the Los Angeles bank forwarded it right away.
Around eight o’clock the hospital called and said Dr. Goodyear had arrived and would I come over right away?
Dr. Goodyear was a short, fat man with a bald head and a curt manner.
He said he intended to operate right away.
‘I don’t want you to be under any illusion, Mr. Halliday,’ he said. ‘Your wife is in a dangerous state.
The operation is a difficult one. Frankly, the odds are against her, but I will do my best. I think you should stay here.’
The next three hours were the longest and most horrible I have ever lived through. Around ten o’clock Jack came into the waiting-room and sat with me. We didn’t say anything to each other. A little later Mayor Mathison and his wife came in. Mrs. Mathison touched my shoulder as she passed me, and they sat down to share the wait with me.
At twelve thirty-five, a nurse came to the door and beckoned to me.
No one said anything, but as I got to my feet and crossed the room I knew they were praying for Sarita.
In the corridor I saw Clara sitting on an upright chair, a handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Leaning against the wall, looking embarrassed, was the foreman and four of the guys who ran the bulldozers.
They had come along to share my wait, and I could see how anxious they were.
I followed the nurse to Dr. Weinberg’s office.
Dr. Goodyear, looking old and tired, was smoking, resting his fat hams on the edge of the desk, Dr.
Weinborg stood by the window.
‘Well, Mr. Halliday,’ Goodyear said, ‘the operation has been successful. Now, of course, it depends on how she rides the after effects. I think I can say she is going to live.’
But there was something in the tone of his voice and in the atmosphere that warned me that this was no time for rejoicing.
‘Well, go on… what else?’
My voice sounded thick and harsh.
‘The injuries to the brain are extensive,’ Goodyear said quietly. ‘Although I believe she will live, I regret to tell you she will always be an invalid.’ He paused, frowning, looking away from me. ‘I’m sure you would want the exact truth. At best she will have to live in a wheel chair. I suspect her speech may be impaired, and there seems a possibility that her memory will also be affected.’ He looked up then and I saw his eyes were defeated and sad. ‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say to you that can give you any comfort, but at least, I am fairly confident she will live.’
I stood staring at him.
‘You call that success?’ I said. ‘She won’t walk again. She’ll have difficulty in talking and she won’t remember me? You call that success?’
‘It was a miracle that Dr. Goodyear saved her life,’ Dr. Weinborg said, turning from the window.
‘Her life? What kind of life? Wouldn’t she be better dead?’
I went out of the room and walked fast down the corridor.
Jack was standing in the doorway of the waiting-room. He caught hold of my arm, but I pulled free and kept on.
I walked out of the hospital into the dark night and kept walking.
I had some stupid idea that if I went on and on, I could walk away from this nightmare, out of the darkness, and into the light, and then come home and find Sarita there as she had always been there since our marriage, waiting for me.
Just a stupid idea.
II
During the next three days I lived in a vacuum. I remained at home, waiting for the telephone bell to ring.
Sarita hovered between unconscious life and death.
I was alone, not wanting anyone, scarcely bothering to eat, but smoking continuously, while I sat in an armchair and waited.
From time to time Jack looked in, but he only stayed a few minutes, realising I wanted to be alone.
No one telephoned, knowing that I waited for a call from the hospital and that a ring would be a knife stab if it wasn’t the hospital.
Around nine o’clock on the third night of waiting the telephone did ring.
I crossed the room and snatched up the receiver.
‘Yes? Halliday here.’
‘I want to talk to you.’
It was Rima: there was no mistaking her voice. I felt my heart give a lurch, then it began to beat violently.
‘Where are you?’
‘In the bar of the Aster Hotel. I’m waiting. How soon can you come over?’
‘Right away,’ I said, and hung up. I called the hospital and told the receptionist that I would be in the bar of the Aster Hotel, and if she had any news for me she would find me there.
It was raining.
I put on my raincoat, turned off the lights and went down to the street. I picked up a taxi and was driven across town to the Aster.
During the drive, a cold feeling of fear built up inside me. I was sure Rima wouldn’t have come all this way to see me unless she had something in mind, and that something would be of profit to her.
The Aster Hotel was the best hotel in Holland City. Already she was changing her way of life. She was making use of my money. I felt sure she had come to extract her pound of flesh.
I wouldn’t dare move beyond the reach of a telephone. She could dictate her terms and leave, and I couldn’t attempt to follow her: couldn’t track her down to some safe place where I could silence her.
Any moment I might get a call, telling me to come at once to the hospital. I was in a trap, and no doubt she guessed it, otherwise she wouldn’t have taken the risk of meeting me.
