The Tea Rose by Donnelly Jennifer

Author:Donnelly, Jennifer [Donnelly, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780312378028
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2007-12-10T21:46:51+00:00

FIONA TOOK THE STAIRS at 24 Sixteenth Street two at a time. All thoughts of tea and tearooms were gone from her mind. She had only one thought now, only one fear-that she was going to lose her best friend in all the world.

In the cab they'd taken, Stevie told her that his mother had learned of Nick's illness just this afternoon. The rent was past due and she'd gone to see him about it. When no one answered the door, she'd let herself in. She'd found him in his bedroom. He was very sick.

"With what, Stevie?" Fiona had asked, terrified of his answer.

"I don't know. My ma didn't say. She wouldn't let me go into him. She's awful scared of the cholera. She found a notebook on his table though. Your address was in it and his doctor's. She sent me after you my brother after the doctor."

I should never have listened to him, Fiona thought, racing up the steps. He wasn't well. I knew he wasn't. I should never have believed rubbishy explanations. She got to the door, Stevie on her heels, and knob. It didn't budge, the door was locked. "The key, Stevie," she said voice trembling. "Where's the key?"

"Ma!" he shouted up the stairwell. "Ma, I've got Miss Finnegan. She needs the key."

Fiona heard footsteps on the landing above her, and then a tall woman in her forties, plain and rawboned and wearing a faded calico dress came down the stairs toward her.

"Have you got the key?" Fiona asked her urgently.

"You're Miss Finnegan?"

“Yes.”

'Tm Mrs. Mackie ... "

"I need the key," Fiona said, her voice rising.

"Yes, yes, of course," Mrs. Mackie said, flustered. She dug in one pocket then the other. "He was calling for you. I don't know how long he 's been like this. Some days, I think-"

"The key!" Fiona shouted.

"Here," she said, holding it out. Fiona snatched it, then jammed in the lock. "He's very bad, miss." Mrs. Mackie said, agitated. "I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. It's not a sight for a young lady and God only knows what it is he has."

Fiona opened the door and ran inside, leaving Mrs. Mackie in the doorway. The flat was dark, the curtains were drawn, but she knew the way. She'd been there before. "Nick?" she shouted, running through the foyer down the hallway, past the kitchen, into a double parlor and out again another hallway past a bathroom to his bedroom. "Nick?" she called but there was still no answer. "Please, God, please let him be all right,” she whispered."Please."

A powerful, wrenching stench hit her as she opened the door of room-the smell of sweat and sickness and something else, something low and black and fearfully familiar-the smell of despair. "Nick?" she whispered, rushing to him. "It's me, Fiona."

He was lying in his bed, a large ebony four-poster, wearing only his trousers, which were wet with urine. He was still and looked as white and bloodless as the sweat-soaked sheets underneath him.

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