Chapter 2
As the police car rolled away across the field, Margaret had managed to take a brittle grip on her emotions. She felt suddenly cold and shivery, then as she turned her face away from Juno's still warm body, she saw her forgotten group of teenagers still standing chilled and huddled in bewildered silence at the top of the rise. Still not daring to approach nor to withdraw. Margaret put on her brave face, the one she used when she could not allow the world to see the depth of her fragility, and marched up to them exuding false confidence and control.
"Come on now you lot, there's nothing more to see here." She somehow managed to enfold all five in a maternal embrace.
"Let's go and get some coffee, I guess we could all use a warm drink." There was no voice of dissent as they marched slowly arm in arm back across the wet grass to the stables. Margaret studiously avoided looking at the empty stall which waited open doored for the horse that would never be returning. She averted her eyes from the funny little pale blue car that waited forlornly for the return of it's pretty young owner.
The teenagers had found that the idea of a day's riding had suddenly lost its appeal. It was time for them to go home. Margaret had to agree, what she really needed now was a stiff drink or two and maybe the comforting arms of one of those husbands that she had unaccountably let slip through her fingers. Only the gin and tonic however was forthcoming as she sat alone rocking gently with her thoughts.
Suzanne Wilcox, in her early forties, slim and petite and still hardly less attractive than her young daughter, had suffered a frustrating morning dealing with unresolved problems at Barker and Barker the real estate firm where she worked. Suddenly those petty irritations evaporated into meaningless trivia compared to the nightmare that confronted her now. She sat red eyed and trembling in the back of a police car clutching at an inadequate and already sodden lace-trimmed handkerchief. She was desperate to get to her beautiful daughter but terrified by what she may find. The pale sun had finally broken through the mist on that eventful morning, but to Suzanne the streets were grey and bleak; the shops and houses that flashed by the car's window had no colour, no enticement to linger; there would be no sunshine in her day.
Tony had his phone turned off, an annoying habit he had fallen into lately. It was as if he wanted no contact with his family or anyone. Suzanne suddenly felt desperately alone in the world, Emily was the one constant in her life, the one she could rely on in an emergency. Bringing Emily into the world was her one true source of pride. Now that she was grown Emily had become her anchor, someone to turn to for help in moments of stress. Where was she now?
Emily had been floating in darkness, caressed by an overwhelming stillness. In the distance, through the vagueness she could sense a muffled sound, somehow alarming; a screaming sound that threatened to wake her. There was a brush against her cheek it was a comfort, but why? She need no comforting, she just needed to sleep, to drift away... Then there was nothing for a while just silent peace. Emily knew that she was dead or at least dying and the knowledge was accepted without concern. She could not understand how she had come to this state, if she was still possessed of emotion then it was confusion not fear. Through the veil of her existence there was a loud sharp bang, as of a car back-firing and then as the screaming stopped her world dissolved back into silent nothingness. Emily felt warm and comfortable, sleepy and unconcerned as the darkness enveloped her again.
Then she could hear the distant hum of maybe a far away engine, or maybe the drowsy drone of contented bees. None of it made sense to her but led her thoughts down a lazy path to a summer's afternoon scented with, new mown hay and the aromatic sweetness of ripe strawberries. Emily knew that she was dreaming but it was not her usual type of dream. This was more confused and yet at the same time held a harder edge of reality. The dream ended and she was sleeping again... Nothing stirred in her floating darkness for a long, long time. Then she was roused by jostling and voices, she was aware of pain hovering like an ominous thunder cloud and felt the need to bring comfort to whomever was in distress. She could make no sense of the voices and let them go, finding contentment in sleep and the warmth of her cocoon.
The Ambulance pulled slowly to a halt outside the main doors of the Accident and Emergency Department. Emily was transferred smoothly to a trolley and rapidly wheeled up the ramp and through the main doors which burst open to reveal a brightly lit corridor. From there she was moved past the bewildered faces of strangers who were too closeted in their own problems to notice the pale young woman clinging to life by nothing more substantial than a spider's thread. Along the corridor they raced, past vacant trolleys and hard metal framed chairs designed for durability more than comfort. Already a grave faced doctor was checking her vital signs. Finally she arrived at an assessment room where a flurry of activity quickly came to the conclusion that although her life was under no immediate threat, her future was far from assured. Emily was breathing with shallow fluttering breaths, she had a thready pulse and her blood pressure hovered on the brink of dissolution. There was extensive bruising and superficial scratching. Her concussion was a major concern, and she was still unresponsive to the urgent questions the medical staff posed.
