To Be the Best (38 page)

‘I agree with you, Emily,’ Anthony said. ‘There has to be some sort of advanced treatment in this day and age.
Somewhere.
I can’t accept this either, Sandy. I won’t.’ He averted his face, struggling with his feelings.

Alexander shook his head, and it was with a finality that was unmistakable. ‘I understand how the three of you feel. I was exactly the same as you in the beginning. Looking for a cure, full of hope, but the hope rapidly changed to frustration, then anger, and finally to
acceptance.
You see…’ He stopped, took several deep breaths, continued slowly, ‘There is absolutely nothing that can be done for me. And believe me, I
have
been to the very best specialists in London, New York and Zurich. What I’m suffering from
is
fatal. I’m having treatment, of course, but there has been hardly any remission.’

A grim silence settled in the drawing room.

Alexander sat back in his chair, relieved at last to have finally told them. He had resigned himself to his fate some time ago, but he had worried greatly about the family and how they would take it, most especially Emily.

For their parts, his sister and his cousins were trying to come to grips with the heartbreaking news he had just imparted, striving to absorb it, and to get a hold of their emotions as well. They each, in their different ways, loved Alexander, and although they did not know it, they were sharing the same thought at this precise moment. All were asking themselves why it had to be Alexander who had been stricken in this manner. He was the finest, the kindest, the most loving and understanding of men. The very best. He
had always been there for them, whenever they had needed him, no matter what the problem, and that was how he had been since childhood. The three cousins believed him to be the one truly
good
man they knew. If anyone was a saint, it was Alexander.

Paula eventually spoke. ‘You’ve known for some months, haven’t you?’

Alexander nodded, then picked up his glass of white wine, took a sip.

‘Was it the end of August last year when you found out you were ill?’ she asked.

‘No, it was October. But you’re close enough, Paula.’ He gave her an odd look. ‘How did you know?’

Paula’s grave face was infinitely still. ‘I didn’t. Not really. But I did have a queer feeling things were not right with you, when you phoned me from Leeds – the day we missed each other at Fairley. There was such a peculiar note in your voice, it prompted me to ask you if there was a problem, and, if you recall, you said no. So I dismissed it, I thought it was my imagination getting the better of me.’

‘You were very perceptive that morning,’ Alexander murmured. ‘I felt uneasy, wanted to talk to you. I was already starting to have symptoms. I was becoming fatigued quickly, and it worried me, and I discovered I bruised and bled very easily…if I merely knocked myself against something.’

Alexander got up, went to fetch the bottle of wine, refilled Paula’s and Emily’s glasses, and his own, took the bottle back to the silver ice bucket on the console.

The others waited in silence, dreading what else he had to say to them.

He went on, as he sat down, ‘I was doing a lot of work on the estate at Nutton Priory in late September, and I was baffled. I wondered if I’d become a haemophiliac overnight – if that was possible. Then early in October I developed the

most frightful ulcers in my mouth. I was growing more alarmed than ever, and that’s why I cancelled our lunch date, Paula. I finally went to see my doctor. He immediately sent me to a specialist in Harley Street. The tests and the bone marrow biopsy were quite conclusive.’

‘You say you’re having treatment,’ Anthony said. ‘It must be doing you some good, Sandy, having some effect. You don’t look as though you’re dreadfully ill. You’re a trifle pale perhaps, thinner, but –’

‘All it’s doing is keeping me going for the moment,’ Alexander interjected.

Emily looked at her brother closely. ‘What sort of treatment is it?’

‘Transfusions of red blood cells, and platelets when I need them. I also take antibiotics from time to time, to help reduce the chances of my getting infections.’

‘I see.’ Emily bit her inner lip nervously. ‘You just said the treatment is keeping you going…for…for…how long?’ she asked in a voice that shook. She was filled with fear for her brother.

‘Four to five months at the outside, I think. Not many people last much longer than a year, after this type of leukaemia has been diagnosed.’

Emily’s mouth trembled. ‘I can’t bear it. Not you. It’s just not fair. Oh Sandy, you can’t be dying!’ She tried to push back the tears, knowing he wanted her to be strong, to face this with the same kind of courage he was displaying. She was unable to do so.

