Fred was lying, half on his side, half on his stomach, stretched across the floor. A small printer was upended beside him.
‘Mr Fitzpatrick!’ cried Abbey. ‘Fred? Are you all right?’ The question was instinctive. She already knew that he was in big trouble.
She dropped to her knees and rolled him on to his back. His eyes were closed. Her first priority was to see if he was breathing. He wasn’t. Nor could she find a pulse.
‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
She grabbed the phone from the desk and, kneeling beside Fred’s prone body, dialled 911. There was the sound of an unconnected number. She looked at the phone in anger. ‘Nine one one,’ she said out loud. ‘Emergency. Come on!’ And then she remembered that some countries used 999 as an emergency code.
This time her call was answered straight away. She told the dispatcher that Fred was unconscious and not breathing. The dispatcher asked if she could do CPR, and Abbey, giving thanks to Ellen, who had taught her, said she could.
‘The ambulance is on its way,’ said the dispatcher. ‘It should be with you very shortly.’
Abbey placed her hands on Fred’s body and began chest compressions, counting in her head, keeping the rhythm even. But she was horribly afraid that they weren’t having any effect.
‘Come on, Mr Fitzpatrick,’ she muttered. ‘Come on, Fred.’
She glanced up. Directly opposite her, on the wall, was a painting of a large rock in a stormy sea, lit by a shaft of sunlight spearing through the dark clouds.
‘Be strong,’ she urged Fred. ‘Like the rock. Please.’
She continued with the CPR until she heard the siren of the ambulance on the street outside. She pressed the button for the gate and the paramedics hurried into the office, where Fred was still prostrate and unresponsive. They immediately took over from her, and, after she’d quickly told them how she’d found Fred, asked her to wait outside.
Abbey’s knees were like jelly. She sat on the floor of the hallway, her back against the wall and her legs bent. She listened to the sounds from Fred’s office, where the paramedics were continuing their attempts to revive him, and felt sick. She leaned her head on her knees and closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. It wouldn’t do any good for her to faint now and be another emergency for the ambulance crew to deal with. She took a few deep breaths and then got slowly to her feet.
She wasn’t the right person to be here, not when his life was at stake. It should be someone close to him. Someone from his family. But she didn’t know any of his family and they didn’t know her. Her hands were shaking as she opened her purse and took out Ryan Gilligan’s business card. She dialled the number, which seemed to ring for ages before he answered, sounding tired and vague.
‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘Abbey Andersen.’
‘Abbey!’ This time he was more alert. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Um … no, not exactly.’ She told him what had happened and was met with a shocked silence. ‘Are you still there?’ she asked.
‘Yes, yes, of course. What’s happening now?’
‘They’re continuing to work on him,’ she said. ‘But … I don’t know … he was in a bad way, Ryan. I kept on and on with the CPR and it wasn’t having any effect, and I don’t know how long they can keep trying.’ She began to cry.
‘Oh, don’t cry, don’t get upset.’ Ryan’s voice was concerned. ‘I’ll get to you as quick as I can.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Please hurry. I don’t know what to tell them if …’
‘I’ll phone my colleague Alex and get him to alert the family,’ said Ryan. ‘He’s Fred’s solicitor and they all know him.’
‘OK,’ she said, and sank back to the floor again.
Through the closed door of the office she heard the sound of a defibrillator being used. She felt herself tense even more, praying that it would work.
Oh Fred, she thought. Don’t give up now. Not when you haven’t properly talked to me about anything. Not when I could have told you everything you wanted to know about Mom. Stick with it, please.
The door to the office opened and one of the paramedics came out.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘How is he?’
The paramedic’s face was calm. ‘Unresponsive,’ he said.
‘Unresponsive?’ Abbey stared at him. ‘That means nothing’s working, doesn’t it?’
She could tell that the paramedic was choosing his words with care. ‘He isn’t responding to our efforts,’ he said.
‘He’s dead?’
‘We’re continuing our efforts to revive him.’
But they’d been working on Fred for over half an hour, thought Abbey, and unresponsive wasn’t a good result.
