To Be the Best

  ***

  After breakfast the following morning, Philip went back upstairs to say goodbye to Maddy.

  But she was still fast asleep in the great four-poster bed, her chestnut hair tumbled across the pillow. In repose her face was tranquil, relaxed, devoid of the quickness and mobility that gave it such vivacity when she was awake.

  How beautiful my wife is, he thought, bending over her, kissing her lightly on the cheek. He did not have the heart to awaken her. She had been almost speechless with fatigue the night before and she needed her rest this morning. He moved a strand of hair away from her face, kissed her again, crept out of the bedroom quietly.

  Ken was waiting in the driveway with the Rolls when Philip walked out of the house just before seven o’clock, and within seconds they were en route for Sydney. Philip opened his briefcase, went over the most urgent documents he had collected from his desk last night, preparing himself for the day’s business as he usually did during the half hour drive into the city. He made a number of quick notations on his pad; studied a detailed memorandum from Tom Patterson, head of their mining division and one of the world’s great opal experts; perused other communications from various executives who worked for the McGill Corporation, eventually returned all the documents to his case. He sat back, mulling over everything he had read for the remainder of the drive.

  When he strode into the executive offices of the McGill Corporation atop the McGill Tower it was exactly seven-thirty. His personal assistant, Barry Graves, and his secretary, Maggie Bolton, were both waiting for him. After greeting each other affably, the three of them went into Philip’s inner sanctum for their usual early morning confab.

  Lowering himself into the chair behind his desk, Philip said, ‘The most important meeting on our agenda today is going to be the one with Tom Patterson. Presumably he got in all right from Lightning Ridge last night?’

  ‘He did,’ Barry said. ‘He phoned about ten minutes ago and I confirmed that we were expecting him around eleven-thirty this morning, and that lunch would be with you in your private dining room here.’

  ‘Good-o!’ Philip said. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing my old cobber, talking to him. It’s been months since Tom’s been to Sydney. He had a lot of pertinent things to say in his memo. I went over it again in the car on the way in, and I want him to elaborate on a number of points he’s raised. But better not to go into that right now.’ Philip glanced over at Maggie, sitting at the other side of the desk, her pad in her hand, her pencil poised.

  ‘Anything special in the post today?’ he asked, dropping his eyes to the pile of papers in front of him, then looking at her again.

  ‘Nothing of any great consequence, mostly personal letters, a few invitations, charity requests, the usual daily stuff. Oh, and a cheery note from Steve Carlson. He’s still in Coober Pedy. And doing quite well,’ Maggie finished with a small grin.

  Philip couldn’t help grinning with her. ‘So much for my assessment of him! The jackeroo seems to have turned out to be quite smart.’

  The three of them exchanged knowing glances, chuckling, remembering the young American they had characterized as a greenhorn, when he had come seeking Philip’s advice about opal mining a year ago.

  Barry said, with a touch of acerbity, ‘Beginner’s luck, that’s all it is. You mark my words, he’ll come a cropper yet.’ He opened one of the folders he was holding, went on briskly, ‘I now have all the information you require on the newspaper chain in Queensland. The boss man over there seems to be interested in selling. I’ve prepared a fact sheet, Philip, with all the salient details. Also, Gregory Cordovian phoned just a few minutes after you left the office last night. He wants to set up a meeting with you.’

  ‘Does he now!’ Philip exclaimed, surprise echoing in his voice. He eyed Barry quizzically. ‘Could it be that he finally wants to call a truce?’

  ‘Hard to say. He’s a cagey sod, that one is. But I kinda got the feeling he was receptive to having a friendly little natter with you. More so than he’s ever been in the past. Could be that he even wants to sell the television stations in Victoria. And listen Philip, he called us, didn’t he? I take that as a good sign.’

  ‘It is. And you may well be right—about the television stations.’

  Barry nodded, tapped the other folder he was holding. ‘Reports here about our natural energy companies, our Sydney real estate, and our other mining interests. You’ll have to go over most of them before next Thursday week, when we have that series of meetings with the executives of these companies.’

  ‘I will. Leave the folders with me, Barry. Anything else from you, Maggie?’

