Andrews East, along with a first fine powdering of snow. I was sitting in my sister’s rocking chair in the Priory, watching the pink light of dusk pooling on a horizon of barren fields. Through the autumn I had managed to shut my eyes to the signs of winter until November, when I was jolted awake. The air outside was cold now, my lungs seized when I inhaled. I had forgotten what this was like — the pure shock of it and the body’s instinctive contraction. The house contracted too. Timber cracked, pipes banged in protest. On the bed my sister had kicked free of her covers. It was cold enough in her bedroom that I had put on double socks and wrapped myself in a duvet, but Laure was flushed with heat. She had run a fever all week. For the last two days she’d been alternately delirious and unconscious. Her lips were cracked from dehydration. Her eyes, when she opened them, had a frightening, glassy look. She was still alive, I told myself. Others had been cut down so quickly they had not had a chance to call a doctor.
What do You think about The Heart Specialist (2010)?
