‘Well –’ Ned hesitated, then said, ‘There might be something Tom could do. When he’s an MP, that is. I haven’t got time to discuss it now, but another day perhaps. Where is Tom?’
‘Oh – downstairs in reception, I think,’ said Alice coolly, as if that was a perfectly normal place to wait while your child was having life-threatening surgery.
‘But he is still here?’
‘I imagine so.’
‘Alice –’ said Ned gently and then stopped, clearly thinking better of what he was about to say. ‘I’ll go and find him, tell him the good news.’
‘Oh, no, you’re far too busy . . . I’ll—’
‘No, I’d like to see him. I’m never too busy to speak to parents,’ said Ned. She hoped he wasn’t sending her a coded message that he didn’t believe she would tell Tom. He couldn’t think she was that wicked.
‘Look,’ said Tom, after they had seen Kit through a painful and nauseous awakening and he was in a more normal sleep, ‘why don’t I go home. Relieve poor Mrs Hartley of Charlie. Then you can stay here.’
‘Well, if you have the time that would be extremely kind,’ said Alice. She spoke as if he was a fairly distant acquaintance. ‘Thank you.’
‘Alice! They’re my children, for God’s sake.’
She didn’t answer.
‘Tom?’ Donald Herbert’s voice was at its most hectoring. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing at home, with only days to go to polling day?’
‘I’m sorry, Donald, but I can’t be anywhere else. Kit has just had life-threatening surgery and—’
‘Yes, yes. Where’s Alice, can’t she hold the fort?’
‘Not at the moment,’ said Tom firmly. ‘She’s at the hospital with Kit.’
‘Well, she can’t be there all the time?’
‘I’m afraid she is.’
‘How extraordinary. Well, if you don’t get back to Purbridge sharpish, you won’t have a cat in hell’s chance of getting in.’
‘Just hearing you talk like that makes me wonder if I want to,’ said Tom and put the phone down.
It rang again immediately. ‘What was that for?’
‘Oh, things you didn’t say. That you hoped Kit was going to be all right, what was wrong with him, that sort of thing.’
There was a silence; then Donald said, clearly reluctantly, ‘I’m sorry. How is he?’
‘As well as can be expected,’ said Tom. ‘He’s going to live if that’s what you mean. But he might not have done.’
‘What hospital is he in? I’ll send him a – a toy or something. And some flowers for Alice, she must be getting pretty fed up.’
‘Honestly,’ said Tom, not answering the question, ‘please don’t bother. It wouldn’t be worth it. I’ll go back to Purbridge next Tuesday, Donald, best I can do.’
‘Tuesday! For Christ’s sake, that’ll only give you forty-eight hours.’
‘Sorry. I can’t leave till then.’
Donald put the phone down, swore briefly; and then realised that this was possibly a situation they could make capital of: in the form of publicity, a sympathy vote. No one could resist a sick child, and if it was done skilfully, stressing how Tom was putting his child before his career, he’d come out of it looking like a hero. They might even do a picture of Tom with Kit in his hospital bed. Now that was a really good idea. He’d get in touch with his agent immediately and suggest it. Silly bugger should have thought of it anyway. It was possible the PR boys at Transport House would be interested too. Especially after Tom’s triumphant day with the cabinet minister.
If only, if only, Tom thought, he had someone to talk to. He felt weak, almost faint, physically as well as mentally, shocked at the drama of the day, the dreadfulness of Kit’s illness, at Alice’s casting aside his feelings and views as things of no import. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps if she had asked him, if they could have discussed it, properly and carefully, he might have agreed, albeit with huge misgivings, that she should take Kit to Ned. Of course, there had been no time for that, and he tried to think how frightened, how desperate she had been, but there had been nothing, not a glance in that direction, just a blind, careless lack of respect for his deeply held, lifelong beliefs, about justice, equality and the strong’s responsibility to care for the weak. They came, those beliefs, as close to a religion as anything he knew; they provided the standard he tried to live by, albeit rather unsuccessfully of late, the justification for much of what he did. It made him look very differently at Alice, at their relationship, at what he had assumed was her love for him.
But what was even worse was her revelation about Laura. He forgave her and Jillie the lie they had told him, designed as it was to save him pain – and what would have been the point of the truth? It had comforted him, that lie, helped him through the grief and the loneliness: there had been nothing, he was able to tell himself, that anyone could have done to save her. Not he, not the doctors, not the nurses and the midwives who had checked her and smiled and told her all was well every week at the hospital and sent her on her brave, confident way. Now it seemed something could have been done. Then, just as today, he had put his principles first, holding fast to his faith, and Kit might have died, as Laura and Hope had died, and all to be laid at his door.
It had been a dreadful cruelty that he had had to learn of it, and in the way that he had. He could tell from the expression on Jillie’s face that she was shocked. He had, to be sure, raised the matter in the first place today, and Alice could – perhaps would – have defended it on the grounds of strengthening her case. But she would not have let him have his way, would not have watched quietly as he took Kit to another doctor, to another hospital. She would have died herself before she had allowed that to happen. And so, there had been no need for that truth, that cruel, savage truth that left him helpless with pain and remorse, as if he had only lost them, his lovely wife and daughter, that very day. Grateful as he was for Kit’s life, long after he had put Charlie and Lucy to bed, he sat staring into the past, both near and distant, and weeping as if he could never stop.
Chapter 58
Diana picked up the phone.
‘Ned, darling, hello, can I come and see you?’
‘Well, it’s not the best night. I’m completely exhausted, had a dreadful day yesterday –’
‘What was so dreadful about it?’
‘Oh – two very complex operations. Anyway, I’ve promised myself an early night, leaving on the dot. I’m not operating, just ward rounds and admin. Then home and collapse.’
‘Oh, Ned, please. I’ve missed you. And I want to ask your advice about something. Something important.’
He hesitated, then, ‘All right, but just one drink, then you’ll have to go.’
‘What time do you finish?’
‘Five.’
‘Fine, I’ll come at six. I’ve got you a present anyway, from New York.’
‘How lovely. Yes, all right, six; and then you must leave at seven. I’m sorry.’