The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter
Thirty-Three
We were all sat around Tori’s kitchen table, waiting for news, the tension unbearable. Colette was upstairs with Isla, trying to calm the child down. She had thrown up she had been crying so hard, begging everyone to just get her mummy for her.
Her crying continued unabated, audible throughout the house. Then I heard the words that twisted my heart with a painful jolt, because they meant so much to me, but were torn from Isla due to the most excruciating circumstance.
“I want Bastian. I want Bastian,” she wailed as she pounded down the stairs.
I pushed my chair back and threw my body forward, towards the hallway. My arms were already open as the red, blotchy face and sturdy body appeared. I scooped her up and strode into the sitting room, away from everyone else, making soothing noises that came to me instinctively.
“I’ve got you, darling. I’ve got you.” I sat on the sofa, rocking her gently, careful of the many scrapes and bruises on her body.
“He’s not my daddy, is he?” she whispered between jagged breaths. “That mean man who took Mummy isn’t my daddy!”
“No, darling, he isn’t. How could he be when I am?” I pressed kisses to the tangled mat of her hair, holding her close.
“Really, Bastian?” Her tiny voice sounded hopeful.
“Absolutely. I couldn’t think of a better thing in the world than being your father. When Mummy is home again,” I refused to contemplate otherwise. “We will talk to her about it, okay? I think maybe she would like me to be your daddy too.”
“I want Mummy.” She snuggled deeper into my arms, looking for what solace she could.
“I know you do, baby. So do I. We’ll get her back home. We will.” I closed my eyes, praying that I was telling the truth.
“Bastian.” I heard my name spoken quietly and looked up to see David stood at the door to the room.
“Yes?” David’s face was animated and worried all in one fell swoop, and my anxiety rose higher.
“The police rang. They have her.”
“Is she…” My heart felt like it was going to explode. I tried again. “Is she okay?” I knew I shouldn’t be asking this in Isla’s presence, but she seemed unaware of the conversation, have fallen into an exhausted slumber, her emotional ordeal taking its toll.
“There’s an ambulance on scene. They’re taking her to the hospital. She’s injured, but we don’t know how much.”
“We have to go to Banbury. That’s where the closest hospital is, isn’t it? We have to see her.” I kept my hold on Isla as I rose to my feet.
“They aren’t taking her to Banbury. They’re going to the JR. The trauma unit there is better equipped.” A cold wave of terror swept over my body. The JR was the John Radcliffe Hospital, the areas main accident and emergency centre. They had to be worried about Tori if they opted for the longer journey to Oxford. How badly was she hurt? Would she make it? So many questions and so much paralysing fear.
“Come on,” David recognised my fear, “I’ll drive. Let Colette have Isla.”
Isla’s arms tightened around my neck when I tried to pass her to her grandmother, but she was far enough gone in sleep that we managed the handover without disturbing her more. I kissed her forehead and said a silent prayer that she would see her mummy soon.
The drive to Oxford was interminable. David drove. Greg, her father, was in the front seat, and I was in the back with Peter. The women all opted to stay home and be with Isla. None of us talked, the tension levels in all of us were too off the scale for idle chit chat, and none of us wanted to discuss the unknowns of Tori’s injuries.
Parking was a bitch to find, and David eventually stalked a couple who exited A&E, returning to their car. We didn’t care what we looked like, four grown ass men sat in a car that creeped along at 2 miles an hour waiting for two people to leave. We got what we wanted. A parking spot and some rather telling glares.
Whatever.
Rushing inside, Greg approached reception and we were instructed to have a seat and wait. And wait we did. For three hours. All inquiries at the desk came to nothing. I lost ten years off my life as I paced that forlorn space.
Eventually, when all of us were a snarling pack of stressed out Neanderthals, a doctor approached us.
“Am I to understand that some of you are family to Tori Belmane?” she asked.
Before any of us could speak, Greg replied, “We are all family. She’s my daughter.” He indicated towards Peter and David. “Those are her brothers.” And then he nodded towards me, lying without a flicker of indication that it was bollocks. “And that’s her fiancé. Now, can we see her, please.”
“She’s recovering from surgery. I’m sorry that it took so long to come speak to you all. Tori had some complications in theatre, and everything took longer than expected.”
