“Dozing probably. It’s not likely that she’ll fall into the coma again. She’s now coming out of it.”
Stevie touched Chloe’s face, and slowly her daughter’s eyes opened. They were still her beautiful dark eyes, but they looked glazed and unfocused.
“Chloe, darling, it’s me, Mommy,” Stevie said, squeezing her hand, holding on to it very tightly.
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She loved this child so much, she wanted to weep with relief. But she took firm control of herself, said again, in a stronger tone, “It’s me, Chloe, Mommy.
I’m here for you. Everything’s going to be all right, darling. I’m going to look after you, help you to get better.”
Chloe’s dark eyes stared back at Stevie. They remained blank and unfocused, and then, quite suddenly, she blinked. She did this several times.
Mr. Longdon moved closer to the bed himself, scrutinizing his patient. Looking up, he nodded, and said to Stevie, “I’m fairly certain she knows it’s you, Mrs. Jardine. I believe she is coming back to her normal consciousness.”
Miles said, “Once she comes out of the coma, what’s the next step?”
“I told your mother a few days ago that your sister will have to go to another hospital for rehabilitation.
Once she is no longer in an altered state of consciousness, she can be taken to London by private ambulance. I would like her to go to Northwick Park Hospital in Harrow for several weeks. Maybe even five or six weeks. She will be given physiotherapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy, which will help her to get her strength back.”
“Are you saying that she might be paralyzed? Or perhaps have a problem with her speech? An imped-iment?” Miles asked.
“That is a possibility, Mr. Jardine. But let us look on the optimistic side, shall we?”
“C
AN YOU TAKE US ON A TRIP, GRAN?” ARNAUD
asked, his small, eager face upturned to hers. He leaned against her knee, his head on one side.
“Please, Gran.”
“Well, darling, that all depends on where you want to go,” Stevie answered, smiling at him, touching his cheek gently with one finger.
“To heaven. To see Mummy.”
Stevie’s chest tightened, and she reached out for the child’s hands, took them in hers. Softly, she explained, “I don’t think we can go this week, Arnaud, you see—”
“I want to see Mummy,” he wailed, cutting in.
“Daddy says she’s staying there.
Forever
.”
“Go to heaven. See Mummy,” Natalie said, and patted Stevie’s knee. She had been eating a chocolate biscuit and now the chocolate had been transferred from Natalie’s sticky fingers to Stevie’s pale blue skirt. Glancing down, Stevie stared at it 380 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
absently for a second, and then turned her attention to her small grandchildren.
“Let’s go see Mummy.” Arnaud gave Stevie an imploring look. “I want to hug her.”
“Me kiss Mummy,” Natalie whispered.
Stevie swallowed hard, blinking. “Mummy couldn’t see us if we went this week. She’s very busy.”
“What’s she doing in heaven?” Arnaud asked, his delicate blond brows drawing together in a frown.
“Making angels’ wings,” Stevie improvised, not knowing how to answer them.
“
Oh
.” He looked at her with his big, round eyes.
“Do angels fly, then, Gran?”
“Oh, yes, they do. They have lovely white wings and halos and they glide around the sky. I have a picture book of angels at home. Would you like it, darling?”
“Yes, please.”
“Me a book, Granma?”
“Yes, you can have one, too, Natalie.”
Natalie stared at her and suddenly the three-year-old’s eyes flooded with tears and she began to cry.
“I want Mummy. Get her back, Gran!” she exclaimed hotly.
“Yes, get her back,” Arnaud shouted, and his eyes welled. Tears ran down his cheeks.
Leaning forward, Stevie pulled them both to her, put her arms around them and held them close.
“Why did Mummy leave us?” Arnaud
Power of a Woman / 381
asked through his sobs. “Doesn’t Mummy like us now?”
“Oh, Arnaud, of course she does. And she loves you both very much, sweetheart,” Stevie said.
“Mummy didn’t want to go away and leave you.
But, you see, she got hurt and no one could make her better. God was very worried about her, so He decided she should come and live with Him. So that He could make her well again. But no matter what, Mummy’s always going to love you both. You’re her dearest children.”
“Will she always love Daddy?” Arnaud gasped, the tears rolling down his cheeks, spilling onto his lips unchecked.
