He had been willing Luisa to have regained consciousness when he got back; to be sitting up, the terrifying bluish tinge gone, saying she had stumbled and fallen, briefly knocking herself out. But she was lying exactly as Michael had found her. He spread the blankets over her and sat down on the floor, reaching for her hand.
Call her out of unconsciousness, the emergency service had said, and the inevitable comparison rose up – that of the cataleptic Madeline Usher, about to be entombed alive, but her mind awake and silently pleading for someone to call her out of her dreadful paralysis.
To dispel this grisly image, Michael said, ‘Miss Gilmore? Luisa? Can you hear me? Try to stay awake – you’ve fallen, but you’re all right, and the ambulance is on the way.’
Did a faint flicker of awareness cross her face? Michael could not be sure, but he thought there was a belief that hearing could remain when other senses were dormant, so he said, ‘I’ll stay with you, but if you can open your eyes—’ Still nothing. ‘Or if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.’ Was there the faintest tremor of movement from the thin fingers?
He leaned back slightly, looking around the room. The stone floor and walls gave it the feel of a dungeon, but the presence of the prie-dieu and the altar-table with the crucifix, together with the desk, made it more the retreat of some religious scholar. He was just wondering if he could reach one of the candles and manage to light it, when he felt Luisa’s fingers curl round his. He looked back at her at once. Her eyes were open and she was looking at him.
‘You’re quite all right,’ said Michael very clearly. ‘But I’ve phoned for an ambulance, and it’s on the way. Are you in any pain anywhere?’
Her free hand came up to tap the left side of her chest significantly.
‘Heart?’ said Michael. ‘Angina?’ There was a faint nod, and remembering that one or two of the older dons at Oriel had angina, he said, ‘Do you have a spray? Tell me where it is and I’ll get it.’
‘No use.’ The words came on a ragged breath of sound.
‘But—’
Her hand clutched his, and Michael took it in both of his hands, trying to infuse it with warmth.
Luisa said, ‘Stephen—’ Her eyes looked beyond Michael to the corners of the room and distended with fear. Involuntarily, Michael looked over his shoulder, but nothing stirred.
‘There’s no one here,’ he said. ‘Stephen isn’t here. You’re quite safe.’ Her eyelids fluttered, and Michael said urgently, ‘Luisa, stay awake. You must stay awake. The ambulance won’t be long.’ Oh God, let that be true, he thought, and as if on cue, he heard sounds above – a door being opened, loud footsteps, and a man’s voice calling that he was the paramedic and asking where they were.
‘Down here,’ called Michael, releasing Luisa’s hand and going halfway up the stairs.
‘Good God, what on earth is this place?’ said the paramedic, coming down the stairs, his green emergency bag banging against the wall. But he was already kneeling down, his hands moving with professional assurance over Luisa, then opening the bag to take out stethoscope and pieces of equipment that Michael thought were heart monitors.
‘Miss Gilmore – can you hear me? Are you in any pain?’
‘She indicated her heart,’ said Michael. ‘When I said was it angina, she said yes.’
‘Does she have a spray?’
‘I asked her that, but she said it was no use and I couldn’t get her to say where it was. I don’t even know where her bedroom is and I didn’t want to leave her to search for it— And you were on the way—’ Damn, he thought, I’m sounding indecisive and altogether useless.
But the paramedic merely said, ‘You made the right decision. Miss Gilmore, I’m going to make a few quick checks.’ There was a brief interval of beeping machines and some sort of computer result. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘It looks like an MI, I’m afraid. Myocardial infarct – heart attack in plain terms. Impossible to know if she had the attack then fell, or if the fall brought it on. But we’ll worry about any other injuries when we get her into hospital.’ He produced a syringe and rolled back Luisa’s sleeve. ‘This is what they call a clot-buster,’ he said. ‘We have to be careful about giving this to anyone who’s had one previously, but I think it’s all right – I’d remember if we’d been called out to her in the last year, and I’m fairly sure we haven’t.’
‘One of the advantages of a small community,’ said Michael.
‘It is. I’ll give her nitroglycerine as well, then we’ll get her to the cardiac unit.’
‘How?’ said Michael, in dismay as the man opened his bag again and took out a phial and a fresh syringe. ‘The fallen tree—’
‘They’ll airlift her,’ said the man, administering the injection. He reached for his phone and tapped out a number. ‘We often have to do it out here.’ He spoke into the phone, then nodded, apparently satisfied. ‘Ten to fifteen minutes before they reach us,’ he said. ‘It’s a good service, and the helicopter can land in the field just beyond the main walls I should think. In the meantime, if you’ll help me to carry her up the stairs, we can be ready in the hall.’
A thin spiteful rain was beating against the windows when they got Luisa into the hall, and when Michael opened the main front door the helicopter was already approaching, its propeller sounding like massive leathery wings beating on the night sky. The lights sliced through the dusk like pale, glaring eyes, and the scene began to take on a surreal quality.