“Just tell me she’s going to be okay, please,” I begged, unable to take the pressure bearing down on my heart.
The middle aged woman smiled at me and said, “Tori should make a full recovery. She has suffered a fractured wrist which we have had to pin in several places. But while in surgery we discovered she had internal bleeding and had to operate to staunch that. She also has severely bruised ribs, but none are broken. Some lacerations to her face and, of course, the normal bruising and scraped that comes for a road accident. She’s doing fine now and will be leaving recovery for the surgical ward shortly. If you follow the signs to the ward, a nurse will allow you in to see her one at a time for five minutes each. But she needs to rest and is heavily sedated so do not expect her to respond much, even if she is awake when you see her.”
My sense of relief and outrage was overwhelming, and I sank into a nearby chair. My beautiful girl was hurt, but she was going to be okay. I needed to focus on that, the fact that she would be okay. That’s all that mattered. We could overcome anything else.
“Can I ask about Robert Alder?” David spoke up. “He’s my father and was in the same vehicle as Miss Belmane.”
“Ah, I’d have to speak to my colleagues further, but it is my understanding your father’s injuries are more extensive than Miss Belmane’s. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise that you had a connection to him too.” She looked rightfully confused, as Greg had introduced David as Tori’s brother.
“Tori was my sister-in-law,” he clarified.
Her brow drew together, obviously a bit confused by our convoluted connections, but then she instructed David to go to the Intensive Care Unit and they would be able to give him a further update on his father. He thanked her for that information, then turned to us.
“Tori first. Please allow me to see her before I find out what has happened with my father. I know I have removed myself from his life these past few years, but I feel I still have a sense of responsibility for him despite this. I’m all he has.” Conflict warred in his face, and I felt for the man. It couldn’t be easy having a parent that perpetuated the crimes that Robert had.
Greg put his arm around David’s shoulders and gave the man a comforting squeeze. “No judgement here, David. Let’s go see my daughter and then you can find out what has happened with Robert.”
I went in to see Tori last. I parted the curtains to see her slim body looking so fragile, hooked up to monitors and drips, her face ashen despite the many cuts and bruises that adorned it.
“Oh baby, what has he done to you?” I sank to the chair by her bedside and gently clasped her hand in mine, careful of the canula on the back.
Her head turned in my direction and her swollen eyes, already turning vivid shades of black and blue, turned to me. She gave me a wonky smile, her lip cut on one side and puffed up.
“Hey,” Tori rasped to me. Her eyes were glazed and heavy from her sedation.
I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple, careful to avoid any of the cuts and bruises. “Hey, to you too. God, I love you, woman. Don’t ever do something like that to me again. My heart can’t take it.” My voice was gruff with emotion, and I blinked back the tears that threatened.
“Isla?” she whispered in reply.
I closed my eyes briefly, having to take a fortifying breath to stay calm while I viewed her injuries. She was going to be okay, I repeated to myself over and over. “Isla is with your mum, and she is fine. She just misses you. That’s all.”
“I’ll be home soon,” she told me.
“That you will, baby. That you will.” And I watched as her eyes slowly closed again and she slipped back into a drug induced sleep. The machines attached to her beeped reassuredly and the sounds of the hospital surrounded me as I watched the woman I loved start her journey to recovery. She hadn’t woken when the others had come in to see her and I felt blessed to have had her speak to me.
I wanted to sit by her side all night, but the nurses informed me that wasn’t a choice I could make. After my allotted five minutes I was ushered out to rejoin Greg and Peter. David had gone to inquire about Robert and told them he would take an Uber back to London and figure out what to do about his car after he had some rest.
“Let’s go home,” Greg said, patting me on the shoulder. “We can’t do anything else here.”
“I can,” I told him. “I need to find out who I have to talk to so that I can organise a private room for Tori. I asked the nurse and she said that they would keep her on the ward for observation tonight but that she could be moved in the morning. I’m going to make sure she gets the best room they have.”
“It’s the NHS, Bastian. I’m not sure that it works that way here. Private hospitals yes, but the JR?” Peter looked doubtful.
“No, the nurse said that if there is one available, I could book it. So if they have one, Tori is getting it.” It was the only thing I could do to help her right then, so by god I was going to do it.