13September2024 Diary
I watched the lights dim in a private ward of a highend London clinic, where a young woman lay drifting between life and death. The nurses moved around her as if any rustle might disturb the very spirit of dying. Their eyes flicked repeatedly to the monitors, the faint beeps the only sign that her heart still clung to the world. It became painfully clear that no amount of cash could coax a soul back from the other side.
In the adjoining office, a tense meeting unfolded. Around a heavy oak table sat surgeons in immaculate white coats, the room halflit and heavy with unspoken judgment. At the head of the table was her husband, David Archer a sharply dressed businessman with a gleaming watch and a haircut that could have been plucked from a brochure. The young trainee, Dr. Charles Whitaker, was practically on fire: he hammered his case for an operation with the fervour of a man whod never seen a patient turned away.
This ointment costs pennies, but itll keep her legs for a week! he snapped, thumping his pen on the desk.
Not all is lost! We can save her! he shouted, voice cracking against the sterile walls.
David rose, his voice low but theatrical. Im not a surgeon, but I am Evelyns closest person, he began, his grief sounding rehearsed. Therefore I am utterly opposed to any operation. Why subject her to more torment? It will only stretch the agony. A tear slipped down the cheek of the senior consultant, who could not conceal his own disappointment.
The chief hesitantly muttered, You may be wrong, but Charles leapt to his feet, anger shaking his tone. Do you realise youre robbing her of a final chance?
David, as unyielding as a stone, replied, The operation will not go ahead. I will sign any refusal. He did so with a swift flourish of his pen, sealing Evelyns fate with a single line.
Only a few understood the cruelty behind his decision, though the motives were glaring. Davids fortunes had been built on Evelyns connections, intellect and capital. Now, with her teetering on the brink, he imagined the day he could steer her empire without her. Her death suited him, and he made no secret of it to anyone who might expose his scheme.
He slipped a gift to the chief surgeon an irresistible bribe ensuring the operation stayed cancelled. Meanwhile, he had already earmarked a plot in the Brighton cemetery for his living wife.
A fine plot, he mused, strolling among gravestones as if he were a real estate broker. Dry ground, a gentle rise perfect for Evelyn to watch the sea from above.
The cemetery keeper, a weathered man named Ian Vaughan, raised his eyebrows. When do you plan to bring the body?
Not yet, David replied coolly. Shes still in the hospital, fighting.
Ian swallowed, bewildered. Youve chosen a spot for a living person?
Not to bury her alive, of course, David snorted. Im just convinced shell be gone soon enough.
There was no point arguing. David was in a hurry a holiday in Cornwall with his longlegged lover, Sophie Blake, awaited. He imagined returning just in time for a funeral, a macabre triumph.
He settled into his Jaguar XJ, thinking, Perfect plan Ill be back, the burial will be ready, and Ill be free.
All paperwork was signed, the fee paid, and the cemetery keeper had no grounds to protest.
Back in the ward, Evelyn clung to life. She felt her strength ebbing, yet refused to surrender. Young, beautiful, hungry for more years how could she simply slip away? The doctors, however, kept their heads down, eyes averted; to them she was already a dead leaf.
The lone voice still championing her cause was Dr. Charles Whitaker. He persisted despite friction with the department head, whose son a senior consultant often swayed the chiefs decisions.
An unexpected ally emerged: Ian Vaughan, the caretaker. Something about the burial paperwork nagged at him; the maiden name on the documents was familiar. It turned out to be his former pupil, Margaret Bell, the brightest student in his class, who had lost her parents years earlier and risen to become a successful entrepreneur. Now her name appeared on a death plot.
What a sick turn of events, Ian muttered, recalling Davids smug grin. The husbands wealth had been built on Margarets brilliance, and now he wanted to bury her alive. The injustice gnawed at him, and he set off for the clinic.
He tried to speak with Evelyn but was turned away by a weary nurse. Shes in a druginduced coma. Best not to disturb her.
He pressed on, asking the ward manager if she was receiving full care. Shes young, she deserves everything we can give, he implored, only to be met with the same rehearsed line: Shes hopeless, but were doing all we can. Frustrated, Ian left, fighting back tears as he recalled Margarets onceradiant smile.
