He’s not dead. I know he isn’t, she thought again; she also knew she must be strong for her mother. That was imperative.
Linnet hovered near her mother’s desk, not far from the sofa where Paula sat with Emily Harte. These two were first cousins, had grown up together, and Linnet sometimes thought they seemed like sisters, so close were they to each other.
Her sister Tessa sat on the other side of Paula, saying similar things to their mother that Linnet had.
‘Mummy, I don’t believe Dad is dead, I honestly don’t. You said he had an early appointment, around nine o’clock. If that’s the case then Dad would have been arriving at the building just as the first plane was ploughing into it. Look, you can see the time frame there on the TV,’ Tessa pointed out. ‘He wouldn’t have gone into a burning building, now would he?’
Passing a hand over her strained face, Paula tried to steady herself, to stay calm. Bleakly she stared at Tessa, and finally nodded. Gulping air, she said in a low voice, ‘You’re right, Tess. And your sister said the same thing. I just wish I could speak to him…be certain he’s all right.’
Emily said, ‘Darling, he’s probably trying to get through right at this moment. Winston told me when he called a few minutes ago that nobody can get through to New York. It could be a dreadful overload, or it could be some sort of breakdown.’
‘Have you tried to fax Daddy at his office?’ Tessa asked, and then grimaced. ‘Of course you have, I guess you’ve thought of everything.’
‘More or less,’ Linnet volunteered, walking to the sofa, sitting down in a nearby chair. ‘And Uncle Winston has tried to get through to our newspaper offices on Forty-Second Street, and he can’t. I saw another timeline on TV, about ten minutes ago, and by nine twenty-one all of the bridges and tunnels leading into Manhattan had been closed down. The city’s isolated from the rest of the world right now, and who knows what’s happened to the telephone systems.’
‘We just have to hope against hope he’s safe,’ Emily murmured. ‘Look, maybe he never got to his appointment. If he realized something peculiar was going on he might have just turned around, gone back to the apartment or his office.’
Tessa exclaimed, ‘He might not have even been able to turn around, or get to a side street. If there was a traffic problem. All sorts of things could have intervened, you know, Mummy.’
Paula took Tessa’s hand in hers. ‘I know you’re right, but I am going to be on edge until I hear his voice.’
‘Or get a sign,’ Linnet suggested. Noting the odd look in her mother’s eyes, she decided to play it very safe, and added, in a businesslike voice, ‘Such as a fax.’
This comment startled Paula, and she said more energetically, ‘We didn’t try to fax him, Emily, maybe we should. Right now.’
‘That’s a great idea!’ Linnet cried, jumping up, rushing to Paula’s desk. She grabbed a piece of store stationery and after addressing the note to her father, she wrote, Dearest Shane. We know you had an appointment at the World Trade Center this morning. Please let us know you are safe. Love, Paula, Tessa, Linnet and Emily. Putting her pen down, she read it aloud to the others.
‘Send it immediately,’ Emily exclaimed.
‘Yes, do that,’ her mother added.
Paula had retreated to the dressing room which opened off her office some time ago, wanting to be alone, to pull herself together. She loved her daughters and Emily, knew how well-intentioned they were, trying to help her, but at this moment she needed space…peace and quiet.
It was unbearable for her to even consider that Shane might have been killed at the World Trade Center this morning, and yet there was that possibility. She shrank away from it yet again, curling up on the small loveseat, pressing her face into the cushion. Had he been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Avalanche… the decades fell away. She remembered that awful day when her father and her first husband had been killed in an avalanche at Chamonix. They had definitely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone had called it an Act of God, or an Act of Mother Nature. The catastrophic event that had taken place this morning in New York was an Act of Terrorism…man-made.