Wiping his cheeks with her fingertips, Stevie said,
“Yes, Mummy will always love Daddy.” She stopped, unable to continue, so choked was she. Taking the small tea napkin the housekeeper had given her, she wiped his face and then Natalie’s.
Taking a deep breath, Stevie went on, “You must be brave and strong for Daddy. Mummy would want that, and she would want you to look after him.”
There was a slight noise. Stevie glanced toward the arched entranceway of the living room in Nigel’s Kensington flat. She saw her son standing there watching them, his face shattered, the pain in his eyes unbearable.
“Nigel!” Stevie exclaimed, trying to sound cheerful.
“There you are, darling.”
382 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
When they saw their father, the children pulled away from Stevie, ran across the floor to him, and flung themselves against his legs.
Nigel hunkered down next to them, put his arms around the two of them. “Hello, Pumpkins,” he said, forcing a smile onto his ravaged face. “I hope you’ve been good for Gran.”
“Yes. Gran says Mummy’s making angels’ wings in heaven, Daddy,” Arnaud confided. “Angels can fly, Daddy.”
“Oh, really, I never knew that,” Nigel murmured, trying to hold his emotions in check. He looked over their blond heads at Stevie, and she gave him a faint smile.
Straightening, Nigel walked into the living room, holding each child by the hand.
Stevie rose to greet him, and he kissed her on the cheek, glanced at her skirt, and said, “A little person’s ruined that.”
“It doesn’t matter. There are more important things in this world than a skirt. Do you want a cup of tea?” she asked as she sat down again.
“A nice cup of tea,” Natalie said, mimicking Melanie, the housekeeper.
“I’ll go and ask Mel to make me one. Is Agnes back from the dentist?”
“She returned about five minutes ago,” Stevie said.
He nodded and disappeared into the foyer, heading in the direction of the kitchen.
Agnes appeared a moment later. “Come on, Power of a Woman / 383
children, let’s go back to the nursery. Kiss Grandma good-bye.”
“Can we watch
The Lion King
?” Arnaud asked.
“And why not,” Agnes responded. She smiled across at Stevie. “Thanks for being here, for babysitting this afternoon, Mrs. Jardine.”
“Anytime, Agnes.”
Natalie ran and climbed onto Stevie’s knee and put her small plump arms around her neck. She gave her grandmother a large, noisy kiss and whispered in her ear, “Gran stay. No go to heaven.”
“Yes, Gran will stay with Natalie and Arnaud, darling. Don’t worry.”
The little girl scrambled off her knee; Arnaud came up to her, leaned against her knees, and kissed her cheek as Stevie bent forward. “Can I have a dog, Gran?”
“If it’s all right with Daddy, yes. I’ll get you a lovely little bichon frise puppy.”
“What’s that?”
“Like Lenore’s two little dogs, Chammi and Beaji.”
“Funny names. I’ll call my dog Angel,” he announced. “And Mummy will make it wings.”
Stevie smiled but her heart was aching. She didn’t answer her grandson. She couldn’t find the right words.
After they had gone off to the nursery with Agnes, Stevie got up and put another log on the fire. Although it was the middle of May, it was a damp afternoon. The big living room seemed awfully cold to her, and dismal.
384 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
A few minutes later Nigel came back into the living room, carrying a cup of tea. “Mel wants to know if you would like another one, Mother.”
“No thanks. I’m surprised I haven’t floated away, all the tea I’ve drunk these last few weeks.”
Stevie walked over to the sofa and seated herself on it. Staring at Nigel, she couldn’t help thinking how ill he looked. He had lost weight, his clothes hung on him loosely, and his face was gaunt, drawn.
His vivid blue eyes, always one of his best features, were pale today, and bloodshot. There was a cloak of sorrow and despair about him, and Stevie’s heart went out to her son. Tamara had been dead and buried for just over six weeks, and it was obvious to Stevie—and everyone else—that Nigel was falling apart.
“You don’t look at all well,” Stevie began slowly, groping her way, wondering how to skillfully bring the conversation around to what she really wanted to say.
“I feel much worse than I look, Mother.” He coughed behind his hand and turned away. When he suddenly brought his gaze to hers, he asked in a tight voice, “How did you manage to go on after my father died?”
“I don’t really know, Nigel. I found the strength somewhere. But it was so hard. Extremely difficult.
