Richard’s uncle Gerald was on the floor between two tables, conscious but ash-grey, one hand pressed to his chest. The music died. People pushed back from their tables. Richard was across the room and on his knees beside the old man before Helen had fully registered what she was seeing. Owen quietly pocketed the envelope.
Then Owen was beside Richard. Moving quickly, calmly, with the quiet authority of someone who knew exactly what to do. He loosened Gerald’s collar, checked his pulse with two fingers, and spoke to him in a low, even voice. Gerald answered in fragments. Owen relayed information to the emergency operator on the guest’s phone.