‘I prefer to pay for services rendered,’ Roel had drawled and he had made her feel horribly like a hooker. ‘That way there’s no misunderstanding.’
Mid-morning the following day, Dr Lerther strove to conceal his surprise when his secretary ushered in Roel Sabatino’s wife, Hilary. The tiny blonde woman whose anxiety was writ large in her bright grey eyes was in no way what he had expected.
‘I did try to phone before I left the UK but the operator couldn’t find the number for this place,’ Hilary confided in an explanatory rush.
She was very nervous. The last word in opulence, the hospital was like no other she had ever entered and she had had to advance considerable evidence of her identity before she’d even been allowed in. Her increasingly desperate requests just for word of Roel’s condition had been repeatedly met with polite but steely blankness. Baulked of her expectation that Roel’s aunt, Bautista, would be waiting to greet her and smooth her passage, she had been forced to introduce herself as Roel Sabatino’s wife. Having done so, she felt horribly dishonest but she was convinced that were she to tell the truth about their marriage, she would not even be allowed to visit Roel.
‘This is a private clinic and as our patients demand discretion and security, the number is not freely available.’ The grey-haired older man extended his hand. ‘I’m relieved that you were able to get here so quickly—’
Reading dire meaning into that assurance, Hilary turned pale as milk and gasped, ‘Roel?’
‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you. Physically, aside of a severe headache, your husband is suffering from nothing more than a few bruises.’ With a soothing smile the consultant swept her across his luxurious office into a seat. ‘However, his memory has not been so fortunate.’
The worst of her apprehension set to rest and weak with relief, Hilary sank down into the armchair and then looked puzzled. ‘His…er…memory?’
‘Mr Sabatino suffered a blow to the head and he was unconscious for some hours. A degree of disorientation is not unusual after such an episode…unfortunately, in this case, there seems to be some temporary impairment of the memory system.’
Alerted by the older man’s air of gravity, Hilary had become very still. ‘Meaning?’ she pressed, dry-mouthed.
‘A standard examination after he first recovered consciousness at the hospital revealed a discrepancy in his perception of dates—’
‘Dates?’ Hilary queried again.
‘Roel’s memory has misplaced what I estimate to be the past five years of his life. He himself was unaware that there was a problem until it was pointed out to him. He is fully in control of every aspect of his past as it was then, but all events since that time are a closed book to him.’
Hilary stared back at the older man in shaken disbelief. ‘Five whole…years? Are you certain of this?’
‘Of course. Mr Sabatino has no memory of the car crash either.’
‘But why has this happened to him?’ Hilary asked worriedly.
‘It is not that unusual for there to be a degree of memory loss as a result of a head injury but as a rule only very small spaces of time are involved. It is called retrograde amnesia. Occasionally emotional trauma or even stress may lead to such an episode but I think we may discount that possibility in this particular case,’ Dr Lerther opined with confidence. ‘It is almost certainly a temporary condition and within hours or even days what has been forgotten will be recalled either in parts or, indeed, all at once.’
‘How is Roel taking this?’ Hilary asked weakly.
‘Once your husband realised how much time his mind has effectively omitted from his recollection he was very shocked.’
‘I bet…’ Hilary was struggling to imagine how Roel, who took for granted that he should be one hundred per cent in control of himself and everything around him, would cope with a huge big spanner being thrown in the works.
‘Prior to that revelation, Mr Sabatino was on the brink of ignoring all medical advice and returning to his office,’ Dr Lerther admitted ruefully. ‘For a man of such strong character and intellect, indeed a man accustomed to wielding considerable power, an inexplicable event may be a very frustrating challenge to accept.’
An expression of profound dismay had set Hilary’s mobile features as she worked out the ramifications of the five years that the older man had chosen to describe as being simply, ‘misplaced’. ‘For goodness’ sake…Roel won’t even remember me!’
‘I was leading up to that point,’ the consultant asserted in a bracing tone. ‘But I’m most relieved that you’re here to give Mr Sabatino the support he needs to deal with this situation—’
Her brow had pleated. ‘Isn’t Roel’s aunt Bautista here too?’
‘I understand that the lady left the country this morning to attend a pressing social engagement,’ Dr Lerther advanced.
Astonished by that information, Hilary swallowed hard on an exclamation. So much for Auntie Bautista! Evidently there was little family affection to hope for from that quarter. Her own head was swimming with a mess of conflicting promptings. At first reassured by the news that Roel was not seriously hurt, she had been thrown right out of her depth when informed of his loss of memory. She tried to picture waking up to her own world as it had been five years earlier rather than as it was now. Even in trying to take fleeting account of all the many changes that had taken place since then in her life, she reached a more disturbing appreciation of just how disorientating Roel’s condition would be for him.
She was disgusted by his aunt’s uncaring attitude but not that surprised for she and her sister had once endured similar indifference from a close relative. She thought of the debt that she still felt she owed Roel and of how much she wanted to see him. In a purely disinterested and friendly way, she could be of help and support to him. It was an innately tantalising and seductive idea. But wouldn’t it be dishonest to pose as his real wife? She was his wedded wife in name but in no other way.
A quiver of shamed distaste at the concept of letting such a lie stand slivered through Hilary’s slight frame. However, she had promised Roel that she would never, ever reveal the true terms of their marriage to anybody and, to ease her conscience, she decided to tell a half-truth instead. ‘I should admit that Roel and I have been…er…estranged,’ she said awkwardly.
‘I thank you for your confidence and I assure you that what you have told me will go no further. But I must also ask you not to reveal any potentially distressing facts to my patient if you can avoid doing so,’ the older man emphasised with considerable gravity. ‘Although your husband will not acknowledge it, he is already under great stress and adding to that burden could endanger his full recovery.’
As that hard reality was spelt out to her Hilary lost colour and nodded in earnest understanding. From her lips, Roel would learn nothing that might upset him.
‘As Mr Sabatino’s wife, you are his next of kin and you may do what others may not for his benefit. He has countless employees; those he pays to do his bidding but mercifully you are in a much stronger position,’ Dr Lerther opined cheerfully. ‘Your husband needs to feel that he has someone close whom he can trust. Make no mistake. His present state makes him vulnerable.’
‘I can’t imagine Roel being vulnerable.’ Hilary’s throat was thick with tears and she could no longer meet the consultant’s kindly gaze. She was all too painfully aware that she too fell into the demeaning category of being someone whom Roel had once paid to carry out his wishes. But she was also devastated by the obvious fact that he should have nobody other than her available