  His secretary flipped back to a previous page on her pad. ‘Ian MacDonald called late yesterday afternoon. He has a full suit of sails for you, including the spinnaker and the Kevlar for the storm mainsail. He wants to know when you can get out to see him? Wonders if you’d like to lunch with him at the yard?’

  ‘Tomorrow or Friday… I am free, aren’t I?’

  ‘Tomorrow you are, yes. But not on Friday. You have a meeting with your mother and the board of trustees of the Daisy McGill Amory Foundation. A working lunch here at the Tower in the private dining room.’

  ‘Oh that’s right, I’d totally forgotten.’ Philip pondered a moment. ‘Perhaps you’d better make a date with Ian for next week sometime. That’ll be more convenient.’

  ‘All right.’ Maggie stood up. ‘That’s it for me, I’ll leave you two alone. Buzz me if you want a cup of coffee, Philip.’

  ‘Thanks, I will.’

  Barry strode over to the desk. ‘I don’t have anything else either at the moment. I want to get back to my office, dig into the report I’m preparing for you on your mother’s foreign holdings. I’m still behind on it.’

  ‘Okay, go ahead, Barry, do what you have to do. In any case, I have enough to keep me busy with that lot,’ he said, gesturing to the folders Barry had just placed on his desk. ‘I’ll see you at the meeting with Tom. Let me know the minute he arrives.’

  ‘Sure thing, Philip.’

  Left alone, Philip turned his attention to the two reports on their iron ore mining interests. Settling back in his chair, he began to read the first one, which consisted of fifteen typed pages. He was still reading the second, and making copious notes, an hour later when Maggie brought him a cup of coffee, and he did not start on the report about their Sydney real estate until ten o’clock. He was half way through this when Maggie’s voice came over the intercom.

  ‘Philip…’

  ‘Yes, Maggie?’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I have your housekeeper on the phone. She says it’s urgent.’

  ‘Oh… Okay, put her through.’ The phone on his left immediately began to ring. He picked it up. ‘Yes, Mrs Ordens?’

  ‘Something’s the matter with Mrs Amory,’ the housekeeper said, getting straight to the point, her anxiety and concern echoing down the wire.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Philip demanded sharply, instantly alarmed. He sat up straighter, gripped the phone hard.

  ‘I can’t wake her. I looked in on her at nine-thirty, as you told me to, but she was sleeping so soundly I decided to leave her be for a while. I just brought her breakfast tray up, and I’ve tried for the past ten minutes to rouse her, but it’s no good, Mr Amory. I think she might be unconscious.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Philip sprang to his feet, alarm signals going off in his head. ‘I’ll be right there!’ he exclaimed. ‘No, no, that won’t help. We must get her into hospital. The emergency room at St Vincent’s. I’ll send an ambulance. You must go with her. I’ll meet you there with Doctor Hardcastle, but I’ll call you back in a few minutes. Are you in the bedroom now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then stay there until the ambulance comes. And don’t leave my wife alone for one moment.’

  ‘No, I won’t. But please hurry, Mr Amory. I know there’s something terribly wrong.’

  Chapter 35

  A private ambul
ance transported Madelana to St Vincent’s Hospital in Darlinghurst, about fifteen minutes away from the Point Piper house. It was the hospital closest to the Eastern suburbs of Sydney.

  Mrs Ordens rode with her in the ambulance, holding onto her limp hand, watching over her as she had promised Philip she would. Not an eyelash flickered against that wan face, but Madelana’s breathing was even, and for this, at least, Mrs Ordens was thankful.

  The moment the ambulance arrived at the hospital Madelana was rushed straight into Emergency, and Mrs Ordens was shown into a private office which had been made available at the request of the patient’s doctor.

  Rosita Ordens sat down to wait for Philip Amory. He was on his way from the McGill Tower with Malcolm Hardcastle, the noted Sydney gynaecologist, who had been a close friend of Philip’s for several years.

  Clasping her hands together, Rosita Ordens focused her eyes on the door expectantly. She wished her boss would arrive. He was a brilliant man, always in command. He would soon find out exactly what was wrong with his wife. One thing was certain—she had not liked the peculiar looks exchanged by the two ambulance men when they had first seen Madelana Amory.

