Page 45 of The Unforgiven
“That’s very kind,” Gabe replied and took the biscuits. He was hungry himself, not having had time to grab anything before leaving London. He’d bought a cup of coffee at a petrol station, but hadn’t thought to grab a sandwich, which would have come in handy by dinnertime.
Gabe returned to his father’s room and handed the cup of tea to Phoebe, who accepted it gratefully.
“Would you like a chocolate biscuit?” He held the package out to her.
Phoebe took one and bit into it, chasing it with a sip of tea. “I hadn’t realized I was hungry,” she said, as if surprised that such a thing were even possible in the face of the day’s events.
“Mum, let me take you home. They’ll ring us if anything changes. You look exhausted,” Gabe suggested, though knew what she’d say.
Phoebe shook her head. “No, I can’t leave. You go on if you want. I’ll wait for the doctor.”
“I don’t think anyone will come till morning.”
Phoebe didn’t reply. She drank her tea and set the cup on a low plastic table. Her gaze never shifted from Graeme’s face, and her grim expression remained in place. She stayed that way for hours, until the patch of sky outside the window lightened to a deep gray and the stars began to fade in preparation for sunrise.
Gabe’s eyelids felt heavy from lack of sleep and his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime yesterday. He glanced at his watch and wondered if Emma was already up and running rings around Sylvia. He hoped Sylvia would make her a good breakfast. Emma didn’t like breakfast cereals or plain toast. Quinn always made her a hot breakfast before school, and Gabe had been trying to do the same, despite his very limited cooking abilities. He could manage a boiled egg and toast soldiers though, and instant porridge, which Emma liked with raisins and a spoonful of honey. Thinking about breakfast made Gabe even hungrier. He’d have to step out and get something soon.
He forgot all about food when Phoebe shifted, her head swiveling toward the door as if on cue. A young doctor entered the room, followed by a male nurse.
“Good morning. I’m Dr. Abigail Spencer,” the doctor said. “I’ll be Mr. Russell’s attending physician today.”
“What happened to Dr. Lorde?” Phoebe asked, clearly annoyed by the switch.
“Dr. Lorde is not on call today, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to do with me.”
Gabe glanced at his mother. She was probably thinking that Dr. Spencer looked too young to be anyone’s attending physician, but Phoebe wore the look of stoic acceptance she’d perfected over the years. The nurse checked the IV drip and emptied the bag attached to the catheter, while Dr. Spencer looked at the chart and checked Graeme Russell’s vital signs.
“I’ve consulted with Mr. Russell’s cardiologist, Dr. Nixon. He would have spoken to you himself, but he’s been called awayand he’s still not back. We’ve run a battery of tests, including an electrocardiogram, an echocardiogram, and a CT, as well as a full blood workup. Mrs. Russell, when was the last time your husband saw his GP?”
“About two months ago, I’d say.”
Dr. Spencer shook her head in amazement. “The tests show that Mr. Russell has suffered several minor cardiac events over the past year, usually a warning sign that a more severe attack is likely, which is what’s happened. Had Mr. Russell been experiencing any chest pains prior to this?”
Phoebe shook her head. “He’s been more tired of late, and complained of a pain in his neck a few days ago, but no chest pains.”
“Sometimes pain in the neck, back, or chest is indicative of a heart attack. Has he had any dizziness?”
“Not that he told me. How bad is it, Dr. Spencer?”
“Mrs. Russell, I don’t wish to frighten you, but yesterday’s event, coupled with previous undiagnosed attacks, inflicted considerable damage to the heart muscle. The next heart attack could be fatal.”
“So, what do we do?” Phoebe looked ashen, and Gabe put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
“Mr. Russell will remain under observation for the next few days. Once we feel it’s safe to release him, he will need to be on bed rest for at least a week, and then start to gradually resume his daily activities. Of course, modifications will need to be made to his medication and his diet, and physical activity will need to be restricted to short walks. If he has to climb stairs to get to the bedroom, perhaps it would be wise to set up a cot downstairs. Stress is to be avoided as much as possible. Do you have any questions?”
“Will you tell him?” Phoebe asked, jutting out her chin toward her husband. “He won’t listen to me.”
“Dr. Nixon will explain everything to Mr. Russell when he gets in this morning.”
“Will Graeme be alert when he wakes up?”
“Mr. Russell might be a bit woozy and irritable as a side effect of the medication, but that will pass. I will be back to check on him when he wakes.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Gabe said and watched Dr. Spencer walk away. “Mum, are you all right?”
“I’m frightened, Gabe,” Phoebe replied. “Your father has always been so strong, so indestructible. Seeing him like this…”
“I know. It’s very difficult.”
