Chapter 45

Margaret rose from her chair and followed Miriam to the door and extended her hand, "I wish you all the best Miriam." Miriam ignored her gesture as she stood impatiently holding the door waving her hand towards the street.

Margaret walked out of the shop, head held high, ignoring Miriam's last incivility and ambled slowly toward her car, smirking with pleasure as she considered their encounter. She slid into the driver's seat, buckled her seat belt and peered into the mirror to check her make-up and push a loose hair strand back into place. "Well, Mrs Ellingham. You've still got it. The woman has no manners at all, but what can you expect from the lower classes." She shrugged her shoulders as she pulled the key out of her purse, "Doesn't matter. It's just as well that she wouldn't take you back; it would have been uncomfortable and awkward for both of you. Still, if she can get Louise to send you photos of the children, your trip up here will have been a success. All in all, that went much better than you could have hoped."

For the next week or so, life was good. Her days were busy filled with preparations for Christopher's homecoming. She arranged to have the villa cleaned from top to bottom; they had left in a hurry and it had gathered dust and other signs of neglect in the two months they had been away. Once he had the go ahead to come home, she would rearrange the villa's furniture, which would take some thought.

Certainly, the maid's room off the kitchen was small, as was the adjoining bathroom, but it would be adequate for a live-in nurse's quarters. The maid's room had been her "craft room" so to speak, where she stored decorations used for various holidays, and where she had a small desk where she worked on the paperwork for her numerous volunteer activities. She would move that desk along with the storage boxes into Christopher's study. She would miss having her own workspace, but he rarely used his study before his illness, it was unlikely he would use it now. They would need to move a bed and dresser into the maid's room; perhaps the bed from Chris' room upstairs would do.

The most difficult decision would be whether to move a hospital bed into Chris' room upstairs or to swap the furniture in his study with his bedroom furniture. Either alternative presented problems. At least both rooms had an en-suite bath for his use. If he continued to use the upstairs bedroom, they would need to hire a chair lift to negotiate between the two floors, and they would need some kind of intercom system to enable Chris to call for the aide whenever they were needed. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of leaving Chris upstairs. It would certainly be more comvenient for her work on her various committees to have her workspace on the main floor, especially when one or two other members met with her for planning purposes. And, Chris would feel more comfortable with his things as they were. Yes. Leaving Chris upstairs was the more desirable solution.

Her evenings were spent as before, at the club for drinks with her friends and then dinner with the small circle of couples with whom they had always dined. For the first night they were all sympathetic to her predicament, wanting news of Christopher and his progress, but as the week wore on, other topics took over their dinner conversation. Several of their acquaintances were struggling with health problems and one or two more had passed on whilst she was away. A few new couples had moved into the compound and had even joined them once or twice for dinner. How quickly things changed in such a short period of time. Occasionally it occurred to her that she would be the one moving on if Christopher should die or be unable to return to their home, but she suppressed those thoughts as soon as they surfaced. She didn't want to face that prospect; she wanted everything to stay the same as it had been, an idyllic life.

Margaret wasn't looking forward to Ruth's visit when she would have to face the reality of Christopher's changed circumstances and then his eventual passing, and all that would mean. Virginia Battles' husband had died just the week before they left for London, and already her villa was up for sale. Rumour had it that she was taking a small flat in the compound now that she no longer needed the larger accommodations. Both Martin and Ruth had indicated that she would need to do the same once Christopher had passed, that she would need the funds from the sale to make ends meet after he had gone. Margaret wondered if Virginia's husband had left her with insufficient capital upon his death as it appeared that Christopher would be doing when he left her. Perhaps she should contact Virginia and meet for lunch on the pretext of offering her condolences. She might be able to encourage Ginny to talk and find out if the rumours were true. What was her husband's name? She couldn't remember, but she would need to find out if she were to appear sincere in her offer of friendship. She wondered if she was still one of Miriam's clients; if so, news of her compassion towards Virginia might reach Miriam who might consider taking her back as a client, not that she really wanted to patronize Miriam's shop again, too uncomfortable. Margaret had found a new stylist for the moment, but she didn't have Miriam's skill, but Miriam might be willing to refer her to an equally skilled stylist if she felt more compassionate towards Margaret. Miriam might even put in a good word about Margaret with Louisa who might also see it as a sign of her compassionate nature. At any rate, there were all sorts of benefits she could reap as one of Virginia's friends.