  Rosita bowed her head. She focused her thoughts on the lovely young American woman, who she had grown so fond of in the last eight months, willing her to be all right, to open her eyes, to speak to the doctors now examining her.

  A Catholic, like Maddy, Rosita began to pray under her breath. ‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus… Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou… Hail Mary, full of grace… Hail Mary…’ She went on repeating these words over and over again. Praying helped Rosita, gave her solace in times of trouble. Moreover, she was devout, believed her prayers would be answered by her merciful God.

  Suddenly she lifted her head with a start as the door was flung open. ‘Oh Mr Amory, thank goodness you’re here!’ she cried at the sight of Philip, jumping up, going over to him.

  Philip took hold of her hand. ‘Thanks for phoning me when you did, Mrs Ordens, and for acting so promptly. I’m grateful.’

  ‘Have you seen Mrs Amory yet?’

  ‘Very briefly, with Doctor Hardcastle. He’s examining her himself. Naturally, he’s concerned about the baby. And after he’s conferred with the doctors in Emergency, I’m sure he’ll be able to tell me what has caused her condition.’

  ‘She is unconscious then?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Rosita Ordens sucked in her breath quickly. ‘I do wish I’d tried to waken her earlier, that I—’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself, Mrs Ordens,’ Philip interrupted swiftly. ‘That serves no purpose, and you did what you believed was right. After all, she did appear to be merely in a deep sleep. I also thought that myself.’

  Rosita Ordens nodded glumly. Her worry knew no bounds.

  Philip went on, ‘Ken’s outside with the car. He’ll drive you back to the house. I’ll phone you the minute I have more news.’

  ‘Please do, Mr Amory. I’ll be anxious until I hear from you. So will Alice and Peggy.’

  ‘I know.’ He escorted the housekeeper over to the door. ‘Ken’s parked in front of the main entrance… he’s waiting for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Amory.’ Rosita slipped out of the office, knowing her employer wished to be alone.

  Philip sat down, sank at once into his troubled thoughts. His mind raced, seeking answers. It was not natural for anyone to fall into unconsciousness in the way Maddy had. Something serious had induced this state in her, he was convinced of that. Radical action was needed. He would bring in a team of specialists, send his private jet to get them if necessary, wherever they were. Yes, he would do it immediately. Now. Suddenly he stood up, then sat down again, his nerves on edge. He pushed back the awful panic swarming over him once more. He must stay calm, handle things with cool intelligence. Yet he could hardly contain himself. He wanted to rush back to Emergency to be with Maddy, to look after her, to stay with her until she was her normal self. But there was no point, not at this moment. He was helpless, could do nothing. And she was in the best hands for now. Philip believed in allowing the experts to do their jobs. He was not going to play doctor. That was a dangerous game.

  After what seemed like an eternity to Philip, but was, in reality, only twenty minutes, Malcolm Hardcastle entered the office.

  Philip was on his feet immediately, striding across the floor. He stared sharply at the gynaecologist, searching his face, his own anxious and full of questions. Urgently he asked, ‘What caused Maddy’s condition, Malcolm?’

  Taking hold of Philip’s arm, the doctor led him back to the group of chairs. ‘Let’s sit down for a minute.’

  Philip was astute, and when Malcolm did not give him a direct reply he was instantly alerted to trouble. Fear for Maddy gripped him. ‘What do you think happened to my wife between last night and this morning?’ he asked fiercely, his blue eyes flaring.

  Malcolm did not know how to break the news. After a split-second’s hesitation, he said, very quietly, ‘We’re fairly certain that Maddy’s had a brain haemorrhage.’

  ‘Oh my God no!’ Philip gaped at the doctor. He was stunned, shocked. ‘It can’t be so… it just can’t be!’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Philip, but I’m afraid all the signs are there. Two very respected brain surgeons have now seen Maddy since she was admitted. I’ve just consulted with them, and—’

  ‘I want a second opinion! Specialists brought in!’ Philip interjected, his voice rising harshly.