"Emily, can you hear me? Emily can you open for eyes for me? Emily... Emily... Are you there Emily?"
Emily was there but the effort of responding was beyond her, the questions lost behind a wall of silence. For the medical staff the main concern was her neck injury which needed immediate attention. She was taken for scanning but was unaware of any of this as she found herself dreaming again, her floating world was starting to crystallize into something that she could somehow draw a little meaning from. The interpretation was vague but now the velvety blackness had evolved into an amniotic universe of pastel colours, swirling around her as she floated weightless. Astonished by this Emily still felt unexpectedly at peace, safe and warm, but without the clarity of thought to quite question what she was experiencing. Her world seemed to have two distinct poles. In one direction something was attracting her with a strange familiarity, drawing her towards it. In the opposite direction was something other. Something that belonged to some antagonistic place where occasionally sounds, voices and memories were weakly calling for her attention. She ignored the calls and enjoyed the floating sensation and the colours which seemed to be coalescing into recognisable shapes. Then she fell dreamless again wrapped in comforting darkness.
Suzanne had been waiting for news of her daughter for over an hour now. No one had been willing or able to tell her anything. Her feelings of being alone and helpless were overwhelming. Tony was still not answering his phone. She rang Margaret Jenkins and found her comforting, sensible words a help but she was not family. Margaret was still mired in her own sadness and after putting on another mask of confidence and speaking words of comfort to Suzanne she sank into her armchair, looked around the lonely room and quietly wept.
Finally a doctor came. He led Suzanne to a small room and indicated with practised kindness for her to sit. He smiled in a studied compassionate way, his voice relaxed almost casual in an attempt to put Suzanne at her ease. He was wholly unsuccessful in this.
"Mrs Wilcox. I'm doctor Partington. I'll be caring for Emily for the next few days."
Through her subtle but still recognizably French accent Suzanne asked:
"How is she, can I see her?" Suzanne's questions were fired with an obvious worried concern that Mark Partington was all too familiar with.
"Please don't worry Mrs Wilcox, your daughter really is in good hands, we will do the very best for her I promise you that. But I must warn you that her injuries are quite serious, we can take nothing for granted." He lay his hands gently on Suzanne's in a gesture of compassion which only increased her concern. "Emily is not in any immediate danger but we have taken X rays and she will need surgery to correct a broken neck and she is still in a coma so we won't be able to give you a realistic prognosis until..."
The doctor kept on talking but Su
zanne had lost focus on the words he was speaking, she just heard the frightening disjointed words broken neck and coma and felt the room spin; she wanted to vomit but placed her hand over her mouth and swallowed down the acidic fear that bubbled in her throat.
"So do you have any questions?" The doctor asked. Suzanne had a million questions raging away in her mind but in the moment she could form none; all she could do was look blank. She simply shook her head and the doctor nodded with wisdom born of years of talking with shattered family members.
"I think it's best if you go home now," he said "The surgery has been scheduled for later this afternoon and when Emily is back and tidied up we'll give you a call and you can see her then."
Doctor Partington stood and taking Suzanne's arm directed her to the door. She found herself in a stark brightly lit corridor, the sterile whiteness seemed overpowering as she stood hardly knowing what had just happened to her. She had the feeling that she had been simply dealt with, another box ticked off in a busy day. The doctor, she couldn't even remember his name, wanted her out of the way. Clearing the decks so that he could get on with his job. She couldn't blame him, but she was in no condition to deal with any of this. Go home the doctor had said.
In a flurry of conflicting thoughts, trying to make sense of what she had been told Suzanne found herself doing what the doctor had suggested. She wanted desperately to see Emily and hold her, to make her better with a kiss... it had always worked when was little. Instead she struggled her way along the labyrinth of corridors until finally she stumbled though a door marked Exit and found herself outside in the glare of harsh daylight looking bewildered.
"You need a taxi love?"
Suzanne looked up.
"A taxi... Yes" She said. "Take me home."
Emily was dreaming again. Her world was slowly becoming a real place for her; the blurred features were staring to become familiar, starting to make some sort of sense. Still floating, the colours were more vivid now; she found she could move around her small universe and search for meaning. None of it fitted with what she had known before, but she was content to observe and immerse herself in the experience. Emily had no idea where she was nor how she had come to this place but it felt strangely natural as if this was where she had always lived... or died.
