The Braille Club (The Braille Club #1) (18 page)

She bent down, suddenly unable to stop herself; she kissed him. The feeling was fantastic as she felt him respond instantly. Their lips locked together for what seemed like an eternity, neither noticed the bells ringing nor the sensory equipment slowing. Gabriella ignored the vibrating key until reluctantly she pulled away from Max. She quickly set the chair upright before gently unbuckling the straps. The lights automatically dimmed.

“Max, I’m going to remove the blindfold. Please remain in the chair for a few minutes as your eyes adjust to the light.”

As she pulled the blindfold off she could feel the heat from his face, which was sweating. She unclipped the straps and lifted off The Lapel. She was standing behind Max and as yet he hadn’t spoken a word. The last thing was The Belt, and she moved around to face him. Max’s eyes were hooded.

“Gabriella,” his voice was hoarse and rasping.

He fingered the belt gingerly before handing it to her, his touch electric as their fingers brushed and their eyes locked.

She put it away and went back to where Max was still sitting, his head bowed. Her stomach was in knots, and she felt slightly dizzy. Why didn’t he say anything? She was sure he had experienced something, but the silence stretched out between them before he got shakily to his feet.

Chapter 33

THE BRAILLE CLUB

Braille Club, London, Present Day: Most Braille members choose the Braille locket as their preferred mode of concealment. Like the scent, a unisex design is supplied with their membership pack. These lockets, available in numerous designs to suit all tastes, are available to everyone. Members wear them like a designer label both inside and out of Harrison’s, snapping up expensive limited editions encrusted with crystals or pearls on their release date. It sparked a craze, women wearing several lockets at once on different chain lengths. Copies would soon spring up around London, making Harrison’s more desirable and sought after than ever…

Abbey

Abbey wrung her hands around and around as she stared at Steve lying motionless on the bed, surrounded by bleeping machinery, her emotions in turmoil as she fought to keep calm. Exhausted at having not slept in nearly twenty-four hours, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Steve had undergone emergency surgery after a haemorrhage on the brain. Abbey stared wide-eyed with horror as Doctor Lewis explained why they would need to do more tests. Steve’s condition was very serious, but they were doing everything possible. He even went on to say it was because of his level of physical fitness that he was alive at all. Still unconscious, this would give his brain a chance to recover. Abbey nodded, but she couldn’t take in what he was saying. He gently asked her if she wanted to contact their families.

Oh my God
, even the idea made Abbey recoil. She had hated Steve’s parents from the first time she met them, thinking them loud, money grabbing losers. They had gladly taken Steve’s offer of a life in Spain, complete with villa and a generous allowance, happy to spend their days boasting to their ex-pat cronies about their wonderful, talented son.

They hardly ever came home, but when they did, Liz constantly complained about the cold and Kenny about the exorbitant price of cigarettes. Abbey spent as little time as she could with them during their short stays. Steve always ended up paying for their hotel, although even he had stopped joining them for dinner, where they would both get drunk and end up causing a scene. Liz, of course, thought Steve was an angel, and Abbey couldn’t stand the way she fawned over him while Kenny stood outside most of the time, smoking. He cheerfully told her he was back up to forty a day now he lived in Spain. It was the ultimate smoker’s paradise.

She would have to call them; picturing Liz’s hysterical reaction made her want to be sick. Would she be crying for her son or crying about his future loss of income? Steve was an only child, Liz saying she couldn’t have any more and how she doted on her boy; Steve, however, said his gran was more of a mother to him than Liz. He had stayed with her a lot and had been heartbroken when she died, leaving Liz and Kenny no other choice but to care for Steve themselves. Football was the only thing that kept Steve going, he could have easily followed a path of drugs and alcohol. Most of his friends were doing it, but he wanted more. He’d wanted to make his gran proud, and he had.

Steve and Abbey had kept their wedding a secret, choosing to marry abroad with just two witnesses. Liz had been furious. Abbey knew she would have contacted the papers or
Ello
magazine, as she called it; she didn’t do discretion. Steve had agreed with Abbey, and their wedding had been magical. That seemed so long ago, and Abbey felt tears well up and spill over. She was a late baby for her parents. Her older brother Mark had made the Army his life. Abbey never understood the attraction, but Mark loved it. Her mum and dad were getting on now, both in their seventies. They were kind and quiet, and she protected them from the life she was involved in. It had crushed her when her dad had called, outraged at Steve’s behaviour, with her mum crying in the background. She thought she couldn’t get much lower. She had gone home into their arms and their unconditional love. Seeing her mum and dad so upset was terrible, and she vowed Steve would never hurt her or them again…but of course he had.

