Her Name Will Be Faith (20 page)

"Well, that was the idea," Big Mike said.
"What with the letters and
telegrams
I've been getting from Neal Robson complaining that this
doesn't work and that doesn't work and how can he
get hold of a plumber and an electrician… Christ, doesn't he realize he's
living on a Bahamian
out island? That's the whole point of the thing. If
he wants plumbers and electricians on call he should've stayed in
Connecticut."

"What Mike is trying to say
is that we have to try to sort things out
for the Robsons," Babs explained. "From what I
hear Meg has been in
a
permanent state of hysterics since the first night, when she found a
ground spider on her bed. If only
they'd had the sense to wait for us....
I guess you're right, and we should go… but you can't
cope on your
own
with the hospital to visit every day and Florence due for her vacation
as well. Listen, we'll take Tamsin, and then you and
Owen Michael can follow on down just as soon as he's well enough to travel.
You'll have a week, anyway. How about that?"

"I think that would be
splendid," Jo agreed; she didn't even want
Tamsin around right this minute. She just wanted to
sit and think ...
about the end of her
marriage.

"Heck, it'll work out just
fine," Big Mike said. "You stay up here
another ten days or so, and
Michael will be back from Bermuda. You
can
all come down together. Why didn't we think of that before?"

"We did," Jo told him,
and remembered that she had another phone
call
to make.

The buzzing phone finally reached down into Jo's deep
subconscious,
startling her into a violent
leap out of bed, to stand naked and disoriented,
momentarily unable to identify the disturbance, not knowing what time
of
what day ... Richard had been horrified to hear about Owen Michael, and readily
accepted that she would not be able to make it that evening. She had sent
Florence home, packed a bag for Tamsin, and then the little
girl had been driven out to Bognor by Big Mike and
Babs; she would spend
the night with them before leaving. Alone,
emotionally and physically
exhausted, Jo had
taken two Panadol and collapsed into bed, falling
asleep immediately.

And now… she registered the phone summons at the same
time as remembering Owen Michael's operation. Panic-stricken, she grabbed the
bedside handset… and gasped with relief at the sound of Belle's voice.
"Where are you? ... Still in
Nassau?   . Oh, you're going up today.
Yes, the folks should be down some time this afternoon. They have
Tamsin with them. How did… oh, of course, yes,
Babs. Yes. It was
bad… a burst
appendix… No, he hadn't come round when I left, but
the doctors seemed to think he was going to be
okay… I'm going in
this morning, and I'll call you when I get back… oh,
hell, of course I
can't. Listen, I'll call
the post office in Whaletown; they have a phone,
and they can get a message to you via Joss… No idea. He complained
of stomach pains and I took him along to the
clinic, but Knapp wasn't
there… some
idiot named Glenville. I think he's the senior partner ...
I agree,
nothing but preconceived ideas, and too damned lazy to make a proper
examination… You're damn right, I am going to have plenty to say to them in the
next few days… no, that depends on how long they
need to keep an eye on him before letting him out of hospital… Oh,
we'll
get there, don't worry about that… and give mine to Lawson, too. Thanks for
calling. 'Bye."

The bedside clock said 10.30;
she had slept for more than twelve hours
— and she had to be at the hospital in half an
hour. A quick shower and
a glass of juice revived her, and in cotton dress and toe thongs she
dashed
out to the elevator.

Owen Michael was awake. He managed a feeble smile
which made Jo
want to cry; he looked so ill,
lying propped against his pillows, black
circles round his eyes, while the intravenous dripped monotonously. She
kissed
and stroked his forehead, and whispered softly to him.

"Why did Dr Glenville say it
was exam nerves, Mom?" he asked in a
low
voice.

"Because he's lazy and
incompetent. Some boys and girls do get exam
nerves, so he thinks that's the cause of all tummy aches."

"Where's Tamsin?"

"She's gone down to Dolphin
Point with Granpa and Granma. Don't
worry,
we'll be joining them in a few days."

"When will Dad get here?" he asked,
hopefully.

Jo hesitated; this was the
question she had been dreading. The temp
tation
to lash out at Michael as she had done at Dr Glenville was
enormous. But it would be very wrong of her to
upset Owen Michael at
this moment.
"I don't think he will be able to make it, darling," she said.
"The… the start of the race was brought
forward, and he was already
at sea
when I tried to reach him. I'm still trying to raise him by radio,
but I don't know if I'll make it… and anyway, now
that you're on the
mend, you
wouldn't really want him to abandon the race, would you?" She hated
Michael even more for forcing her to lie to their son. But the
boy knew how ill he had been and would have been
heartbroken to learn
that his father
had still not rated him important enough to 'let the guys
down'.

"I guess not," Owen
Michael agreed, not entirely convinced. "Will we
really be able to get to Dolphin Point after all,
Mom?"

"Of course we will. Just as soon as the doctors
say so."

"I'm glad you stayed behind
with me, Mom." Owen Michael smiled,
and
dozed off.

Two days later Dr Matthey
pronounced that Owen Michael was definitely on the mend, and quicker than he
had anticipated. "I think you can take
him
home Friday, Mrs Donnelly," he said.

"That would be great. How about travelling after
that?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"I want to fly to Miami,
and then fly across to Eleuthera."

"You have a reason for doing this?"