Emily was taken for her surgery. As the anaesthetic took hold, her dream world faded and she slept in silent darkness again.
The surgeons found the fracture of her neck at the fifth cervical vertebra. Her spinal cord was not severed but there was bruising and the concern about potential loss of function remained. Emily's neck was aligned, the damaged vertebra was pinned and then a brace was fitted across her shoulders and down to a belt. It was attached to a metal halo across her forehead which was screwed into her skull. The arrangement allowed no movement of her neck until the bones had repaired themselves. The procedure was completed successfully and Emily was returned to Room 12 and connected to the monitors with their ominous and repetitive beep. There was still no sign of her coming out of her coma and the prognosis remained stubbornly uncertain.
As the anaesthetic wore off Emily returned to her dream world and was starting to explore her surroundings. Things were beginning to feel familiar as her confidence and ability to explore her bizarre world grew. She held the notion that if this was death then it was not an intolerable state.
The next morning before the Sun had raised its pale face, Suzanne was woken by the insistent ring of her phone. She took a moment to focus her mind; her sleep had been fractured and when she finally drifted off she had overslept and was now feeling groggy. Turning like a pain in her stomach, the previous day came back to her in a rush. Fearing the worst she fumbled with trembling fingers for the phone that sat on her bedside table.
"Hello, Susanne Wilcox." Her mouth was dry and the words were hard to form from the confusion of her thoughts.
It was an administrator from the hospital. "Good morning Mrs Wilcox, this is Jeanette from Biddenfield General. It's just to let you know that the operation on your daughter, err..." Suzanne could hear the woman leafing through papers. "Err... yes Emily... the operation went well and if you would like to come in she is well enough for you to see her."
"And is she awake yet?" Suzanne asked with a fragility of voice that had Jeanette rustling her papers again.
"It appears that she is still unconscious I'm afraid, but don't worry, that is often the way in cases like this." The administrator spoke with authority but the words were intended to comfort rather than be an expression of informed opinion.
The call was ended with the usual courtesies. As soon as Suzanne put down her phone it rang again making her jump with nervous tension. Suzanne's emotional state was raw, her disturbed night's sleep had done nothing to re-establish any trace of her normal composure. It was Kenneth Havers, respected vet and Emily's well thought of boss. As such Suzanne knew of him, mostly good things, but they had never actually met. Emily had described him with tongue firmly in cheek as quite fit for a man of his age. Suzanne had built a mental image of the man and now the confident and caring voice on the phone did nothing to dispel her opinion.
"Mrs Wilcox, It's Ken Havers. I'm sorry to disturb you. I know you must be going through hell at the moment... I just wondered if there was any news yet."
"Nothing really, I've just taken a call from the hospital and Emily is still not conscious, but they have operated on her neck and it seems to have gone well... they say its early days yet. Oh and Ken, I want to thank you for caring for Emily at scene of her fall. Margaret told me how good you were."
"I only wish there had been more that I could have done I count Emily as a dear friend." He paused unsure of what else he could say. "OK Mrs Wilcox, thanks for the update, I won't hold you up, but if there's anything I can do... anything at all, please give me a call. If I may, I'll ring back in a day or two and see what progress there has been. I'm sure Emily will be back with us soon, safe and sound."
"Thank you for your kindness Ken, and please call me Suzanne, Emily spoke so often about you that I feel that you are already a friend."
"I feel that too, I'll be in touch Suzanne, and don't worry, these things have a way of resolving themselves for the good."
Suzanne found Ken's calm words comforting and she sat unmoving for a while on the edge of her bed. Her mind seemed to have slowed to an idle and she gazed out onto a new morning with unfocussed eyes through the filter of gently billowing lace curtains. Despite watching the world go by for more than an hour, nothing of interest crossed her field of view.
She had intended to call in to the office, explain what had happened and ask for the day off when she remembered through her fog that it was a Sunday and the office was closed. Instead her thoughts drifted inevitably to Tony, she desperately needed him. If she could not wrap her mother's arms round Emily then at least she could hold her troubled son and find some shared comfort there. Her persistent calls had been studiously unanswered but she tried Tony's number again. She could hear it ringing on the other end of the line but also echoing along the corridor from her son's room. Suzanne assumed that he must have crept home during the early hours during one of her brief spells of sleep.
"Yeah, What?" He said, his voice thick with sleep and annoyance at being woken into the throb of a hangover.
