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Удивительная книга. Как никогда актуальна сегодня. Язык и стиль автора настолько тонок, лёгок и изыскан, что легко поведёт читателя в мир героев, кото...
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Kathleen Tessaro 3-Book Collection: The Flirt, The Debutante, The Perfume Collector
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‘Where is he?’
‘Near the window’ He took her arm, leading her onto the ward.
They stopped in front of the bed. Juan gently pulled back the curtain. Leo was asleep, a drip in his arm. Monitors beeped reassuringly but his breathing was laboured, skin pale and forehead damp. His legs looked like two sticks under the sheets.
‘When did you find him?’
‘This afternoon. He’d fallen. Luckily I had a set of keys. Usually, I check on him twice a day.’
‘I see.’
He’d been his carer, not his lover. Leticia felt sobered, ashamed. Leo had needed a nurse and she hadn’t even realized.
‘I called an ambulance. He’s got pneumonia and a bad kidney infection. They’re giving him high doses of antibiotics.’
‘But how? How did it come on so fast?’
‘When the system is weak to begin with …’ his voice trailed off.
‘He was sick before? I mean really sick, not just a cold?’
Juan was silent.
‘He was sick before,’ she said again, remembering the prescription bottles.
‘Yes. He has been unwell for a while.’
How could she not know?
She touched his hand. It was clammy. ‘These blankets aren’t warm enough. Look at how thin they are!’
‘He has a fever. Too many and he will only kick them off.’ He smiled. He had a nice smile. ‘You know Leo.’
He offered her a chair. ‘I’ll get you a cup of tea. With sugar. You’ve had a shock.’
She watched as he headed down the hall then looked round. The ward was filled with other old people, dying, alone. Terror gripped her.
Leticia sat down and took his hand again.
His eyes flicked open.
‘Emily Ann!’
She squeezed his fingertips.
‘Here I am.’
‘Emily!’
‘It’s all right, I’m right here.’
His voice was hoarse. ‘I … I must tell you something …’
‘Yes?’ she leant in.
‘That look doesn’t suit you, darling.’
He smiled.
She kissed his fingertips. ‘Neither does yours.’
He closed his eyes again. ‘It seems we’ve let ourselves go.’
He slipped back into the thick fog of sleep.
His hand went limp in hers.
She was alone.
The C Word (#ulink_f0ba9067-9f1f-537d-a3ed-635bdf712caf)
‘I can’t. Not today, Simon.’
Olivia was sitting on her bed, still in her dressing gown, dark circles under her eyes. Somewhere around four thirty in the morning she finally nodded off, only to wake again in tears. She must’ve been crying in her sleep. Once they started, she couldn’t stem the flow. Sobbing, moaning, practically barking with grief and despair, she worked her way through an entire box of tissues. There was nothing to live for. She was old and childless and alone.
Then, at some ungodly hour, Simon rang.
‘You can!’
‘No,’ she cleared her throat, ‘really, I can’t!’
‘I’m telling you, Olivia, you can!’
‘But you don’t understand! I’ve never hung a show before! And I’m … I’m,’ she struggled to find a delicate way to put it, ‘I’m not at my best today, Simon.’
‘Olivia,’ his voice was firm, ‘I need you. Ralph’s pulled his back out and it’s not finished! And we can’t afford to get this show wrong. Besides, you’re the only person I know who has the vision I need. It’s non-negotiable; I’m calling in all my favours. I need you now!’
Olivia sank to the floor, into the pile of used tissues that had accumulated in a snowy heap around the bed. She couldn’t fathom how she was going to get dressed let alone down to the gallery.
‘Olivia?’ He wouldn’t give up.
‘OK,’ she rasped.
‘Great. I’ll see you in an hour.’
He hung up.
Olivia blew her nose for the seven thousandth time. She badly needed a cigarette.
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Удивительная книга. Как никогда актуальна сегодня. Язык и стиль автора настолько тонок, лёгок и изыскан, что легко поведёт читателя в мир героев, кото...
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