She began to shake uncontrollably, feeling suddenly icy cold. And also frightened. She could not contemplate life without Shane. He had always been with her since they were children. They had grown up together, been best friends. And then they had gone their separate ways, in a certain sense, and she had eventually married Jim Fairley, the last of the Fairleys. But it was Shane she truly loved, with all her heart, and she had soon realized her terrible mistake as her marriage to Jim had begun to fall apart. Their separation had been very bitter. And then, so unexpectedly, he had been killed. She had never wanted that, only wanted a divorce…
Of course Shane could be alive. The girls and Emily were right. He might well have arrived late for his appointment, seen the disaster happening from the street and retreated. And even if he had been early for the appointment he may well have escaped; all of the things they had suggested were feasible. Think positive, she told herself sitting up on the loveseat, straightening her clothes. Think clearly.
After a moment or two Paula rose, went to the wash basin, cleaned her smudged eye make-up, put on fresh lipstick, and brushed her hair. And then she went back into her office knowing that she must be strong and brave for everyone in the family, that she must now take charge, hold everything together.
Three pairs of eyes turned to look at her as she walked into the room, and she saw the anxiety and worry on their faces. It was impossible for her to smile at them, but she knew she must reassure them, and so she said in a steady voice, ‘I think we’d better start making phone calls to New York again.’ Focusing on Linnet, she asked, ‘Did that fax go through to your father?’
‘No, it didn’t. Look, fax machines are linked to phones, so…’ Linnet shrugged, lifted her hands. ‘Once that problem clears up the fax will automatically pass, Mummy.’
‘I know. Please order some tea, Linnet dear. And Emily, would you give Winston a call, see if he knows anything we don’t, which is more than likely. And Tessa, perhaps you can try to get through to the New York apartment.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Tessa answered, and walked over to the windows, took her mobile phone from her pocket and began to dial. Linnet hurried out to speak to Jonelle, one of her mother’s secretaries, to ask for tea to be ordered. And Emily phoned her husband at the newspaper offices.
Paula sat down at her desk, wondering what their next options were. Not many. Damnation, she muttered under her breath. If only the phone system would spring back to life in Manhattan. Without phones and faxes they were isolated.
As if reading her mind, Tessa said in a low voice, ‘No luck, Mums. Nothing happens. The number doesn’t ring through to the apartment.’
Paula nodded, then looked at the clock. To her surprise it was almost four. Eleven in the morning in New York.
Emily said, ‘I’ve just spoken to Winston, and he has the same problem as we do. They’re not in communication with the New York offices, not even e-mails are going through.’
‘Because everything is linked to the phone systems,’ Linnet exclaimed, and went and sat on the sofa, her eyes glued to the television set once again, her horror intensifying at the scenes unfolding before her eyes.
After a short while Jonelle brought in a tray of tea, and they sat drinking it, saying very little to each other, all of them thrust down into their terrifying thoughts.
For the next hour the phones in Paula’s office rang constantly, as various people checked in. Winston, Gideon and Toby called Emily to find out if Paula had heard anything from Shane; Julian called Linnet several times, and Lorne phoned his mother from Paris. When Grandfather Bryan came on the line later Paula lied and said Shane was nowhere near the World Trade Center.
At one moment Linnet said to the room at large, ‘The airports are closed as well. So Manhattan is truly isolated now. Dad won’t be able to get home for days.’
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Paula threw Linnet a swift glance. ‘You’re convinced your father is all right, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am. We’ll hear from him, you’ll see. I just know it in my bones.’
The phone calls were never-ending. Grandfather Bryan rang again and so did India and Evan from the Leeds store. Shane’s personal assistant Edgar Madsen rang up four times within the space of thirty minutes on some pretext or other.
Paula knew that Edgar was as frantic as they all were, and kept calling her because hearing her voice reassured him. She almost told him to come over to the store at one moment, then changed her mind. It was far better he remained at Shane’s office in Mayfair just in case Shane managed to get through.
From time to time she glanced at her watch, saw that the minutes were ticking away. She was relieved that Desmond had returned to boarding school on Sunday, and that Emsie was also back at school in Harrogate. Although they knew their father had remained in New York, neither of them had any idea that he had stayed behind to attend a meeting at the World Trade Center today.
