private ambulance 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?’

Philip shook his head. ‘Not yet. But Doctor Stimpson is examining her right now. He’s one of the world’s foremost brain surgeons. We’re damned lucky he wasn’t abroad, and that he was actually out here at a nearby hospital in Darlinghurst this morning.’

‘I’ve heard of Alan Stimpson,’ Shane said. ‘He has an extraordinary record, has performed some miraculous brain operations. From what I’ve read about him, there’s nobody better.’

‘Yes, he is brilliant.’ Philip turned to Shane. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to Maddy,’ he blurted out shakily. ‘She’s the most important thing in my life…’ He bit off the end of the sentence, unable to continue, averted his head so that Shane would not see the sudden tears glittering in his eyes.

‘Maddy’s going to be all right,’ Shane asserted, his voice confident, strong. ‘Let’s not dwell on the worst, but think of the best instead. We’ve got to take a positive attitude, Philip. And you’re not going to lose her. We must hold that thought.’

‘Yes…I’m glad you’re here, Shane. It does help.’ Shane nodded.

A silence developed between the two men.

All of Philip’s thoughts and his mind and his heart were with his wife in Emergency. He kept seeing her face. It had been pale, still, devoid of expression when he had seen her a short while before. He could not forget the limpness of her hand when he had held it in his. There had been something so lifeless about Maddy. His mind balked at the idea that she might slip away from him. He refused to contemplate this.

From time to time, Shane looked at Philip. His heart went out to his brother-in-law. But he did not say a word, not wishing to intrude on Philip’s privacy. It was obvious that he wanted to be quiet, to be left alone. He was faraway, his handsome face ringed with worry, and his bright blue eyes, so like Paula’s, were troubled, filled with growing anxiety.

Shane sat back. Silently he offered up a prayer for Maddy.

When Daisy came into the office a little later, Shane was on his feet and across the room to her immediately. She was white, and there was a stricken expression on her face. Shane put his arm around her protectively.

She looked up at him questioningly. ‘What has happened to Maddy?’ she asked tremulously, clutching at him.

Shane explained in a muted voice, ‘It looks as if she may have had a brain haemorrhage.’

‘Oh no! Not Maddy! Philip –’ She flew across the room to her son, sat down in the chair Shane had just vacated, reached out her hand to him, wanting to give him comfort.

‘I’m all right, Ma,’ Philip said, taking her hand in his, squeezing it. ‘The doctors are with Maddy now…Malcolm Hardcastle, two doctors from the hospital, and Alan Stimpson, the famous brain surgeon.’

‘He’s wonderful,’ Daisy said, relieved to hear that this man was in charge medically. Her hopes for Maddy soared. ‘I’ve met him several times through the Foundation…he’s the very best. You could not ask for a finer doctor to take care of Maddy.’

‘I know, Ma.’

Daisy swung her eyes to Shane, hovering nearby. ‘Barry is very anxious…he hasn’t heard from either of you. You must call him, Shane, let him know what’s going on. He can then get in touch with Jason, who went to Perth last night.’

‘Oh God, yes, I did forget to phone him,’ Philip muttered. ‘I’ll do so now, and I’ll call Mrs Ordens at the house. She and the maids are as concerned as we are.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Amory, but there is little question that your wife has suffered a cerebral haemorrhage,’ Doctor Stimpson told Philip forty minutes later. ‘Her condition is very grave.’

Philip, who was standing near the window, thought his legs were going to give way under him. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair. He was unable to speak.

Shane had been introduced to the two doctors by Daisy a moment before, and he took charge, addressed the brain surgeon. ‘What’s your recommendation, Doctor Stimpson?’

‘I would like to do the brain scan as soon as possible, and then trepan her skull. That operation would at least relieve the pressure of the blood clot on her brain. Also, I should point out that without the trepanning of her skull she might never regain consciousness. She could be in a coma for the rest of her life.’

Philip stifled an anguished cry. He clenched his hands, digging his nails into his palms. Maddy never to be conscious again. The thought of this was so appalling, so terrifying, he could not – would not – countenance it.

Alan Stimpson, compassionate, caring, saw the agony on Philip’s face, the mixture of pain and apprehension now flickering in those blue eyes. He was silent, waiting for the other man to marshal his swimming senses.

At last Philip whispered, ‘Please go on, Doctor Stimpson.’

‘There is the complication for the baby, Mr Amory. If your wife were only a few weeks or even a few months pregnant, I would recommend aborting the child. Obviously that is not possible at this late stage of the pregnancy. And…well, she could go into labour at any moment. Therefore, the child must be delivered by caesarian section. I recommend that this be done without further delay.’

‘I can perform the caesarian immediately,’ Malcolm said.

‘Will that endanger my wife’s life?’ Philip asked quickly.

It was Alan Stimpson who answered him. ‘Quite the contrary…I’d say she could be in more danger if Malcolm doesn’t perform the caesarian. Also, in another sense it would be very helpful, in that I could perform the scan and the operation without fear of doing injury to the unborn baby.’

‘Then go ahead with the caesarian. Now,’ Philip answered rapidly, wanting no further procrastination. ‘But I would like Maddy sent to a private hospital…if she can be moved, of course.’

‘We can arrange to transfer Mrs Amory to St Vincent’s private wing next door,’ the surgeon said.

‘Then let’s do that.’ Philip rose to his feet. ‘I want to go to my wife now, to be with her. And I’ll accompany her next door.’