She told them the newspapers had sensationalized the story and she and Steve would work it out, but neither of them appeared convinced. She dithered now, loathe to upset her parents but needing their support and strength. Exhausted, she rested her head on the bed and closed her eyes. Starting awake disoriented some two hours later when a nurse came into the room, it took her several seconds to remember where she was before it hit her. It was like the affairs; she would wake in the morning without the knowledge until her memory came to life, and it was like an assault on her heart. The wounds that had healed overnight would be ripped open, with the media ever ready to rub the salt in. Abbey let out a huge sigh.

“You should go home and get some proper rest,” said the nurse.

Abbey looked up to see a girl about the same age as her with the kindest face Abbey had seen in a long time. Not fake sympathies like she was used to, but genuine concern.

“I can’t,” Abbey whispered.

The nurse took Abbey’s hand. “I know he’s very sick, but he’s stable, and you must be exhausted.”

Abbey shook her head, not trusting herself to speak as tears filled her eyes.

“Let me get you a cup of tea and some toast, you’ll feel better after that,” the nurse said kindly.

Abbey gave her a weak but grateful smile. “Thank you; I know how busy you are—”

Claire interrupted her. “It’s my pleasure, you’re as white as a sheet; give me a couple of minutes.”

She carefully charted Steve’s vitals before smiling again at Abbey and leaving the room. True to her word, some ten minutes later Abbey couldn’t believe how good a cup of tea and toast could taste. Claire was right, she did feel better, and her mind was clearer too. Thoughts of Liz and Kenny made her want to scream, but she knew she had to call them. She realized she didn’t have their number; that she’d have to get it from Steve’s mobile, wherever that was.

Her brain was so tired. What had she done with his clothes? She looked in the drawer beside the bed, but it was empty. She checked the cupboard below and found Steve’s clothes. As she rummaged in his jacket, to her relief, she found his mobile. Shit, it was completely flat, and of course she didn’t have a charger with her. She picked up her bag and started searching for her mobile, coming across Lucy’s card and shuddering. Without any hesitation, she ripped it up and put it in the bin.

She felt such a fool, drunk and needy; Lucy had been there, when of course it should have been Steve. In fact, where had he been? Why had he been so late? Abbey felt the old suspicions surface with a vengeance and it took all her control to push them aside and deal with the matter at hand. She retrieved her phone and was dismayed to find it too was almost flat. With shaking fingers, she began to text her agent Olivia, the only other person she could really trust.

Abbey: Olivia sorry to text but my phone is almost out of charge. I am at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. Steve has been admitted with a brain haemorrhage. I am in Neurology Ward 3A room 7. It happened last night; he is stable but poorly. Could I ask a favour? I need to contact his parents, but his iPhone is flat. Can you arrange for a charger to be sent to the ward? I will keep you updated, please tell no one. XXX

Despite the early hour, Olivia’s response was instantaneous.

Olivia: I am on my way. X

Olivia arrived in record time, and although not allowed into the room, Nurse Claire came and got Abbey, telling her to go down to the canteen with her. Abbey hesitated; she didn’t want to leave Steve.

“We know where you are if there is any change, which I’m sure there won’t be, I’m sure. Go ahead.” Again the reassuring smile. “You need a break, just for a bit.”

Abbey gave her another weak smile. “Okay.”

Olivia was waiting beside the nurse’s station. She embraced her, but her body was stiff and unyielding.

“Did you bring the charger?”

“Of course. Do you want it now?”

“Yes, be back in a minute.”

Abbey spun round and hurried back to Steve’s room, her heart thumping, holding her breath, convinced he would have noticed she was missing. As she rushed to his bedside, she could see immediately that nothing had changed. Relief and despair moved through her. Leaning over Steve, she gently kissed his forehead before plugging his mobile in and leaving it charging on the bedside cabinet. She walked slowly back towards Olivia, her thoughts jumbled and her body leaden. Olivia wrapped her arm around her and they walked out of the ward. She had asked the nurse where the canteen was located and had been given directions. It seemed to take forever for them to find it and even longer to get served and seated. Abbey looked even worse now that Olivia was sitting opposite her. She seemed almost broken as she slumped down exhausted on the plastic chair. Olivia squeezed her hand and sipped her revolting coffee, the bitter liquid making her wince.