  ‘I guessed you would. I asked Doctor Litman to try and contact Alan Stimpson. As I’m sure you know, he’s Australia’s most renowned brain surgeon, and considered to be one of the best in the world. Thankfully he lives in Sydney.’ Malcolm put his hand on Philip’s arm, added in a most reassuring tone, ‘And even more fortunately for us, he happened to be at St Margaret’s Hospital out here in Darlinghurst this morning. Doctor Litman managed to catch him just as he was leaving to go back to the city. He should be joining us in a matter of seconds.’

  ‘Thanks, Malcolm,’ Philip said, calming down somewhat. ‘And excuse me for being snappish. I’m fraught with worry.’

  ‘That’s understandable, and you don’t have to apologize to me, Philip, I know the strain you’re under.’

  There was a knock, and the door opened to admit a tall, slender, sandy-haired man with a freckled face and sympathetic grey eyes.

  Malcolm Hardcastle leapt to his feet. ‘That was fast, Alan. Thanks for coming. I’d like to introduce Philip McGill Amory. Philip, this is Doctor Alan Stimpson, whom I was just speaking to you about.’

  Philip, who had also risen, greeted the renowned surgeon. They shook hands, and then the three of them sat down together.

  Alan Stimpson was a direct man who believed in getting to the crux of the matter at once. ‘I’ve just spoken to Doctor Litman, Mr Amory, and I will examine your wife in a moment.’ His gaze was steady, level, as he went on, ‘However, I hadn’t realized the baby’s birth was so imminent, that the child is actually now two weeks overdue.’ He glanced at Malcolm. ‘Have you explained to Mr Amory how dangerous a brain scan would be to the unborn child?’

  Malcolm shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t. I was waiting for you.’

  ‘Could you elucidate further, please?’ Philip said to Alan Stimpson, his alarm increasing. He clasped his hands together to stop them trembling.

  ‘There would be danger of radiation from a brain scan, Mr Amory. It would most probably injure the unborn child.’

  Philip was silent briefly. Then he asked, ‘Do you have to do a brain scan on my wife?’

  ‘It would enable us to ascertain the true extent of the cerebral damage.’

  ‘I see.’

  Doctor Stimpson continued in the same gentle tone, ‘However, before we make a decision about that, I must give Mrs Amory a very thorough physical examination. I will then consult with my
colleagues, and we’ll decide on the best course of medical action to take.’

  ‘I understand,’ Philip said. ‘But I hope some fairly fast decisions are going to be made. Surely time is of the essence?’

  ‘It is,’ Alan Stimpson replied. He stood. ‘Please excuse me.’ When the brain surgeon reached the door, he glanced back at the gynaecologist. ‘I’d like you to be at this examination, Malcolm, and consult with us, in view of your patient’s pregnancy.’

  Malcolm jumped up. ‘Of course, Alan.’ He turned to Philip. ‘Hang in there… and try to stay calm… take it easy.’

  ‘I will,’ Philip muttered, but he knew that this was the last thing he would be able to do. His gaze turned inward as he dropped his head into his hands, worrying about Maddy, becoming more anxious than ever for her. He was reeling from the shock. He could not believe this horrendous thing had happened. She had been so well last night. He felt as if he was living in some horrifying nightmare to which there was no end.

  ***

  Ten minutes later Philip jerked his head up, found himself looking at the worried face of his brother-in-law, Shane O’Neill, who stood framed in the doorway.

  Shane exclaimed, ‘I came as soon as I heard! I was out of the hotel. Barry tracked me down. He said to tell you he hasn’t been able to contact Daisy yet.’

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Philip murmured, relieved to see him.

  ‘Barry told me the housekeeper found Maddy unconscious this morning. What happened, Philip? What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘The doctors think she’s had a brain haemorrhage.’

  ‘Oh Jesus!’ Shane was aghast. He stood staring at Philip, disbelief washing over his face.

  ‘It occurred during the night most probably,’ Philip thought to add. His voice was hardly audible.

  Shane took the next chair. ‘But she seemed perfectly normal last evening at dinner! Do they know what caused the haemorrhage?’