The buzzer sounded, and this time Abbey went down the steps to open the gate. Ryan Gilligan looked at her paper-white face, concern in his eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘But poor Mr Fitzpatrick …’ She bit her lip. ‘I should have gone to find out what was wrong sooner. Maybe if I had …’ Suddenly the tears that hadn’t fallen before slid down her cheeks and she sniffed loudly. ‘God, I’m sorry. I …’
‘This isn’t your fault.’ Ryan put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. ‘I’m sure you did your best, and you never know, miracles can happen, he could be all right.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Not this time. He … he …’
Just then a blue Ford pulled up outside the door and a middle-aged man with a doctor’s bag got out.
‘I’m Mr Fitzpatrick’s family doctor,’ he said. ‘Alan Casey.’
‘The paramedics are with him now,’ said Abbey.
Dr Casey hurried past her, up the steps and into the house. Abbey and Ryan stayed outside. He continued to hold her and she leaned against his shoulder, suddenly dizzy again.
‘Come back to the house,’ said Ryan. ‘You need to sit down.’
Even though the sun was warm on her shoulders, Abbey was shivering. Ryan led her into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
‘I’ll make tea,’ he said. ‘For shock.’
‘Mr Fitzpatrick was going to make tea for me,’ said Abbey. ‘I asked for coffee instead. I shouldn’t have let him make anything. I should’ve been the one to make it. He was an old man.’
‘You were a guest in his home,’ said Ryan gently. ‘He wouldn’t have wanted you making coffee for him.’
‘We’re talking as though he’s died.’ Abbey’s teeth chattered. ‘And I think he has, Ryan. I think he was already dead when I started doing CPR on him.’
‘Look, they can do amazing things these days,’ said Ryan. ‘You hear about it all the time. Please don’t worry.’
Why was it, she wondered, that people always told you not to worry at exactly the time you needed to worry most? She picked up the mug that Ryan had put in front of her and looked at him apologetically.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t drink this,’ she said. ‘It’s got milk in it.’
‘It’s good for you,’ he said.
‘It’s really not.’ She put the cup back on the table and sighed. ‘I’m nothing but trouble. I’ve been nothing but trouble ever since you met me.’
‘Of course you’re not trouble,’ said Ryan, as Dr Casey walked into the kitchen.
‘How is he?’ Ryan asked.
‘I’m afraid there was nothing anyone could do,’ said Dr Casey.
Abbey stifled a sob, and Ryan put his arm around her.
‘I’ve spoken to the paramedics and to Donald Fitzpatrick, Fred’s elder son,’ continued the doctor. ‘He’s on the way here now. There’s no need for Fred to be taken to hospital and Donald says that his father would have wanted to be here.’
‘But I can’t be here.’ Abbey looked horrified. ‘He can’t see me. He doesn’t even know me.’
Dr Casey looked at her with interest. ‘And you are?’
‘It
’s a complicated situation,’ said Ryan.
‘I need to wait until Donald arrives,’ said the doctor. ‘I have time for you to explain it to me. You were the last person to see Mr Fitzpatrick alive, and—’
‘You’re surely not suggesting that she had anything to do with his death!’ Ryan looked at the doctor in astonishment.
‘Of course not,’ said Dr Casey. ‘According to the paramedics, she did a good job on him before they arrived. But I’d like a little more detail about what happened before I certify the death.’
Feeling that she should make a recording of it, because she was sure this wasn’t going to be the last time she told the story, Abbey gave Dr Casey an account of Fred’s last minutes.
‘You acted with great presence of mind,’ he said. ‘Fred had been suffering from heart problems – he’d been to see me a few days ago. Sometimes the heart has just had enough.’ He gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I’ll tell the paramedics that they can leave.’
‘OK,’ said Abbey. She watched the doctor as he walked out of the room. She and Ryan sat silently while the medical people talked to each other. Abbey was acutely aware that Fred was still in his office.
‘Something should be done for him before his son gets here,’ she said. ‘He won’t want to see him … Well, we should move him.’