At the exit, Dr. Whitaker caught up with him. I agree with you, Ian. She can be saved, but we need decisive action.
Together they recalled a former student now high up in the NHS hierarchy Dr. Roman Vickers. Ian called him, pleading, Your influence could decide this womans fate.
Vickers laughed, Ian, you old fool, youre the reason Im here! He dialed the chief surgeon straightaway.
The call changed everything. Within hours, the board reversed its stance, and Evelyn was rushed to surgery. The scalpel saved her, pulling her back from the brink.
Meanwhile, David lounged on a sunsplashed Cornish beach, reveling in his scheming. Brilliant, he thought, Ive hooked a rich widow while her parents were gone, helped with the funeral, and now Im sitting on her money. Yet his conscience dimmed as Evelyn began to suspect his infidelities. The illness became a convenient gift, freeing him from marital ties. He mused, Never marry a clever woman again. Better a daft beauty you can lead by the nose.
A nurses call shattered his holiday. Mr Archer, your wife has undergone surgery and is out of danger.
How can she be out of danger?! he roared, drawing puzzled looks from sunbathers.
Realising his own peril, he hastily packed his bags.
Back home, he demanded answers from the chief. We paid to have her die, and you saved her! The surgeons shrugged, Were not alone. Someone higher up pulled the strings.
The blame fell on Dr. Whitaker, who was dismissed, his reputation in tatters. Ian offered him a job at the cemetery, Better than sinking further. Whitaker accepted, his career in medicine effectively over.
Evelyn recovered slowly, each day regaining strength. The death that loomed over her receded, but the real battle lay ahead. Her husbands coldness grew; colleagues kept their distance, whispering behind closed doors. The chief accountant finally broke down: Evelyn, the company is in shambles because David has taken over. We need you back, or everything will crumble.
She tried to reassure them, Ill get well soon, hold on, and dont let him see any weakness. Yet only two people stood by her: Ian Vaughan, the cemetery keeper and former teacher, and Dr. Whitaker, the oncedismissed surgeon.
David, feeling threatened, bribed the remaining staff to bar Ian and Whitaker from the hospital. He plotted to declare Evelyn incompetent, hoping to wrest control of her empire.
When Ian realised he could no longer reach her, he recalled his old pupil now a health minister. He dismissed the thought of pestering again, trusting that Evelyns health would turn the tide.
Whitaker, now halfburialground attendant, warned Ian, If we wait too long, itll be too late. Shes surrounded by enemies.
Evelyn sensed the danger from her bedside, aware that David was gathering papers to render her legally incapable. He had already stopped visiting after she began asking uncomfortable questions. Your meds are too strong, he said coldly, sealing his intent to portray her as helpless.
The medical staff stayed silent, shrugging at every query. Evelyn, still weak, could not yet mount resistance.
One day, at a funeral for a local businessman, Whitaker, stationed at the back, saw the supposedly dead mans wrist pulse flicker. He lunged, grabbed the wrist, and shouted, Clear the way! Get an ambulance! The crowd erupted, but the paramedics arrived in time to save the man, who turned out to be the chief shareholder of Evelyns firm. Grateful, he called Whitaker, You saved my life, and I know who youre fighting for. He promptly reinstated Evelyn to the helm of the company, ousting David and his lover from any power.
The corrupt head surgeon and department chief were dismissed, their licences revoked. Whitaker was offered a chance to return to medicine, but Evelyn, now rebuilding, founded a private health centre and appointed him its director. Their professional partnership blossomed into a genuine affection. Six months later we married, with Ian Vaughan standing as the most honoured guest, the man who had once tended graves and now tended our future.
A year on, we share the joy of expecting our first child. Hope the little one wont give grandpa a hard time, Ian joked at the baby shower, his eyes twinkling.
Looking back, I see how greed can blind a man to the humanity he destroys, and how a handful of steadfast people can pull a life back from the edge. I have learned that true wealth lies not in the manipulation of others, but in the honesty of ones actions and the loyalty of those who stand by you.