"It's Mum, are you home?"
"Yes where are you?"
"I'm home too."
"So what the hell are you doing ringing me in the middle of the night."
"It's morning nearly nine thirty actually darling I've been trying to reach you since yesterday, hold on I'll come to your room."
After slipping on her dressing gown Suzanne tapped on Tony's door and went in, not waiting for an invitation.
Tony still lay in his bed, the duvet pulled over his head, just a streak of tousled hair peeking up from the covers.
"Where were you?" She asked. "I really needed you yesterday."
"Why me? You normally ignore me and go straight t
o my perfect sister when you need anything. Ask her if you need something." His hangover was throbbing across his temples and some vile creature seemed to be gnawing at his stomach from the inside. He pulled the covers tighter trying to shut out the world.
"There's been an accident... Oh Tony."
She couldn't help the tears despite her best efforts, despite knowing that Tony hated coping with her emotional outbursts.
Tony sat up; he saw that something was really wrong this time. As his mother approached his bed he put his arms out to her and sinking to her knees by her son's bed Suzanne held him tight and without speaking they hugged.
"What is it?" Tony said regretting his earlier curtness. "Tell me what's happened."
Suzanne let it all spill out; grateful at last to have someone close to share her nightmare with.
"OK, Mum, don't worry, let's get dressed and we can go to the hospital together. We'll find out how she is, you know our Emily, she's totally unbreakable."
Suzanne dressed and made a half hearted attempt at preparing breakfast. Neither of them were interested in food but they both needed coffee and Tony needed paracetamol – a large dose. Paracetamol seemed to have become a staple of his diet of late. While they were drinking instant coffee from steaming stoneware mugs, Suzanne took a call from Margaret who was seeking more news of Emily. Suzanne repeated what she had told Ken and promised to keep in touch as she found out more. By ten thirty they were on their way to Biddenfield and eventually came upon the rarest of endangered species – a hospital parking spot.
At reception they asked the rather disinterested woman if they were able to see Emily.
"Second name?" She asked as she she scanned the computer files.
"Wilcox... Emily Wilcox. She was admitted yesterday."
They were eventually told, after multiple phone calls, that the doctor would like a word first.
"Take a seat over there. Doctor Partington will be along soon." The receptionist said with a smile that might have been born of irony. Neither Suzanne nor Tony were in a position to notice but the news that the doctor wished to speak to them slid Suzanne into panic mode again. At least, she had the consolation of not being totally alone today she took Tony's hand. It felt warm and clammy, she hoped he wasn't sickening for anything. When the doctor came, he simply wanted to update them on Emily's condition and also warn them not to be alarmed by the contraption that was immobilizing her upper spine.
"The operation went extremely well." He said as if it were a matter of his personal pride and not the life of a young woman that hung in the balance. "We managed to put her back together again quite satisfactorily. We've also fitted a halo."
"I know my daughter is an angel, but a halo?"
Doctor Partington laughed as if he had not heard the joke a thousand times before.
"Let me explain; we have to keep Emily's neck immobilized so that the spinal column will be secure until the bones can heal. It looks a bit horrific but in fact it's not a big deal at all. In a few weeks we'll take it off. Our concern for your daughter is that, as you must know; spinal damage can lead to paralysis... the higher up the spine the injury happens...well the more widespread the potential paralysis will be. In Emily's case although the trauma was indeed high up the spine, we are optimistic that things will be satisfactorily resolved. Until she regains consciousness the extent of her problems are hard to tell but I can tell you that her spinal cord was definitely not severed. I think we can afford to be optimistic."
"Why has Emily not woken up yet?"
"The simple answer is, we just don't know. Your daughter sustained a severe concussion when she fell from her horse, this often results in unconsciousness for a short period. In her case we might have expected her to have woken by now. But I have to say, after a severe trauma to the brain, it is not infrequent for patients to remain unconscious for several days possibly even three or four weeks without there being any subsequent long term negative implications. Longer than that and we may start to become concerned. But in Emily's case we are still a long way from that point. She may even be rousing as we speak."