Leaning back in her chair, taking a sip of the fresh tea Jonelle had just brought in, Paula’s deep-blue eyes swept the room. Emily was near the windows again, talking on her mobile, either to her own office or to Winston.
Tessa had joined Linnet on the sofa, totally concentrating on the tragic events playing out in downtown Manhattan. Paula found she was mesmerized herself for a good fifteen minutes until there was a sudden lull in the coverage, and earlier film was played again, with a reporter giving a running commentary.
Linnet, who was holding the remote control, suddenly began to change stations in rapid succession, going from CNN to Sky News to the BBC, then zapping onto ITV. She zapped one more time and finally hit ITIN, their own Independent Television International Network. It was part of Harte Media International, was run by Winston and Toby, had an affiliation with CNBC in New York. She watched closely, her eyes fixed on the TV set.
Her mother had jumped up, started to walk over to the TV set to join Linnet and Tessa when one of the phones on her desk shrilled. As she paused, reached to pick it up, she saw it was her private line, and her heart missed a beat. ‘Paula O’Neill,’ she said in a low voice.
‘It’s me, darling.’
‘Oh Shane! Oh Shane darling! I’ve been frantic. Thank God you’re all right! We’ve all been so terribly worried.’ She burst into tears.
‘I know you must’ve been. Don’t cry, I’m all right. I couldn’t get through, darling. Not to you, Dad, the office in London or Winston. I couldn’t even get through to my office here in New York or the apartment. The phones are overloaded, probably down in some areas.’
‘Shane darling, I’m here with Linnet and Tessa. Emily’s here as well. We’ve been distraught. They’re blowing kisses to you, and they’ll come to the phone. But first tell me what happened? How did you manage to get out of the World Trade Center?’
‘I never made it to the meeting, Paula,’ Shane said, his voice sober. Then he went on to explain. ‘Thomas Mercado, the chap I was having the meeting with, called me at home at eight this morning, asked me to come to his office at nine-thirty instead of nine. He had to take his son to school. By nine-twenty I was stuck in downtown traffic. I never got to the World Trade Center. But I saw it all happening, Paula: it was horrendous, so unbelievable I can hardly describe it. I realized after about ten minutes that there was nothing else to do but try to get back uptown. But we were in a gridlock. I finally had to abandon the car, and the driver came with me. I stood on the street trying to phone you and Winston with no success. And I also called everybody’s mobiles as well.’
‘You’re so lucky, Shane,’ Paula whispered, suddenly choked, her eyes filling with tears.
‘I’m the luckiest man alive, darling,’ he replied. ‘I saw the South Tower collapse around ten o’clock and then the North Tower at about ten-twenty. A fireman nearby suddenly shouted at me, told me to run like hell. And I did. With my driver and everyone else, I ran through the streets of Lower Manhattan. The roar of the towers collapsing was like nothing I’d ever heard. Ever in my life. I’ll never forget it.’
‘Oh Shane, we’re so lucky, you and I…’ She was quiet for a moment, thanked God silently in her head. And then she said, ‘Here’s Linnet.’
Linnet, Tessa and Emily all spoke to Shane, and finally Paula came back to the phone. ‘I suppose you’re stuck there, darling?’
‘I am, I’m afraid. All of the airports are closed. But I think they’ll open up by the end of the week.’
‘I’ve never even asked you where you are. So, where are you?’
‘At home. At the apartment. As I said, I’ve been dialling numbers for several hours, and I couldn’t believe it when I finally got through to you. Now I’ll try to phone my father. But please call him in ten minutes to tell him I’m all right. Reaching you might have been a fluke.’
‘That it might. I love you, Shane.’
‘And I love you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
From the moment she had met Robin Ainsley, Evan had felt perfectly at ease with him. She realized this was because he had treated her in such a warm and friendly way that all of her nervousness had instantly evaporated.