She jumped up, hurried out of the drawing room, aware that she was about to break down completely.

Emily stood at the bottom of the staircase in the entrance hall, holding the banister, filled with an internal shaking. Slowly the tears slid down her cheeks unchecked as she quietly wept for her brother. He was only thirty-seven. Her mind balked at the thought of his imminent death. It was unacceptable to her.

After only a matter of seconds, the drawing room door opened and closed softly. Emily felt Alexander’s arms encircling her. He turned her around to face him, took a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped the tears from her face.

‘Come on, Dumpling, try to hang in there. For me,’ he said. ‘I can’t stand to see you so upset. It doesn’t help me. I realize this has been a ghastly shock for you, on the other hand there is no
easy
way to break this kind of news. How
do
you tell your loved ones that you’re dying?’

Emily was incapable of responding. Her eyes welled again, and she buried her face against his chest, held onto him tightly.

He said, very softly, ‘I’m glad you reminded me of Gran’s attitude…you know, about just blurting it out. It
did
help me to screw up my courage and get it said. I’d been putting it off for weeks.’

Alexander smoothed his hand over her hair, and there was a pause before he remarked, ‘I’ve hidden my illness from you for a very long time, old thing. However, it is going to start showing very soon. So you
had
to be told. And there are a lot of things which must be properly dealt with.
Now.
They can’t be put off any longer…time does go so
quickly,
especially when one is trying to hold onto it.’

Emily swallowed hard, wanting to be strong, but finding it difficult. She stood very still, snapping her eyes shut.

After a moment, when she had regained a little of her self-possession, she said, ‘Nothing will ever be the same again, Sandy, not when you’re…gone. Whatever will we all do? Whatever will
I
do?’ As the words left her mouth she realized how selfish she was being, but she could not take them back. It was too late, they had been said, and to apologize to him would only make matters worse.

He said softly, in a confident tone, ‘You’ll be all right, Emily. You’ll keep going, and with the strength and courage you’ve always had…Gran’s kind of fortitude. She taught you how to soldier on when you were a little girl. And you have Winston and your family.’ A long sigh trickled through Alexander, and as if thinking aloud he murmured against her hair, ‘Francesca’s all right too, now that she’s married to Oliver, but I do worry about Amanda. She’s such a vulnerable young woman, so impressionable, really. You will keep an eye on her, won’t you?’ For the first time Alexander’s voice held a slight tremor. He glanced away, hid his face from her, then coughed behind his hand.

Emily said, ‘You know I will, darling.’

They stood together for a few minutes longer.

Alexander held her closer, gathering as much of his diminished strength as possible, aware that he had a great deal to say in the next half hour. He was not looking forward to it. But it had to be done, and the best way, he had decided earlier, was to be very businesslike about everything.

Emily could feel Sandy’s bones through his clothes, and she realized how thin he had grown. She drew away, stole a quick glance at him, took note of his pallor, the faint purplish smudges under his eyes, and her heart sank. She could not understand why she had not noticed signs that he was ill before now, and she cursed herself angrily for not having paid more attention in the last few months.

Alexander finally released her, and taking out his handkerchief once more he blotted her damp cheeks. A fleeting smile touched his eyes. How blonde and small and dainty she was. She had always reminded him of a fragile piece of Dresden china. Yet she had a backbone of steel, and there was an indomitability about her that reminded him of their grandmother. And he knew that as distressed as she was now, in the long run she would be strong for everyone. He could count on his sister. Like Emma Harte before her, she had grit.

Emily was acutely aware of Alexander’s intense scrutiny. She returned it, said, ‘I’ll be fine, Sandy,’ as though she had read his mind.

Alexander smiled at her, nodded.

There was a brief silence before Emily went on slowly, in a low voice, ‘You’ve not only been a wonderful brother to me, but mother, father, best friend as well. You’ve been…everything to me, Sandy. I’ve never
really
told you before how I feel, but I do want you to know that I –’

‘I’m very aware of how you feel,’ he interrupted swiftly, unable to deal with any more emotion at this time. ‘And I love you too, Emily. Now we’d better go back to the drawing room, join the others, don’t you think? There are arrangements to be made. For the future.’

