Living With Marc by Jane Donnelly

Author:Jane Donnelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-06-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

‘CALL an ambulance.’ Marc’s voice, sharp and urgent, reached Robin through a mist.

‘He’s dead.’ She knew that and the horror of it paralysed her.

‘Robin, move.’ He was shouting at her now, but she couldn’t move, she couldn’t remember where the phone was, and then somehow she was stumbling to the little table in the hall, holding the phone in shaking fingers, trying to press 999.

When someone asked which emergency service she wanted she slmost said it was no use because he was dead. All she wanted to do was drop to the ground and howl, but she asked for ‘ambulance’ and she gave the address and she said, ‘A heart attack.’ And then she sat on the bottom of the stairs, rocking to and fro like a child.

She was useless. She had never felt as helpless before, but this was the nightmare she had always dreaded and perhaps in a little while she would be able to scream herself awake and it wouldn’t have happened.

Everything was blurred. She went to the doorway but she couldn’t look into the room, and then through the haze she saw that her uncle was now lying face up. Marc was kneeling beside him, mouth to mouth, and then pressing his chest. She wished she had the strength to crawl into the room and pick up her uncle’s limp hand, and when Marc moved away she would, because there could be no purpose in this ritual.

She prayed wordlessly, and when she heard the sound of the siren she thought for a moment that she was screaming.

Marc said, ‘That was quick.’

‘What’s the use?’ she moaned.

‘Open the door,’ he shouted, and she went towards it like a zombie.

Men pushed past her as she turned her face to the wall, her eyes closed. She heard voices she didn’t want to hear, Marc’s among them, quick and concise, and after a little while the men passed her again. They were taking him away now and she stopped her ears against that and cowered at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

‘Where are they taking him?’

She thought no words had come out, but Marc said, ‘To hospital. We’re following.’

‘But he’s—’ That would not come out. She could not say, Dead!

‘He’s in good hands. He stands a good chance.’

She couldn’t believe it. It was like a miracle. Hope flared in her but she had to contain it because hysteria could hit her next. Marc was handing her the skirt that she had stripped off before climbing in the bathroom window. She managed to step into it and pull it up but she couldn’t handle the zip; her fingers wouldn’t move together.

He zipped it up and straightened her skirt over the waistband. Then he put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Steady,’ he said.

She could only nod and take strength from him. He kept an arm around her as they went out to the car. By now a group of neighbours had gathered, realising what had happened, anxious to know more.

Marc

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