Gordon still had a thousand questions in his mind about it, but unless Isabelle recovered, he knew he would never have the answers. Bill Robinson was certainly not going to tell him anything. It bothered Gordon in principle, but in truth he had not thought of her romantically or sexually in years.
Gordon had left instructions at the hospital desk when he left, that Bill was not to be allowed in her room again. The nurse had written it all down very formally, but Gordon had had the uneasy feeling that none of his wishes were going to be followed. They seemed to have an inordinate amount of sympathy for Bill, and none for Gordon. Not to mention a huge amount of respect and admiration for who he was. Bill Robinson was a very important man.
When Gordon left the airport, he went straight to the office and made several phone calls. He explained the situation to his secretary, which he had not done previously, and she did not mention to him that she had seen the photograph of Isabelle and Bill in the International Herald Tribune. She knew better. And at his request, that afternoon, she handed him Sophie's number in Portugal. Isabelle had left it with her when she left for London, just in case.
Sophie was staying at a rented house with friends in Sintra, she was out, so all Gordon could do was leave a message for her. She called him back at six o'clock, just as he was about to leave the office. He took a sharp breath as he picked up the phone, and braced himself for what he had to tell her.
“How was London?” she asked cheerfully. “Did you and Mom have fun?”
“How did you know I went to London?” He had told virtually no one, except Teddy and his nurse.
“I called home over the weekend, and talked to Teddy. Didn't he tell you?”
“I haven't seen him yet. I came straight to the office from the airport this morning,” Gordon said coolly. He was stalling, groping for words.
“I'll call home then. I have to ask Mom something.”
“She can't talk to you,” he said cryptically, dreading this moment. It was a nightmare from which he could not wake. Instead he had to pull his children into it with him.
“Why not? Is she out?”
“No, your mother is in London.”
“That's funny. She stayed?” It was unlike her mother to leave Teddy at all, let alone for six days. Sophie knew her mother had gone to London on Tuesday. “When is she coming back?” She sounded confused.
“We don't know yet.” He took a final breath then and dove in. “Sophie, your mother had an accident.” There was dead silence at the other end of the phone, as she waited, and her heart was pounding. Something about the way he said it was terrifying. “A very serious accident. I think you should come home.”
“What happened? Is she all right?” She was so breathless, she could hardly squeeze out the words.
“She was in a car that was in an accident with a bus.” There was no avoiding the truth now. “She's in a coma. They don't know what's going to happen. She has very serious internal injuries. She may not survive. I'm sorry to tell you on the phone. But I want you to make arrangements to come back to Paris as soon as possible.” In spite of his feelings for Sophie, and allegedly for Isabelle, he sounded as though he were planning a business meeting. Gordon was doing everything he could not to feel his daughter's pain. It was an indulgence he could not allow himself.
“Oh my God … oh my God …” Sophie sounded on the verge of hysterics, which was unlike her. She was normally cool and calm and sensible and relatively unemotional, like her father. But what he had just said to her exceeded her worst nightmares. All her life she had been preparing to lose her brother, but never her mother, whom she loved more than she'd ever wanted to admit to herself. This had been the farthest thing from her mind when her father called her. “Oh my God, Daddy, do you think she'll die?” He could hear that Sophie was crying, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say.
“It's possible,” he said, looking uncomfortable as he sat in his office staring into space. He was thinking back to when his own mother had died, and doing all he could to push the memories away. “It's a hopeful sign that she's still alive, but she's in very critical condition, and there's been no improvement,” he said honestly as Sophie cried harder, and could not stop sobbing while he waited, and he could think of nothing to say to reassure her. He didn't want to lie to her and hold out false hopes, and the truth was that Isabelle could die at any moment. Sophie had to face that, as would Teddy.
And then she thought of something with a ripple of fear. “Does Teddy know?” He had sounded fine on the weekend, and he had never lied to her before. Sophie couldn't imagine Teddy keeping that kind of secret from her, or sounding as cheerful as he had when she called.
“No, he doesn't know. I want to wait and tell him when you get home. I think you should get off the phone now and make the arrangements. Can someone there help you?”
“I don't know,” she said, sounding disoriented. “I want to go to London to see Mommy.” She sounded like a five-year-old, and suddenly felt like an orphan.
“I want you to come home first,” he said firmly. He wanted her with him when he told Teddy. He did not intend to shoulder that burden alone.
“All right,” she said, still crying uncontrollably.
“Call me when you know when you're arriving. I'll have someone pick you up.” It never dawned on him to do it himself, even under these circumstances. Being distant and aloof was so natural to him that he found it impossible to break through his walls, even for his daughter, but she had always known that about him. They all did, although she was the closest to him.
“I'll try to come home tonight,” she said, sounding distracted. She was two hours from Lisbon, but she might be able to catch a late flight out, if she hurried. Otherwise, she'd have to wait till the next morning.
They hung up a moment later, and Gordon had his driver take him back to the house. It was the first he had seen of Teddy in four days, and the boy seemed in good spirits, but he asked for his mother the moment he saw Gordon in the doorway of his room.
“Where's Mom? Is she downstairs?” His eyes filled with light as he said her name.
“No, she's not,” Gordon said vaguely, trying to stall him by looking austere. “I think Sophie's coming back from Portugal tonight.”
“She is?” The boy looked surprised, but the diversion had worked, for an instant. “Mommy said Sophie would be gone for two weeks. Why is she coming back early?” She hadn't mentioned it on the phone on Saturday, and instinctively he sensed something. And then, like a dog returning to a bone, he asked the same question again. “Where's Mom?” Gordon didn't dare tell him she was still in London, he'd know something was wrong. Teddy was too bright and sensitive to fool for long. All Gordon could hope was that Sophie would be home soon to help him tell the boy.
“I'll see you in a little while,” Gordon said, without answering him. “I have to make some calls.” And with that, he left Teddy's room and disappeared. But it was obvious that his son was worried. Gordon looked grim as he strode down the hall to his own room.
“Where's my mother?” Gordon heard him ask the nurse, as he closed the door. It was going to be a long night until Sophie got home. He decided to solve the problem by staying downstairs, in the library, and was stunned an hour later, when he looked up and saw Teddy walk slowly into the room. He had insisted on coming downstairs himself, and the nurse had been unable to stop him. He looked agitated and very pale.
“Something's wrong,” Teddy said quietly, leaning breathlessly against a chair as he looked his father in the eye. Gordon had been dismissive of him all his life, but this time he was not going to be put off. He had a determined look that reminded Gordon of Isabelle. He had never seen Teddy look that way before. And for the first time, he noticed that Teddy no longer looked like a child. “I want to know where my mother is,” he said as he sat down. He was prepared to wait all night, if he had to, for an answer. They would have had to drag or carry him from the room.