Invisible(57)
He gave Antonia a last wave before he left her trailer, and the baby nurse handed her the baby to feed. The doctor had told her she would have to stop nursing soon, or it could cause cramps and even a miscarriage, since she was pregnant again. She was going to stop in a few days, when they got back from the north border. It was easier to nurse Dash while they were on the road than switching him to bottles and formula. She looked down at him, nursing happily, and wondered what the new baby would be like, and if it would be a boy or a girl. She was happy she had told Hamish about it and he was excited too.
The scenes they shot that day went smoothly. There were no problems or incidents, and Hamish had called the set when he left Gatwick in the helicopter. He had them tell Antonia he’d be back in an hour and the meeting had gone well.
An hour later, she had changed into street clothes, and went back to the hotel with the nurse and the baby to wait for Hamish there. The food in the town they were shooting in was abysmal, and she wasn’t looking forward to another night of shepherd’s pie, but it was the only decent thing on the menu. She was getting hungry, and Hamish was late. It was two hours since Hamish had left Gatwick. They had probably been delayed taking off. It was a busy airport, though not as busy as Heathrow.
She had just finished nursing the baby again and handed him to the nurse to put down in the next room in the crib they had brought with them, when the second assistant director knocked at her door.
“Hi, Tom.” She smiled at him. “Hamish isn’t back yet. Is there a problem?” He stared at her as though he had seen a ghost and took a moment to answer. He didn’t know who else to tell what had happened.
“There’s been an accident,” he blurted out. He was deathly pale.
“Was there night shooting on the schedule for tonight?” She knew they weren’t shooting the stunts yet, until the insurance issues were settled.
“No…Hamish…the helicopter…they hit a flock of birds,” he said, as tears sprang to his eyes, and Antonia grabbed his arm with a look of terror.
“What are you saying?” she asked, out of breath. It reminded her of childbirth, but this was worse. “Hamish…is he okay? What happened?”
“The helicopter went down with a broken blade, they spun out and hit a cliff on the way down. Hamish and the pilot were killed. The police just called the office…oh God, I’m so sorry, Antonia.” He was sobbing and so was she, as she clung to him. She felt as though she’d fall over if she didn’t.
Word got out quickly and within minutes, the entire cast, both assistant directors, the sound and light men, and all the crew they had with them were pressing through the halls of the hotel. Somewhere in the distance, she heard her baby crying. People were hugging one another and sobbing. A few hours later one of the other producers flew up from London in another helicopter to give them the details and confirm the news.
The producer, who was one of Hamish’s associates, flew Antonia and the baby back to London, and the rest of the crew remained on location until they decided what to do. They would lose time and money if they shut the location shoot down and had to reschedule it. And Antonia had to make the arrangements. Hamish’s body had been recovered and was in a police morgue in the middle of England and had to be brought home.
Antonia felt as though she was moving underwater. She had no idea what to do. He had been smiling and happy that morning when he left, and excited about the new baby, and now tragedy had struck them. She kept thinking that it had to be a mistake. But it wasn’t.
The producer stayed with her that night, and faces came and went. Some she knew and some she didn’t. Policemen, people from the set, the baby nurse took care of the baby and Antonia didn’t nurse him. It was all a jumble of people and faces through the night and into the next day. And then suddenly Fred Warner was with her with his arms around her and she was sobbing, he was telling her it was going to be okay, but how could it ever be okay again?
Somehow, Hamish’s associates organized what had to be done. The location shoot had to continue or it would cost too much money to do again. The actors on location had to rally, and the crew. They’d gotten approval for the stunts, and the second director had taken charge of the scenes that remained to be shot.
Arrangements had to be made for Hamish’s funeral. That was Antonia’s job and Fred helped her. She called Lara, who flew over. Jake was in San Francisco because his father was sick after surgery, so he couldn’t come. Somehow she muddled through, and four days later she was standing in a church she’d never been in before, wearing a black suit and a hat that Brigid and Margaret had bought for her. Hundreds of people came. People spoke about Hamish. His two brothers, whom she hardly knew, were there. A minister who didn’t know him performed the service and gave a eulogy. The paparazzi were there, being held back by the police. It was all a blur, and afterward Antonia couldn’t remember any of it, and wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. They were the worst days of her life. Hamish was gone, and she still couldn’t understand that he wasn’t coming back. She was waiting for him to come home, and it just wasn’t possible that he wasn’t going to. The world had come to an end, and everything in it had come to an end for Antonia. They had had the perfect life for almost three years, and now it was over. He was forty-seven years old. It just wasn’t possible that he was dead.