‘Thanks to you, Mrs Williams.’ He raised his hand in farewell and she was glad he was busy, it made it easier to leave. She tipped the bellboy who held the door open for her and walked out of her building for the last time. She would never come back to this place.
Her driver was waiting with the car engine running and soft snowflakes drifted down from the sullen sky. ‘Lennox Hill Hospital,’ she instructed, keeping her gaze averted from her building. She was surprised at how calm she was. No doubt she would fall to pieces at some stage but for now Colette was relieved that she felt quite numb.
‘I’ll only be in here ten minutes, max,’ she said when the car pulled up outside the entrance to the hospital. Des was dressed, sitting in his chair by the window reading the Wall Street Journal when she knocked and walked into his room. He looked surprisingly well. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he appeared rested. He had made a good recovery from his bypass.
‘This is unexpected.’ He stood up to greet her, a watchful expression in his eyes. Not sure if her visit was an indication that full-blown hostilities were on the wane. ‘Let me take your coat.’
‘It’s just a flying visit, actually. I’m not staying.’ Colette felt an almighty and bewildering wave of sadness and it shocked her. She hadn’t expected it. Now that her departure was imminent, the reality that her marriage was over was like a cold shower. She had shared half her life with this man and now they were like polite acquaintances. When she left this hospital room she would be on her own. Was that what she wanted? Her emotions roiled like a raging sea. Stay or go? Stay or go? All the actions she had taken could be reversed. And then she remembered Mamie Winston’s fate: social oblivion. Failure!
‘Are you off to lunch somewhere? You look very glam,’ Des complimented her.
Colette took a deep breath. ‘No, Des. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to London, for good. I don’t want to be in the apartment when you get home tomorrow. Encarna will have the bed changed for you and a meal cooked. I hope you recover well.’
‘Don’t go,’ Des pleaded. ‘I need you. Please, Colette. I’ve made some terrible mistakes. But let’s at least talk about it. Don’t throw it all away.’ He gazed at her imploringly.
‘You have made some terrible mistakes,’ she agreed tiredly. ‘I won’t argue with that. But you threw it all away! And you might need me, but I don’t need you, Des. My divorce lawyers will be in touch.’ The devastating memory of her mind-numbing shock at seeing the loan application he’d already signed helped keep the steel in her heart. ‘Goodbye, Des,’ Colette said tonelessly and walked out the door.
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-N
INE
‘Let me carry that, Mr Williams.’ Davy took Des’s case from him and wheeled it across the lobby.
‘No need to come up, Davy. I can manage fine,’ Des told the concierge, slipping him a note.
He felt strange being back out in the world. Vulnerable, nervous even. He’d got used to the nurses coming in and out, doing their checks, settling him for the night. It was a comfort to know someone was there if his ticker went funny again. Tonight he would be on his own. His fleeting dance with his own mortality had dented his confidence. He was a mere mortal like everyone else, Des sighed. Anything could get him – the heart, cancer, brain tumour – he’d been getting a lot of headaches lately . . . The knock on his door had served to remind him that he was no different from anyone else, and he didn’t like it.
A wave of self-pity overtook him as the elevator rode silently upwards. The man he had been the last time he had stood in it was a far different man from the one standing here now. The sands had shifted. His circumstances had changed radically. His financial safety net tattered and torn. He let himself into the apartment and went to drop his keys in the bowl. Something wasn’t right about the place, he thought distractedly. The keys fell on the floor. Des did a double take. The bowl was gone, as was the console table, and the three large paintings that Colette had insisted they buy as an investment. ‘Another egg in another basket,’ she’d said when he’d moaned about the price of them.
Had they had a robbery? How could that happen? The thought flitted through his mind. Through the half-open door of the den he saw that more paintings had gone and there was an empty space where his desk used to be. Realization began to dawn. No wonder Colette had wanted to be gone before he came home. The little thief had stolen everything of value. He went further into the room and stared around. It felt alien to him. No longer a haven.
‘Welcome home, Mr Williams.’ Encarna stood at the door, eyes downcast.
‘Not much of a welcome, Encarna. I see a lot of bare walls and empty spaces,’ he said bleakly. ‘Were you here when this happened?’
‘No, sir. Mrs Williams gave me the morning off yesterday. When I came in at 2 p.m. she was gone and so was the furniture. She had left me a note to say she was getting a divorce and would not be back, and to make up your bed and prepare a meal for you today.’
‘What else is gone?’ He dropped his case
