The Sin Eater(23)

‘Or does he take drugs of any kind, do you know?’ asked the younger one, who had come back with the portable ECG.

‘I don’t know anything about him,’ said Nell. ‘I’ve never met him before today. You’d have to ask – Benedict, did you say it was Declan who was here?’

‘Declan,’ said Benedict. ‘Yes, he was here.’ His voice still sounded slightly slurred.

‘Who’s Declan?’ asked the paramedic.

‘Didn’t he let you in?’ said Nell, glancing up at him.

‘No one let us in. The front door was open – we just came straight up.’

‘I don’t know who he is,’ said Nell, ‘but he was here when I arrived. I think he must be a relative. He has the same vivid blue eyes as Benedict.’

The older paramedic looked at her in astonishment. ‘This man has brown eyes,’ he said. ‘Look.’

With a stir of fear, Nell saw that he was right. Benedict Doyle’s eyes were brown.

After they had gone, Nell sat for a while in the dining room.

Her mind was in turmoil. How could someone’s eye colour change like that? She was sure she had not been mistaken. Benedict’s eyes had been vivid clear blue when she first knelt by him: the colour had made her think of things like gentian and lapis lazuli, or the vibrant Prussian blue beloved of painters. Could it conceivably have been tinted contact lenses, which had later dropped out? But the other man’s eyes had been the same.

The other man. Benedict had called him Declan. Nell had lost track of him and he had not seemed to be around when Benedict, still confused and disoriented, was carried down the stairs. He had not got into the ambulance, but he might have had his own car and followed, although there had not been a car parked on the drive when she arrived. The possibility that he really had been a housebreaker flickered on Nell’s mind again, but she dismissed it. In any case, Benedict had seemed to know him – he had referred to him as Declan. So Declan might simply have gone unobtrusively away, not wanting to be involved. If so, it was not very polite, but some people were fazed by illness. Perhaps Benedict really did have epilepsy, which not everyone could deal with. But whatever he had done and whoever he was, Nell had better let Nina know what had happened to Benedict.

‘Oh Lord, that’s dreadful,’ said Nina, answering her phone with the usual breathless air that implied she had been in the middle of something fiercely important and was racing to meet half a dozen unspecified deadlines. ‘Oh, the poor lamb. I expect they took him to the Whittington or the Royal Free, didn’t they, so I’ll check which one and dash out to see him at once – well, almost at once, because I’m just putting together a wedding buffet for a hundred people – it’s her third wedding, you’d think she’d settle for smoked salmon sandwiches and a slice of cake, wouldn’t you, but no, it’s got to be ice sculptures and the most elaborate buffet you ever heard of and . . . Did they say what might be wrong with Benedict?’

‘No, but they said his vital signs all checked out all right,’ said Nell who had been waiting for Nina to pause for breath. ‘They did ask about epilepsy or diabetes.’

‘Well, if he’s got either of those things it’s the first I’ve heard,’ said Nina. ‘And I should think I’d know, wouldn’t you, on account of being a kind of elder sister and the poor love’s next of kin—’

‘It looked more to me as if he’d simply missed his footing on those second-floor stairs and knocked himself out when he fell,’ said Nell, hoping she was not giving false reassurance or painting an inaccurate picture. ‘They’re very narrow, aren’t they?’

‘Are they? I’ve only ever been to that house once and I don’t remember going upstairs at all. But it sounds as if it’s a good thing you turned up, or Benedict might have been lying there for hours.’

‘Well, there was the other—’

‘Nell, darling, I’ll have to go, because if I’m to get to the hospital to see what’s going on and then get back for this frightful over-the-top wedding food. Honestly, why I ever started a catering business, I can’t imagine. But I’ll call you later and let you know about Benedict. I should think you’re right about him falling downstairs and knocking himself out.’

It was too late to start on the inventory now; Nell would have to arrange a return visit. But she had better make sure everywhere was secure before leaving – that windows were all closed and latched, and, if the electricity was on, that no heaters had been left on. She could bolt the French window, then go out by the front door which had a Yale lock and could be slammed. Walking through the dark house, she was glad to think that in about ten minutes she would be among people and shoppers and crowded trains.

The electricity was on, but most of the bulbs seemed to have blown. But the hall light worked and provided enough light for her to glance into all the downstairs rooms and then ascend the main staircase to the first floor. Luckily the landing light worked as well. Nell checked the bedrooms, then looked at the small stairs leading to the second floor. She did not need to go up there. Or did she? It was more likely that Benedict had been coming down from that floor when he fell or passed out and that meant Nell had better check up there as well in case he had left something behind. Wallet or keys or something.