‘I’ll speak to the doctor.’
Ryan got up and left Abbey sitting alone. She closed her eyes and pictured Fred as she’d last seen him alive. An old man, a touch infirm, but alert all the same. She couldn’t help wondering if it was because of her that his heart had suddenly had enough. If the tension and excitement of looking for Ellen and then Abbey’s own visit had been too much for him.
Her eyes were still closed when Ryan returned.
‘The doctor and I moved him to a bedroom,’ he said. ‘You were right. I wouldn’t have liked Donald to see him on the floor like that.’
‘I should go,’ Abbey said.
‘They’re going to have to meet you,’ Ryan told her. ‘You might as well stay.’
‘But they’ll be in shock!’ cried Abbey. ‘Meeting me will only make things worse.’
‘You were there when he died.’
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
‘They’ll know that. The doctor knows. I told him all about you.’
‘I guess he thinks it’s not surprising that Mr Fitzpatrick had a heart attack.’
‘I don’t think it was because of you, Abbey.’ Ryan’s words were consoling. ‘From what I gather, he’d had bypass surgery before. His time had come, that’s all.’
Her mother had said that to her when her Gramma and Gramps had died. That their time had come. Of course, thought Abbey suddenly, they weren’t her real grandparents. Fred Fitzpatrick was. And now he was gone too.
‘You were great.’ Ryan squeezed her arm. ‘Calling the emergency services, doing CPR . . . So don’t worry, everything will be fine. And you’ll be grand,’ he added.
You’ll be grand. She smiled slightly at the expression, which sounded as though it had come from one of the old black-and-white movies about Ireland that her grandmother had occasionally watched. Where everyone said things like ‘grand’ and ‘begorrah’ and ‘top of the morning’. Until now, she hadn’t heard a real person use any of those phrases, but Abbey liked hearing ‘grand’ the way Ryan said it. With a totally different meaning to the way she’d use it. But she knew what he meant. That she’d be all right. It was just that ‘grand’ sounded a much, much better way to be.
Chapter 17
In her party-ready house, Zoey scrolled to the playlist of hits from the eighties that she’d made, and set her phone into the dock. (Not that she remembered any of the actual songs, but she thought it would be nice to have music from the decade she was born.) Donald would certainly remember them. In fact they’d pretty much be his era. She grinned as she thought of Donald moving and shaking to the sounds of George Michael in his Wham! years. Although she rather thought her husband had been a Madonna fan. She knew he had a greatest hits CD gathering dust somewhere. Despite having an early generation iPod, Donald preferred to listen to music on CDs. He thought they were more authentic than downloads, something that made her grin and call him ‘old man’ with amused affection.
She was moving a set of balloons from one side of the room to the other when she heard his key in the door. She felt a rush of love for him. It was good of him to come home early on the day of her party. No matter how irritating he could be sometimes about her ability to spend money on fun things, he always embraced whatever she’d organised.
‘Oh my God.’ He strode into the room and looked around.
‘Like it?’ she asked, linking her arm to his. ‘It’s going to be a brilliant evening.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Zoey.’
‘What?’ She removed her arm and looked at him. ‘What’s the matter?’
When he told her about Fred, she immediately put her arms around him and held him tight.
‘Oh Donald, how awful. Poor Fred. What happened?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Donald. ‘Alex didn’t go into details, but Dr Casey is still at the house and he’ll fill me in.’
‘Why was Alex Shannon at Fred’s?’ Zoey raised her head from his shoulder.
‘I don’t know. I was a bit shocked. I didn’t think to ask.’
‘It seems odd,’ said Zoey as she released her hold on him. ‘That your dad would be visited by his solicitor at home.’
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Donald looked pensive. ‘We’ll know soon enough. You’d better get changed.’
‘Why do I need to come?’ Her voice was a squeak. ‘I don’t want to see Fred … dead.’
‘Of course you’re coming,’ said Donald. ‘We all have to be there. Gareth and Lisette are on their way already.’
