Читать книгу The Price of Fame - Rowena Cory Daniels - Страница 5

The barefoot blonde lay on a carpet of Jacaranda blossoms, not far from the back steps of a stately, but dilapidated old Queenslander. She wore a white tank top and faded cut-off jeans. Two old women bent over her, one watching desperately as the other performed CPR.

Shafts of late afternoon sun slanted through the Jacaranda. Redolent with steamy heat, the golden, oversaturated light reminded me of a 50s Technicolor movie as it painted the grey-haired woman's floral dress in garish tones.

The other woman, the one with improbable red hair, wrung her hands. 'Oh, why didn't I water the azaleas?' The grey-haired woman came to her knees. Placing her hands, one over the other in the centre of the young woman's chest, she rocked forward with each heart compression.

'If you'd touched the tap, you'd be dead.' She was out of breath and flushed. I got the impression she'd been working on the blonde for a while and I didn't really care if she revived the woman or not. 'At your age you would never have survived an electric shock.' She gulped another breath. 'Can't blame yourself for faulty wiring.'

She leant forward to do the breathing thing again. One, two, three, then back to heart compressions.

'Why's the ambulance taking so long?' The redhead muttered. From above I could see her grey roots. Riotous Red, that's what they called the hair dye.

I knew this because she was my Nan and I was going to dye her hair this evening, after I watered the azaleas.

Damn.

Everything contracted…

I lay on my back, blinking up at Mrs Ormiston, the retired nurse, who lived over the back fence.

'Thank god!' Nan whispered.

Mrs Ormiston frowned. 'Antonia, can you hear me?'

I looked into her eyes and saw death. Her death. It was too much. Grey flowers bloomed, filling my vision and I welcomed them as my mind shut down.