But I had you and the twins, my mother and Derek, and I just knew I had to find the will to continue Power of a Woman / 385
living somehow. When I look back now, I honestly don’t know how I did it, I really don’t. I operated strictly by rote, like an automaton, for a very long time. I just got through the days.”
Nigel nodded. “I know what you mean—” He paused and shook his head, his face crumpling up with emotion. “I loved her so much, Mam.” Finally, his voice broke, but he recovered himself and went on. “Tam was so special, there was just no one like her. She was so sweet, so humorous, and she was such a loving human being.”
“She
was
all these things, Nigel; everyone adored Tamara.”
“I heard what you were saying to the children when I came in. Thanks for that.”
“I didn’t know what to say…they’re so young.
And children can ask the most terrible questions.
It’s hard for them to understand.” Stevie let out a long sigh, wishing she knew of a way to help her son. But he could only help himself. That was the problem with grief; it was a heavy burden to carry, and also a lonely burden, in a sense. They were all grieving for Tam; obviously they would recover sooner than Nigel would. She must try to console him, give him what comfort she could.
Stevie spoke softly. “You know, Nigel, it does get a little easier as time goes by. I know that’s cold comfort right now, just words, and words don’t necessarily help when you’re longing for the loved one you’ve lost. They seem so empty.”
386 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
He stared at her, said nothing.
“I didn’t believe it either, Nigel. But it’s the truth.
And then there’s
work
. That helped me. Once your grandfather had agreed to let me work at Jardine’s, my whole life changed. For the better. I found it took my mind off my pain and my longing for your father.”
Without thinking twice, or weighing the odds, and speaking from the heart, Stevie went on. “And that’s exactly what you need, Nigel.
Work
. There’s not much to your life these days, hanging around the flat, seeing the odd friend for lunch. I think you’d better go back to Jardine’s tomorrow.”
Astonishment crossed his face, displacing the grief.
For a second he was not sure he had heard her correctly. He frowned, his brows knitting together in the same way his little son’s did. He was at a loss, hardly knew what to say. And so he said nothing.
It was Stevie who spoke again. “You need something to keep you occupied, busy. Work took my mind off my sorrow and the loss I felt. It will do the same for you. Do as I say. Go back to Jardine’s tomorrow, Nigel.”
“You’re giving me my old job back, Mother?” he asked, his voice echoing with disbelief and surprise.
“Yes, I am.”
“You would do that, after the way I behaved?”
“Of course I would, Nigel. I fired you for your Power of a Woman / 387
insubordination, not because you were incapable of doing your job. As a matter of fact, you’re wonderful at your job. Brilliant. And I’ve always said so. Anyway, the company’s yours actually. When I step down in a couple of years, which I now plan to do, you’ll be running Jardine’s on both sides of the Atlantic. I just want you to get a bit more experience under your belt before I retire.”
“I’m flabbergasted, I really am,” Nigel murmured, looking at her intently. “Very few people would do that, take me back into the business.”
“I’m not
people
, Nigel darling, I’m your mother.
You’re my eldest son, my firstborn child, and I love you very much. I’ve never stopped loving you, even when I thought you were working against me.”
“Some people would hold a grudge.”
“I hope I’m far too big a woman to do that.
Grudges are petty. They’re the tools of the weak and the small-minded in this world. But speaking of grudges, your Jardine grandmother had a grudge against me when she was alive. And lately I’ve been wondering if she implanted seeds of doubt and hatred of me in your head when you were much younger.”
Nigel sat back on the love seat and closed his eyes.
Finally, when he opened them, he said, “Grandmother Alfreda was…she was an old bitch, Mother. But I didn’t know it then, when I was a teenager. And yes, you’re right, she talked a lot about you…brainwashed me actually, now
388 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
that I look back. Her poisonous stories about you, her innuendos and her accusations were all meant to kill my love for you.”
“Accusations?” Stevie shook her head, looking puzzled for a moment.
“She said it was your fault that Dad died.”
Stevie was taken aback. This was the last thing she had expected. “
What next?
But that’s not true.
And
you
know better than that. Your father died of peritonitis. A bungled operation by an incompetent doctor. Of her choosing, I might add. If anyone was responsible for your father’s death, it was Alfreda, his own mother.”