‘What about my party?’ asked Zoey.
‘Zoey! You can’t possibly have a party. Not now.’
Zoey had known from the moment Donald had told her about Fred that she wouldn’t be having a party. But she couldn’t help feeling peeved that Fred had chosen today, of all days, to kick the bucket.
‘I’m sorry, I know. What I meant was that I’ll have to contact people to tell them it’s off. It’d be better if I did it from here, wouldn’t it?’
Donald considered for a moment, then shook his head.
‘I need you with me,’ he said. ‘You can contact people from the car.’
Zoey knew that arguing with Donald was futile. Besides, he had a point. They couldn’t let Gareth and Lisette be the ones to take over. Donald was the eldest, and as his wife she had a certain position in the family. He was right. The party wasn’t as important as taking charge.
‘No question.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’ll find something more appropriate to wear and then we’ll go.’
They arrived at exactly the same time as Gareth and Lisette, who’d had to arrange for a neighbour to look after Jerome and Fleur. The four of them embraced and then Donald opened the gate and they walked up the steps to the house.
Dr Casey was at the door to greet them, telling them that he was sorry for their loss but that for Fred it had been mercifully quick. He led them into the bedroom where he and Ryan had brought Fred. Lisette muffled a sob, while Zoey tried not to look at the immobile body of her late father-in-law. Then Lisette stepped forward and kissed him on the forehead, an act that was copied by both Donald and Gareth. Zoey hung back until the last minute before leaning towards Fred, allowing her lips to hover for a moment above his head without actually touching it.
They stood in silence, the two brothers either side of the bed and their wives at its foot. Zoey positioned herself behind her sister-in-law so that her view of Fred was partially blocked. She could feel her phone vibrating in the pocket of her jacket and she knew it was from responses to the message she’d sent out to everyone telling them about Fred’s death. She’d seen a few of the replies before she and Donald had arrived at the house –
one of the messages had been accompanied by a glum emoticon. It wasn’t clear if the sender was sorry that Fred had died or because the party had been cancelled.
Oh well, she thought, he had to die sooner or later. At least he had the decency not to peg out at the party itself. That would’ve been spectacularly awful.
Lisette was thinking of the last time she’d seen Fred. It had been two days previously and the old man had been in great form, excited about something but not telling her what. She’d thought he looked younger and more animated than he’d appeared for ages.
‘You’ll see,’ he’d told her. ‘I’ll surprise you yet.’
She’d said that she hoped it would be a happy surprise and he said that it was for him. Now she wondered what it might have been. And if it mattered any more.
‘Did you call Suzanne?’ she murmured. Both Donald and Gareth looked shocked at the sound of her words. Then they glanced at each other.
‘I didn’t,’ said Gareth.
‘Bugger,’ said Donald. ‘Neither did I.’
‘One of you’d better,’ said Zoey.
‘Stay with him a little longer.’ Donald moved away from the bedside. ‘I’ll phone her now.’
As he walked out of the room, Donald could feel himself growing into the role as head of the family already.
There was a hum of conversation coming from the kitchen. Dr Casey, he presumed, and maybe Alex. He needed to talk to them and find out exactly how his father had died. Zoey’s question about the solicitor’s presence in the house was bothering him. As far as he knew, Fred had always visited Alex in his offices. Why had he called him to the house this time? Because he was feeling suddenly unwell? Because he needed immediate legal advice?
Donald stood outside the bedroom, vacillating between phoning his sister and talking to the people who had been the last to see his father. What the hell, he thought. Another few minutes wouldn’t matter to Suzanne. And if he talked to the doctor and solicitor now, he might have more information to give her.
He strode across the hallway and into the kitchen, stopping abruptly at the doorway.
Alex and Dr Casey were standing together, drinking coffee. And sitting at the table were two people Donald had never seen before in his life. A young couple, the man tall and slightly tanned, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, the woman pale and fair-haired, an anxious expression on her face. Donald stared at her. Because he recognised the blonde stranger, even though he’d never seen her before in his life.
Things We Never Say Page 16