Chapter 32

Margaret was exhausted. Christopher's recovery, if it could be called that, was proceeding at a snail's pace. His speech had become progressively worse; he was slurring his words to the point that she could barely understand him, and when she failed to comply with one of his requests exactly, he flew into a rage. Despite Mr. Brendall's assurances that his condition would improve over time, she hadn't seen it in the three weeks since his surgery. When she happened to see Martin on the ward or in the hallways and tried to approach him, he simply said, "I speak with his consultant daily and he tells me that Dad is progressing as best as can be expected, and I drop in every other day to examine him myself. He will improve. I suggest you talk with one of our chaplains or the Social Work Team about ways to manage your concerns. Good day." And off he would go.

Now Christopher was scheduled to be moved to a rehabilitation facility in two days. She would have no reason to be in hospital and was less likely to see Martin on a regular basis. She was beginning to question the wisdom of bringing Christopher back to London to consult with Martin. Dr. Fonseca had assured them that Martin was the top in his field, but perhaps it would have been better to consult with someone else. Of course that is what happened when he pawned them off onto Mr. Brendall. Oh! How she wished that Christopher had agreed to reconcile with Martin before his medical crises. It would be so much easier if Martin were willing to sit down with her and explain why his recovery was proceeding at such a slow pace. It would help even more if he would take the time to relieve her of some of the burdens she faced every day caring for his father. She tried to be cordial, whenever she met him, asking after Louisa and the children, but he always replied with a curt "They're fine," and continued on his way.

It wasn't just Christopher's medical care with which she wanted, no needed, help. She needed help managing their affairs. There was the villa in Portugal; there were undoubtedly utility and insurance bills that needed to be paid. There was the flat she had taken here in London that she would ultimately have to pay for, not to mention the cost of her meals and other expenses. Christopher had always handled the big decisions in their life together, managing their finances, paying the bills, leaving her free to manage their social life. The division of responsibilities had always worked well for them, but now that he was ill, it was all up to her and she had no idea where to start or what to do. She needed help; she needed Martin to face up to his responsibilities and help her, and with that in mind, she decided to make a late day appointment for a consultation with him in his office, and insist that he help her.

She could tell he was surprised to see her sitting in his office when he entered. He was clutching his tablet on which he kept his patient notes, and she braced herself for what she knew would be a less than welcoming reception.

"What are you doing here?" He growled as he stepped over to his desk.

"Martin, I need your help."

"I've told you that the Social Work Team is there specifically to aid you in finding appropriate help."

"This isn't about your father."

"What is it then?"

She had her purse sitting on her lap and she gripped it as if it were a shield to protect her as she went into battle, for that was how it felt, facing the forbidding façade her son presented towards her. She sat up straight and stated her case directly, "Your father has always managed our affairs".

Martin raised his head, looking down at her, "Mmm."

She continued with slightly less assurance, "I am afraid that I never learned how, and now I don't know where to start. I'm sure we have bills due, and …. " She broke off, waving one of her hands in the air and looked up at him expectantly, not knowing whether to continue or not.

"Yes." He opened one of the drawers in his desk, shuffled some papers there, then looked back at her, folding his hands neatly on his desk, "And you want me to do what, exactly?"

She could tell that he wasn't going to make this easy for her. She had always been able to beguile any man whom she encountered to do exactly as she wished. Even Martin was compliant when he was young, always anxious to please her, but now, after years of estrangement, he seemed impervious to her charms. Martin sat there, his steely gaze boring through her till she had no other recourse. She would have to beg, "Martin, please. I don't know where else to turn. You are the only family I have left."

For what seemed like ages, he sat there, his expression frozen in that cold-hearted scowl with which he had first addressed her. How could the cold dispassionate unfeeling man sitting before her possibly be the same man Miriam described as tender and loving with his family. Of course, Christopher had been warm and caring once. She could stand the silence no longer and she begged him once more, "Martin?"

"Very well." He rose, picked up his tablet, and went to the door. "Let's go see if we can get any information from Dad."

She followed him through the halls to Christopher's room, where Martin was able to bully Christopher into giving him the name of his solicitor, his financial advisor, his banker and his insurance agent.

With that information in hand, they left Christopher's room and Martin led her to a small patient conference room where he addressed her formally, "I will contact these people and arrange for us to consult with each of them to put a plan into place for you to start managing your affairs. I assume Dad has assigned you with a power of attorney should he become disabled. Brendall can certainly certify to his incapacity."

"I … I don't know. Christopher always …"

"Humph! Yes, yes, he took care of everything. Did the man not realise how important it was to share this kind of information with you? Good God!"

She wasn't able to respond, and she looked away, sighing. Yes, she now realised that they had both been too cavalier about planning for this kind of event.

"We'll have to consult with the solicitor first. I'll have Miss Newcross call you when I have made an appointment."

He rose from the table and bade her Good Evening.

He opened the door and turned to go, but she grabbed at his sleeve, "Thank you Martin."

"Yes." She tried to give him a hug, but he shrugged her off and left her standing alone in the hall. She sighed in disappointment, but what did she expect? He had always been a disappointment to both of them. At least he remembered his filial responsibility when it mattered.

After spending a few more minutes with Christopher, who was in a dark mood after his encounter with Martin, she made her way back to her flat. By the time she left hospital, it was dark and she was hungry so she picked up some take-out for dinner, not looking forward to her night alone with her book. Perhaps there would be something entertaining on the television this evening; so much of the programming was supercilious drivel, but she could hope.

Learning to manage their affairs was going to take a lot of energy, but she needed some other diversions. She was lonely, a feeling she had never before experienced, as she had always surrounded herself with her friends, planning their frequent social events, working on their charity fundraisers. She needed a social life, desperately. She didn't relish the thought of spending the holidays alone in London or with Christopher in a rehabilitation facility. Most of her friends were in Portugal now or had retired and moved to other parts of the country to be with their families.

Since returning to London, she had talked several times with her three close friends in Portugal to let them know how Christopher was fairing and to get the latest gossip, but she hadn't confided in any of them just how stressful the entire ordeal had been so far. She should call Carly again. Didn't she come over to London to spend the Christmas holiday with her son and his family? At least she would have someone to lunch with and attend a play or two. That could be fun.

And she could confide in her about Martin's family, perhaps Carly could help her find a way to be a part of their lives. It wasn't that she wanted to spend a lot of time with them; she wasn't good with children and the thought of spending her weekends and holidays with three screaming children was more than she could bear. But perhaps she and Louisa could become friends, enjoy an occasional night out together at the theatre or an afternoon shopping for the children. A break from the demands of her children could be a pleasant diversion for Louisa as well as herself. And Louisa could be open to sending her pictures of the children to share with her friends. That was her ultimate goal because her grandchildren were definitely more attractive and would be more accomplished than those of her friends, she just knew it. Yes, Carly could help with that, help her become accepted by them. She looked at her watch. She and Geoffrey would be at dinner with their friends. She dialled her number anyway and left a message