‘I’d like to talk about business first. About Harte Enterprises to be specific,’ Alexander said, once they were all gathered around the fire again.

‘Yes, of course, anything you wish,’ Paula answered. Her eyes were red and watery, betrayed her, despite her air of calmness. It was obvious that she had wept whilst her cousins had been out of the room, but she now appeared to be in total control of herself.

‘I’ve had time to think things out,’ Alexander began, ‘and
I’d like to share some of my thoughts with you before I come to my final decisions. I suppose I’m looking for your input before I put my plans into motion.’

‘But I’m not involved in any of the family businesses,’ Anthony immediately reminded him. ‘Are you sure I’m not in the way?’ His expression turned quizzical.

‘No, you’re not. And anyway, you’re the eldest of Emma Harte’s grandchildren, and you ought to – ‘

‘Paula’s the head of the family though,’ Anthony countered. ‘And thank God she is, too. It’s not a job I’d relish, I don’t mind telling you.’

Alexander smiled with a certain wryness. ‘I know what you mean. But to continue, you’re my closest male friend, and very simply put, I want you here. Let’s just say for moral support shall we, old chap?’

The Earl nodded, got up, strode over to the console where he refreshed his scotch and soda. He glanced across at Paula and Emily. ‘Do either of you want another drink?’

Both women shook their heads.

‘How about you, Sandy?’

‘I’m fine right now, thanks.’

Alexander waited until Anthony had returned to the sofa before he turned to Emily, and went on, ‘I’m sorry I called this meeting when Winston is in Canada, but I had to have it this week because I’m going into hospital tomorrow for treatment. He ought to have been here, of course, as head of the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company and our Canadian papers. On the other hand, the divisions he runs are not actually relevant to this discussion.’

‘He’ll understand, Sandy.’ Emily leaned forward, pinned her brother with her green eyes. ‘How long are you going to be in hospital?’ she asked, her worry instantly showing.

‘Only a few days, and don’t be concerned about it. The treatment does help me. Now, I would like to move along. Look, I know what I’m going to talk about is upsetting. But
please,
don’t be upset.
It must all be said, and I want my affairs to be in order…a Harte family trait, I believe.’

Alexander’s gaze swept over the three of them, and he went on to explain in a thoughtful tone, ‘I’ve analysed Harte Enterprises in every conceivable way over the past couple of weeks, trying to decide what to do with the company. I considered selling it, knowing it would fetch hundreds of millions of pounds which we could reinvest in the market. Then I thought of selling off only certain divisions, keeping others. And then it struck me how unfair I was being to you, Emily.’

Before she had a chance to say anything, he rushed on, ‘After all, you run Genret, which is one of our biggest money-making divisions, and you’re the only other shareholder –’

‘Except for Jonathan and Sarah,’ Emily cut in, ‘and I don’t suppose they’re of any consequence.’

‘No, they’re not,’ Alexander agreed. ‘In any event, Emily, I realized it was rather imperious of me to make decisions without consulting you. And it was certainly wrong of me to assume, as I did initially, that you might not want to run Harte Enterprises yourself. A few days ago, yet another thought occurred to me…what would Grandy have wanted us to do with Harte Enterprises in view of my illness? I instantly concluded that she would not want us to sell it. The company is too solid, too rich, too important to the family as a whole for us to relinquish it. Don’t you agree?’

‘Yes,’ Emily managed, more aware than ever of what the future without her brother would actually mean.

‘Paula, what is your opinion?’ Alexander asked.

‘You’re absolutely right about everything,’ Paula said, striving to sound normal. ‘Grandy did have very strong feelings about Harte Enterprises. She would want Emily to continue in your stead. That
is
what you have in mind, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I think Emily should become chairman of the board and chief executive officer within the next few weeks. That way we can make a smooth transfer of power in the company and I can step down. Fairly soon, too, I hope.’

‘I suppose you’ll want Amanda to run Genret,’ Emily ventured.