She was just waking up one Friday morning when the phone rang. She pulled off the eye mask she always wore and looked around, still a little groggy from sleep. Two more rings finally pulled her from the fog of sleep and she leaned over to the bedside table to reach for her mobile, "Hello?"

"Mummy, this is Martin. Dad has had a bad fall and broken his hip. I thought you should know."

Suddenly she was wide awake and thinking that Martin still needed to learn some manners. One didn't just blurt out bad news over the phone. Didn't he know it was good manners to greet the other party and ask how they were? She was tempted to chide him, to remind him of his manners, but perhaps the nature of his call precluded such an admonishment. His news was disturbing. "How bad is it?"

"Not good. He's in hospital. He was found early this morning lying on the floor next to his bed, but we don't know how long he had been there. The orthopaedic surgeon plans to do a hip replacement early tomorrow morning."

"Why not today?"

"They need to run various pre-surgery blood tests, get some more scans, that sort of thing, and they want to stabilize him. At his age, surgery will be traumatic."

"But he will be all right, won't he?" Despite her true enjoyment at being back home and free to go and come without having to report to Christopher her activities, she was beginning to feel lonely without him around the house. If nothing else, his presence made them a couple, and she was learning how isolated a single woman could feel in a community made mostly of couples. She wasn't ready to lose him, at least not yet.

"Hard to say. With his history of stroke, it could be touch and go. If they are able to repair the joint and he doesn't suffer another stroke whilst in surgery, he should recover, although it is likely he will be confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life."

Now that she was fully awake, she shifted her legs out of the bed and sat up straight. "Should I return? Is there anything I can do?"

"There really isn't anything you can do at the moment." Martin paused, "It's up to you. If you prefer, you might as well stay there until we know more. I'll keep you apprised of his condition."

Martin was speaking to her in his professional voice as if she were just the wife of one of his patients. Why could he not show a little more care for her as his mother; surely, he must know that she was worried. "What do you think I should do?"

"It's not my decision. If he should take a turn for the worse, you might want to be here to make the appropriate decisions, but until then, there is really nothing you can do. He has been sedated so he won't be able to talk to you, and he will be sedated for a day or two after the surgery. You might want to come back then. Again, it's your decision."

Whilst he was talking, she rose and made her way to the window; it looked to be another glorious day in southern Portugal. She hated the thought of going back to the gloomy winter days in London, and she had moved out of her flat, thinking that she would spend no more than a day or two in London before moving them both back to Portugal. "Very well. Keep me updated on his condition. I'll stay here until you tell me I should come."

'Yes. Uh … do you have an e-mail address where I could send you reports?"

"No. I do have a computer so I could set up an account, or have a friend show me how to do that."

"Yes … Might be a good idea. Do that. Do you have a piece of paper handy? I'll give you my e-mail address and you can contact me there when you have it set up." He paused for a few moments whilst she searched for a paper and pencil and then gave her his e-mail address. "I'll talk with you later. Good-bye."

'Yes. Martin, when do you think you will have some news?" The phone went silent. "Martin?" Once again he had hung up on her. She shook her head as she put her mobile down, and took a deep breath. Communication with him was always so difficult. How ever did Louisa put up with him, she wondered. She would have to speak to him about his manners, or lack thereof, the next time they spoke.

Later that morning after she had dressed and taken her tea and a small piece of toast, she called Carly to tell her the latest on Christopher and to ask if Geoffrey would be able to help her set up an e-mail account.