And he had continued to be natural, outgoing, and very open with her, spoke to her as if she were his only confidante. And perhaps she was. Certainly he unburdened himself to her from time to time, and she had understood for months how important she was in his life. She was his granddaughter and he treated her as such, and she did the same, having adjusted her thinking. He was her biological grandfather and she loved him, but it did not make her love Richard Hughes any the less. He had been her grandfather as well, and for her entire life until he died.
Now as she sat on the terrace at Lackland Priory, waiting for Robin to come back outside, she experienced a little rush of sadness that her parents had decided to go back to the States earlier than planned. She had hoped to inveigle them to Yorkshire, to stay at Pennistone Royal with Paula, and to meet Robin when they were here. But that idea would not work anymore.
The terrorist attacks on New York and Washington four days ago had made them realize how much they wanted to be at home, ‘to help in any way we can’, her mother had explained yesterday. And Evan understood their sense of patriotism, felt the same way they did. But she had responsibilities here, and crucial matters to deal with in the next few weeks. There was a lot at stake.
They’ll meet Robin another time, she thought; they’ll have to come back for my wedding, won’t they? If it ever happens, she then added to herself glumly. Gideon had been difficult lately; they had not seen each other all week and so they had not been able to settle certain differences between them. She had been busy with the remodelling of the Leeds store, and he had had his hands full in London with the breaking news on the terrorist attacks.
Even though it was Saturday, he had chosen to stay in London for the weekend, and although she understood why, she was, nonetheless, disappointed not to be with him. But the newspapers came first, she had long known that. All of the Hartes put business first, for the most part anyway.
Lifting the silver coffee pot, Evan poured herself another cup, added milk and a sweetener, sat sipping it, enjoying the lovely September day. It was unusually warm, a pretty day with a blue sky and bright sunshine. A very clear day. No mists creeping down from the moors this morning.
She heard Robin’s step and glanced over her shoulder, smiling at him.
He smiled in return, and came and sat down next to her. ‘I’m sorry I was so long, but my sister Edwina needed to discuss a bit of business with me, and she doesn’t take no for an answer.’ He chuckled, added, ‘She’s in her nineties, as you know, but nobody would ever guess it.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ Evan replied. ‘India and Tessa talk about her as if she’s a bright young thing. Their age.’
Robin laughed again. ‘She thinks she is, I can tell you that.’
‘Rob
in, there’s something I want to tell you,’ Evan said, leaning closer, looking at him squarely. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to bring my parents up to Yorkshire, as I’d planned. They’re going back to America sometime next week. They feel they must, because of the terrorist attacks.’
Disappointment instantly flickered in his eyes, but he nodded, and told her, ‘I do understand. I think I’d feel the way they do if this country were attacked like that. An act of war was perpetrated on the United States on Tuesday. Without a declaration of war being in effect. Thousands of innocent people have been killed in the most unconscionable way. Your mother and father have the genuine need to be at home, I realize that, and it’s only natural.’ He gave her a loving smile. ‘But they’ll come back to England, I’m sure, and anyway hadn’t we once decided that it might be better if your father didn’t know who I am?’
She nodded. ‘We did, but I’m ambivalent about it now. I know Gideon feels Dad ought to know the truth, and my mother, too, now that Gideon and I are engaged.’
‘More than likely, but I can meet Owen another time. So don’t fret yourself about it, Evan.’
‘Thank you for being so understanding, always so kind to me, Robin.’
‘I love you, my dear, and you are my only grandchild.’ After refilling his cup with coffee, adding sugar, he continued carefully, ‘Evan, I have something to explain to you but it must remain absolutely confidential…just between us.’
‘I understand. You know I would never betray a confidence.’
‘Of course I do. But what I am about to tell you must remain a secret, because I would not want Jonathan ever to find out about it. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Evan said quietly, feeling suddenly cold as she always did when she heard that name.
Reaching into the pocket of his old tweed jacket, Robin took out a small white postcard and handed it to her. ‘I have created a trust for you. All of the details are on the card. It’s been handled in such a way that it can never be traced to me. But just to be certain, please don’t discuss it with anyone, not even Gideon. All right?’