She looks around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Camilla maybe having breakfast downstairs in the kitchen or even through the French doors pottering about outside.
‘Upstairs. She hasn’t left the room since your last visit.’
The words hit her hard. She thinks back to the message she received from Camilla and how pleased she’d been that she’d made such quick progress, going for a run so soon after their appointment. But maybe she should have seen through it, or at least questioned it. But it had been so nice to receive some positive news for a change.
‘I know my way, I can head on up,’ Phoebe says, pulling off her boots and leaving her things on the telephone seat like before.
Arabella nods, sighing. But as Phoebe is about to head up the stairs, she speaks again.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I’m OK, but thanks for asking. I’ll let you know if we need anything. You go have a rest.’
Arabella nods. ‘OK, I think I will. Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.’
It’s not much, but Phoebe holds on tightly to those words as she heads through the old house towards Camilla’s bedroom.
The door is ajar and she taps lightly. When no response comes, she says in a clear voice, ‘It’s Phoebe here – Nurse Harrison. I’m coming in, OK?’
The room is mostly in darkness, a single beam of sunlight forcing its way in through a gap between the curtains. There’s a stale atmosphere, the air musty and heavy. If sadness had a smell, this would be it. Camilla Ramsgate is curled up in the bed, this time on her side facing away from the doorway.
‘Hello, Camilla.’
She doesn’t reply.
‘I’m going to open the curtains, OK?’
Light streams into the room, illuminating flecks of dust. Arabella’s sleeping bag is still curled up on the chaise longue and there’s a plate of untouched toast on the bedside table, alongside a cup of what Phoebe guesses must be cold tea.
‘I’m going to get you a glass of water.’
She takes an empty glass from the bedside table and heads into the en suite. While she’s there, she scans the room for telltale signs, spotting bottles of pills lined up by the sink.
‘I think it would be good to try to drink something,’ she says once she’s back at Camilla’s bedside. She crouches down beside the older woman, whose eyes have a glassy, empty look to them. It’s as though she’s somewhere else completely. ‘Can you drink some of this for me, please, Camilla?’
Silently, Camilla pulls herself to sitting, so slowly that it’sas though even that movement is too much to manage. While she drinks, Phoebe takes her pulse and blood pressure, noting them down.
‘I’m sorry I lied to you.’
Camilla’s voice comes out as a croak, making Phoebe think it’s maybe a while since she last spoke.
‘You don’t have to apologise to me.’
‘I was going to go. I found my old trainers.’ Camilla nods in the direction of the dressing table and Phoebe spots a pair of trainers arranged neatly beneath, a folded pair of leggings on the chair. There’s something about the sight of them there, so hopeful in a room that feels so tired and sad, that breaks her heart a little bit. But she works hard to keep her expression neutral.
‘What stopped you?’
Camilla puts down the glass of water, her eyes flicking to the photographs on the bedside table. She looks even more shrunken than the first time they met and Phoebe makes a note to tell Arabella about some high-calorie shakes she could get if Camilla isn’t feeling like eating.
‘Our conversation last time reminded me how much I used to enjoy running. The thought of going again … I was actually looking forward to it.’
‘Well, that’s a great start,’ Phoebe says enthusiastically. When someone is struggling with depression, showing an interest in anything is a big step. But Camilla’s eyes shine as she blinks back tears.
‘The thought of running again … It made me happy. I realised I hadn’t felt happy once since Teddy died.’
Phoebe listens carefully, trying hard to hear what is really being said between Camilla’s words.
‘And how did it make you feel, to feel happy again?’