When they finally got to see Emily, they were both shocked at the sight. Emily was ghostly pale, her skin waxy and grey and the scaffolding screwed to her skull made her look more like a Frankenstein monster than a beautiful young woman. Suzanne's instinct was to gather Emily up in her arms and squeeze her tight. She made do with kissing her gingerly between the bars of her halo and then holding her hand. Tony had an ambivalent expression, there was concern certainly, but the wheels of his calculating brain seemed to be whirring faster than usual. A cynic might conclude that he was looking to find an angle through which he could turn the situation to his own advantage. Tony had his own problems, in his case they were largely of his own making and while he certainly wished his half sister no harm, should she not recover then the inheritance she would leave him would ease his own anguished life. One thing was certain; Emily had not woken up yet and from Tony's inexpert perspective it looked as if she may never do so.
In her dream world Emily was vaguely aware of a compassionate presence but it lay far away through some impenetrable membrane that she could make no sense of. In fact as she swirled in oblivion the actual existence of her mother was something beyond her present understanding. The message her mother was sending was however quite clear. In her dream world Emily floated and felt the waves of love and smiled.
The next day Suzanne turned up for work as usual and explained, in as much detail as her fragile state would allow, what had happened. She was immediately given the genuine sympathy that might be expected and told that she should come and go as she pleased until Emily was better. Suzanne was grateful for that but decided that she would try and keep her life as close to normal as possible. There were however practical things that needed doing. She needed to see Margaret Jenkins in the afternoon and collect Emily's little car and then make sure everything was OK at the cottage. Other than that she planned on doing a normal morning's work. Her first appointment was with Mr and Mrs Deakin. They were unhappy with the progress being made with the sale of their house and were threatening to withdraw their business. She pulled up outside the Deakin's house. It was a rather shabby place, but at the right price offered an opportunity for someone willing to invest a little time and money in its rehabilitation. But the Deakins, driven by overblown media reports of surging house prices, had insisted on putting the absolute top price on the property. As she walked up the pathway Suzanne sighed and was starting to regret that she had not taken the day off. She noticed that despite her advice, the front garden still resembled an assault course and the front door was still presented with a patina of cracked and flaking paint. First impressions were everything. Adam Deakin, recently retired from a disappointing life as a travelling salesman, opened the door. His sharp featured wife Hilda stood at his shoulder and eyed Suzanne with apparent distaste. It was Hilda who opened the tirade.
"I don't know what you think you've been doing since we gave you our business but we've not seen a single viewer." She said before adjusting her statement to more closely resemble the facts. "Well, apart from the young couple with the baby, and the strange bald headed man with that funny limp." She suddenly appeared to have remembered two of the several clients whom Suzanne had recently brought for a viewing.
"It's just not good enough is it Adam?" She looked to her husband for support. Adam mumbled an unconvincing "No dear." Confrontation was not really his style and he fidgeted uncomfortably as his wife let fly.
"And what's more, the photograph you're using just doesn't show the house off to its best potential. We told you we wanted a quick sale and it's been four weeks since the property was listed."
"Have you considered my suggestion of lowering the asking price a little?" Suzanne said trying to slide a word of her own into the conversation. "You may ultimately have to meet the market."
"Lower the price, meet the market. Call yourself a saleswoman; you might think the best way to
make a sale is to give the house away I certainly don't. You should be ashamed to call yourself a Real Estate agent. If that's the way they do things in France then you should go back there young woman."
Suzanne hadn't been prepared for how irrationally angry Hilda had become, nor was she in any emotional state to cope with this sort of thing at the moment. She burst into tears, not because of Hilda's outburst which she would normally have taken in her stride, but of course for Emily who was central in her thoughts. She ran back to her car without responding to the inflammatory words and drove off leaving the two retirees open mouthed and feeling unexpectedly a little confused and possibly even a little guilty.
After escaping the scene of the confrontation Suzanne drove along the coast road by the soft dunes to the beach. Usually deserted at this time of year, it was no less attractive for that, Suzanne walked along the sand for a while until she felt a little recovered. The bracing air and crash of waves managed to lift her spirit as she kicked at the hard wet sand and drew breaths of the fresh sea air. As she walked she could feel the sand squirm and squeak in a satisfying way beneath her feet. She spent a few moments watching the gulls engaged in aerial gymnastics wheeling across the blue flecked sky, turning and diving, squabbling amongst themselves over a scrap of food as the wind tugged at their feathers. The gulls flew in effortless command of their environment. Suzanne felt almost covetous of their carefree existence, of how they could carry on as if nothing had happened. Did they not know that the world had changed, that her daughter, her sweet Emily, lay close to death? When Suzanne returned to her car she felt a little revived; but the leaden weight of her worries were still hovering not far away.