"Sure. The rest of my family is down there
vacationing."

"Is that a fact. Well… I
would say a couple of weeks lying in the
Bahamian sun, or rather, the Bahamian shade, Mrs
Donnelly, is just
about
the best way of recuperating I could think of. Sure, go ahead and
take him down. But..." he
held up his finger. "Lying in the shade is
the operative word, right? No diving or
snorkeling. And no fishing either.
Nothing
which can put any kind of strain on that belly of his."

Jo nodded. "He'll lie in the
shade, Dr Matthey, believe me. And thank
you."

She was so relieved that once
she was back in the apartment she gave in
to the long suppressed need to have a good cry. Then she
wanted to do
things.
For two days she had seen no one, spent all her time at the hospital.
Now she telephoned her travel
agent and got seats on the following Mon
day's plane to Miami and thence on to Eleuthera by the
local airline. Next
she
called the post office in Whaletown, a long and tedious business as she
had to go through international
and then wait hours while, as she knew
from past experience, the one operator in the little
Eleutheran village either
chatted up her
boyfriend or painted her toenails.

"Dolphin Point," she
shouted. "Mr and Mrs Donnelly. You know Mr
and Mrs Donnelly."

"Ah guess ah do," the
girl said. "They was in here yesserday, lookin'
for messages."

"Well, I have a message for them," Jo said.

"But they ain' heah
today," the girl pointed out, patiently. "They don'
come in every day."

"I know that," Jo said,
with equal patience. "But Josh Albain lives
just round the corner from the post office. Will
you give him the message,
and he can take
it out to the house."

"Well, ah will, if ah sees him."

"You'll see him," Jo
said with determined optimism. "Will you ask
him to tell Mr Donnelly that all
is well, and that we will be down next
Monday."

"Next Monday," the girl said. "Who's
callin'?"

"Just say Jo."

"Jo? You a boy?"

"No," Jo said. "I'm a woman."

"I di'n' think you sounded like a boy," the
girl agreed.

"I'm Josephine Donnelly. You
must remember me. For God's sake
I've
been in your office often enough."

"Well, hi, Mis' Donnelly.
Why you di'n say so right off? Sure I goin'
give
Josh the message. Sure."

"Thank you," Jo said, and hung up. She felt
exhausted.

But she called Marcia. Marcia had
been in touch throughout the
weekend, asking if there was anything she could do to help; Jo hadn't
taken her up because she just wanted to be alone. But she
had to tell her the good news.

"Oh, sweetie, that is just marvelous,"
Marcia trilled. "I am so happy. Can I go visit the boy?"

"He'd love it."

"I'll do that. And listen,
you going to have a meal with Benny and
me?"

"That's very nice of you."

"How about tonight? We can have it here. We're
winning, slowly. We actually have one room finished."

"Ah… May I give it a day or two more, Marcia? I'm
very tired."

"Sure, sweetie, sure. You
just give me a call when you're in the mood."

Jo replaced the phone, and stood by the lounge window
looking down at the Manhattan traffic. The brief spurt of almost manic
happiness and energy had departed as suddenly as it had come. Now she felt
somehow disoriented from all the busy life down there; her whole body felt
limp.
She knew she was still exhausted by
fear and emotional trauma and by
her anger and bitter resentment at
Michael's attitude. He had telephoned
on
Saturday to ask how the surgery had gone, and had pointed out
that, as
all was well, she had been behaving hysterically. Then he had presumably gone
to sea with his boat; according to the newspapers the race had started on time
on Sunday. He was having the time of his life while his only son was fighting
the biggest battle of his life, so far.

What a swine! How could she have
married him? More important, how
could
she stay married to him? She slumped into the soft white cushions of the settee
and lay back – numbed. Jumbled thoughts flashed to mind,
then vanished. She could hear herself assuring
Babs and Big Mike that
she wouldn't consider divorce – but it
didn't seem possible not to.

To divorce, apart from the children, would mean
Richard. What about
Richard? They were
lovers, but he had never mentioned marriage. For
her to mention the word
divorce might send him running a mile. So that would prove him to be a cad. She
didn't want to have to take the risk of
finding
that out. In her present situation he was the only rock to which she could
cling. If he wasn't already off her – she had promised to call him as
soon as she felt up to it… and that had been Friday night. But
she still
didn't feel up to it.

She had hardly eaten for three
days. Now she opened a can of soup
and had an apple, which made her feel slightly better.
Then it was time
to
return to the hospital where Owen Michael was sitting up watching
TV, and, apart from his pallor, looking almost normal
again. She almost wanted to cry again with relief.

That evening she curled on Nana’s
beanbag, half watching whatever appeared on the screen, dozing off
periodically, relieved by Owen
Michael's
progress but increasingly disturbed by thoughts of the horrendous complications
involved in the breakdown of her marriage. It would be bad enough going through
a divorce if one didn't have children, but
what
the split would do to Owen Michael and Tamsin she dreaded to
think. And
for all that Babs and Big Mike had seemed very upset by
Michael going on with the race regardless of Owen Michael's illness,
she
still doubted if they'd ever forgive her if she broke her word.

The phone buzzed insistently,
above the noise of a big shoot-out on
TV.

It was Richard. "Mrs Donnelly?" he asked,
formally.