“What happened, Abbey?” she asked softly.

Tears welled up in Abbey’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Steve met me last night, we were staying at Harrison’s. He was late…” Abbey couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice as the image of Lucy flashed through her mind once again. “I was getting worried.”
Another lie
, thought Abbey. “Anyway, when he did turn up he seemed okay at first, then when we got into the elevator he started to complain of a headache, and he could barely stand. God knows how I managed to get him into the room, but I did. Steve collapsed on the bed and then he was sick. I thought he’d had too much to drink or was unwell but when I couldn’t bring him round, I started to get frightened. I called an ambulance, and thankfully it arrived quickly. They admitted Steve to hospital, and I just had to wait. It’s his brain…they’re not sure…” Abbey’s voice cracked, and it was several minutes before she could continue. “They said he’d had a brain haemorrhage. That’s why he’s unconscious, but that’s good apparently, as it will give the brain time to recover but I’m so scared…”

Abbey had begun to shake as she relived the horror of the previous night’s events, her guilt and disgust weighing heavily on her conscience.

“Hey…hey.”

Olivia was out of her seat and wrapping her arms around Abbey’s tiny frame, holding her close as her body continued to shake and she sobbed uncontrollably, all composure gone. Olivia rocked her like a child until her sobs subsided.

“Better?” asked Olivia gently.

Abbey nodded, pressing the sodden tissue against her nose and eyes.

“Abbey, I can handle the media.”

“What? Do they know? Who told them?” Abbey’s voice had a tinge of hysteria now.

“Abbey, Abbey, listen to me,” said Olivia sternly. “You know how this works, I wish it was different, but this is the world you live in.”

“I’m not speaking to anyone, Olivia. I don’t care what you say; I won’t do it,” Abbey said angrily.

“Of course not, Abbey. No one expects you to, but the story will get out, you know it will, so it’s best it comes from us first.”

“Okay,” Abbey said dully. “Do what you need to do…and thanks, Olivia…thanks for everything.”

“Who have you called?” Olivia asked.

Abbey hesitated. “Well, no one yet.”

“Abbey you can’t do this on your own. Call Mark at least, he’ll take charge.”

“I will; my phone was flat as well, and I didn’t want to leave Steve…but I don’t want to tell my parents, not yet.”

“Okay, I understand, but you must tell Mark.” Olivia paused and the expression on her face changed, hardened.

“Have you called Liz and Kenny?”

Abbey stared straight at Olivia, her eyes pleading. “No, could you do it, Olivia? I’d be so grateful; I’m not sure I could deal with them right now.”

Olivia grimaced but then was all business; she too disliked Steve’s parents intensely and had, in fact, had quite a few run-ins with Liz regarding leaked stories.

“Okay, it’s probably better coming from me; I’ll handle it and anything else that comes up.”

Abbey looked at her watch, shocked to see she had been gone for over an hour. “I need to get back.” She stood up on shaky legs.

“Take these; they’ll help,” said Olivia, pushing a packet of capsules at Abbey. “No more than two a day. Let me know if you need anything.”

Abbey pushed them into her bag, once again grateful to Olivia; she thought of everything. They walked back to the nurse’s station where they said their goodbyes, Abbey promising to text Steve’s parents’ number as soon as she got it from his phone. Olivia hung back until she saw Abbey disappear into Steve’s room, then she approached the nurse’s station. She spent the next twenty minutes explaining to the nurses exactly what she wanted before handing out her card, and then she was gone.

Abbey checked on Steve before unplugging his mobile and swapping it for hers. She sat down in the chair beside him and put her head on the bed, feeling the warmth of her husband beneath the covers and wishing she could crawl in there with him. Her mind wandered; she read about celebrity tragedy all the time. The articles hadn’t seemed real. Somehow she doubted the stories, because it was easier to believe they were made up than face the reality that it could happen to anyone. She had read about footballers suffering heart attacks, TV personalities fighting cancer and actors with brain tumours. She had been shocked and deeply moved by their stories. They were susceptible to tragedy like everyone else, but she had never once thought it would happen to her. She tried to remember the brain tumour story, did it end well? Did they recover? She drifted off into a restless sleep, tormented by these stories. She came to when she felt a hand on her shoulder and groaned.