She made a call to Margaret who immediately invited her over for coffee and a chat. After hearing the latest news Margaret asked what she could do. There was really nothing anyone could do. Suzanne accepted Margaret's offer to drive Emily's car the short distance to her cottage and then Suzanne dropped her back at the stables and took a short detour to Hegfold where she bought some rather expensive imported blue freesias with an exquisite perfume. She wanted to leave them in the cottage as a kind of talisman, her idea could hardly be expressed in rational words but the flowers were meant to somehow draw her daughter home; to make the cottage look lived in and welcoming. Suzanne could not bear the thought of the old family cottage being abandoned. She rummaged through the cupboards and found the white porcelain vase that she had bought for Emily one Christmas not so long ago when the world was still a normal place.
With intense concentration and delicacy she arranged the flowers in the vase as if Emily's recovery depended on it. Suzanne placed the vase on the polished mahogany table that Emily's grandmother has spent a lifetime waxing. She then carefully wiped away the drops of water that had dripped like minute polished lenses onto its varnished surface. Suzanne made an earnest wish that Emily would be back home to see the freesias before they faded. Reluctant to leave the peace that the magical cottage always seemed to bring her, Suzanne found and washed the hastily abandoned breakfast dishes that still lay where Emily had deserted them so recently. Then she spent an hour lost in the simple task of dusting and tidying Emily's home. It felt good to be doing something for her even if it were only a little mundane housework. The freesias were already filling the room with their fragrance and Suzanne sat for a while She picked up Emily's book of poetry the page was open where she assumed her daughter had been reading. She read a few lines from the Tennyson poem:
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Not really a poetry person, the verse touched Suzanne delicately vulnerable as she was in her sadness. She lingered longer than she had intended in the happy room. Somehow she felt closer to Emily here; closer even than when she was at her sterile hospital bedside. Finally as the shadows lengthened and the distant dunes took on a honeyed glow she pulled the front door closed behind her, checked that it was locked securely and went home cheered and troubled in equal measure.
At the Biddenfield General the alarm had suddenly started wailing. Emily's monitor had detected that she had, quietly and without warning, stopped breathing. The crash team arrived within seconds. Damage to the spinal cord so high up is well known to compromise the breathing function as the signal from the brain is lost or disrupted. What the doctors feared most had happened. They had been prepared for this and Emily was quickly stabilized. A life support system was now the only thing that held a tenuous grip on the young woman's life. She remained stubbornly in her coma.
Emily had been roused from deep sleep to her dream world by a sudden feeling of alarm. It was as if she were drowning. She pushed towards the strange membrane that separated her from the voices. The colours of her world started to fade to an ominous darkness and she felt a chill run though her. Then as rapidly as it had started the feeling was over. She was relaxed again and her world blossomed back into colour but now things were clearer than before, something had changed. Behind her the strange membrane was now faintly translucent but impossible to break through but in front of her she could now feel something that seemed to draw her towards it, a point of focus. She could understand none of it but the focus seemed somehow to be the source of the energy that brought her universe to life. It seemed linked to things of the distant past and the vital mystic energies of creation.
As she approached the point of focus Emily started to see the vague outline of a door. Slowly she navigated through the greens and browns of her universe until she was up against the doorway. It looked somehow familiar yet she knew that she could never have seen it before. She pushed against it and the door felt as if it might yield to her, if only she could muster all her dormant strength from where it was hiding. Her invisible fingers wrapped around the door knob and she could feel the coldness of metal. She tried to twist it but her grip seemed too weak. Emily felt that she needed to get through, to find what lay beyond the door. Yet somehow, in a recess of her vacant memories, something told her that she already knew what was waiting for her across the threshold. She pulled away, still floating as if gravity did not exist in her strange new existence. Then she drew close again drawing strength from the energy until she felt growing strength fill her vague shape. She rushed back towards the door, twisting and pushing with all her might in full certainty that she would succeed.
Emily stumbled through the suddenly yielding opening into a bright room; her energy spent, she no longer had control of what was happening to her. There was sudden unaccustomed weight for the first time since arriving in her cocoon, but her energy spent by the effort of breaking through the door, her legs gave way and she stumbled in towards the floor like a collapsing sand castle.
Through the brightness as Emily tumbled as if in slow motion, she caught the sweet scent of flowers. Then she saw a white porcelain vase of blue freesias standing in a pool of light on a round polished mahogany table.
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