Paper Princess
Page 15
‘It’s Mum!’ Tilly wailed, clamouring out of her lower bunk. ‘She won’t wake up!’
Clive was leaning down towards his wife, slapping her cheeks to try and stir her. ‘Call 999!’ He turned and barked the order to Tilly, but Monica was in the doorway and dashed off.
‘Is she going to be all right?’ Tilly sobbed, her cheeks quickly becoming waterfalls. ‘Why won’t she wake up?’
‘I don’t know!’ Clive snapped, his back to her. ‘Come on, baby, wake up,’ he whispered to his wife. ‘Please, I can’t do this without you.’
Tilly could only stand by and watch as paramedics stormed into her room. They didn’t pause to notice the paper streamers. They spoke to Tilly’s mother in urgent tones, but still she didn’t wake. Carefully, they pulled her out from the bed and placed her on a gurney. An oxygen mask was placed over her mouth and nose and someone began fiercely tapping the back of her hand.
‘Tilly, come on.’ Monica pushed her way into the room to lead Tilly out on to the landing. ‘You shouldn’t have to see that,’ she told her as they went down to the kitchen.
Tilly couldn’t speak. She was trembling and crying. Monica and Maria were with her. They were equally silent. They exchanged panicked glances, but said nothing.
After ten long minutes they heard the paramedics carrying their mother down the stairs. They were all holding their breath as the door to the kitchen opened.
‘I’m going to the hospital with her,’ their dad told them.
‘Is she awake?’ Tilly spluttered, suddenly finding her voice.
‘Look after her,’ Clive told his older daughters. ‘I’ll be home as soon as I can.’
When Tilly opened her eyes, she saw sunlight filtering in through her streamers, casting strange shapes across the floor. Again, her body had betrayed her. After what had probably been the worst night of her life, she had managed to fall asleep. Pushing her hair out of her face, Tilly sat up and looked around. She was on her bottom bunk, wrapped in two duvets and leant against a large pile of cushions. The streamers she had so carefully hung the night before now looked ragged and tattered. Many had fallen in the night or been knocked down by all the people who had tried to squash into her small room.
Tilly choked as she looked at the broken butterflies and snowflakes trampled into the carpet.
Her mother.
Her heart flip-flopped with panic as she scrambled from her bed. Where was she? Was she home? Tilly ran from her room and raced across the landing. She barged into her parents’ room, praying that her mother would be there, curled up on her side on the far side of the bed. But even in the darkness Tilly could see that the bed hadn’t been slept in, the sheets still neatly made.
Staggering back, Tilly dropped to her knees. Why hadn’t her mother come home? Where was her father?
Beside her, a door creaked open and Monica looked out. Dark circles gathered beneath her eyes.
‘Tilly, you’re up.’ Her voice was hoarse as though she’d been using it too much. She came out of her room and dropped down to sit beside Tilly.
‘Where’s Mum?’ Tilly asked, her lip trembling.
‘She’s at the hospital,’ Monica explained as she rubbed a hand up and down her back. ‘She was unconscious for a while but they managed to revive her at three in the morning. Dad is still there with her. He’s called to say we can go and see her when it’s visiting hours.’
Tilly had never been more relieved in her life. She embraced Monica tightly, her tears soaking into the Sons of Cherry T-shirt her sister loved to sleep in.
‘I thought she’d died,’ Tilly admitted as the terror which had been building up inside her began to ease away.
‘We all did,’ Monica whispered. ‘It was pretty scary.’
‘But she’s OK, she’ll be all right?’
‘Yeah,’ Monica squeezed her tightly though she still sounded sad, ‘she’ll be all right.’
Tilly felt uneasy the moment they walked into the hospital. Everywhere she looked there were people being pushed around in wheelchairs or staggering alongside a drip on wheels. Her mother didn’t belong here.
The same medicinal smell which inhabited her parents’ bedroom coated every corridor, though there was also a pungent smell of stale urine which made Tilly want to vomit. Somehow she remained composed as she followed her sisters towards the ward her mother was in.
Monica turned to look at her. ‘Remember what Dad said. Be upbeat, OK? And don’t freak out about all the wires and stuff.’
‘Wires and stuff?’ Tilly was still pondering the thought as they rounded a corner and saw her mother. At least, she saw the parts of her mother which weren’t being obscured by the machines now attached to her.
‘Hey,’ Ivy spoke when they came close but her words were barely audible thanks to the oxygen mask covering her face.
‘Here, let’s take that off for a bit.’ A nearby nurse leaned over to remove the mask and Tilly’s mother took in a deep, satisfied breath.
‘Are these your daughters?’ the nurse asked.
‘Yes,’ Ivy nodded, her eyes glittering with pride.
‘You’ve got three stunners.’ The nurse squeezed Ivy’s hand before heading to the end of the next bed to pump antibacterial hand wash and check the patient’s chart. Tilly’s own hands were still sticky from the clear gloop her sisters had insisted she use when they’d walked in.
Three stunners. Tilly looked at the nurse as if she were mad. Two stunners, yes, but definitely not a third one.
‘I’m so pleased to see you,’ Ivy cried a little breathlessly.
‘Mum, are you OK?’ Monica was hugging her while Maria waited her turn.
‘We were so worried about you,’ Maria whispered.
‘I’m sorry I gave you such a scare,’ their mother apologised. ‘Apparently, my heart is getting a bit sluggish but the doctor says some medication will sort that right out.’
‘That’s great, Mum.’ Monica squeezed Ivy’s hand, careful to avoid the needles placed into the back of it.
‘Do you girls think you could pick me up some magazines?’ Ivy looked between her two oldest daughters. ‘I’ve been so bored just lying here.’
‘Sure, Mum.’ Monica tugged Maria away from the bed, glancing protectively at Tilly before heading to the main area of the ward.
‘How’s my little Tilly?’ Ivy’s words were warm but sounded bittersweet. Tilly cautiously approached the bed. Her mother looked as though she’d been caught in some hideous spider’s web thanks to all the plastic wires which gathered around her.
‘Was this my fault?’ Tilly asked shamefully. She’d been the one to insist her mother partake in her surprise. If only she’d let her rest, maybe none of this would have happened.
‘Of course not!’ Ivy’s eyes widened, appalled. ‘I had a lovely time with you.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes,’ Ivy smiled. ‘It was lovely to escape into fairy tales for a while.’
Tilly moved further up the bed so she was stood directly beside her mother, who was propped against numerous pillows.
‘But Tilly.’ Her mother struggled to lift her arm and reach for her. Tilly met her halfway and they held hands.
‘Yes?’
‘I know how much you love escaping into fairy tales.’ Ivy paused to cough and her breath rattled worryingly in her chest. The nurse at the nearby bed paused from checking notes on a patient to cast a wary glance over. ‘Tilly.’ Her mother cleared her throat and managed to continue. ‘You can’t stay in a world of make believe, as tempting as it is. You must grow up, sweetheart; especially in the face of what’s to come.’
Tilly stiffened and forced herself to smile. Again, everyone was telling her to grow up. But what good did that do? Growing up would surely mean losing her mother? What was wrong with wanting to stay as things were, with refusing to let anything change?
‘Will you be coming home soon?’ Tilly asked hopefully.
‘Yes,’ Ivy nodded. ‘In a week or so, they recko
n.’
‘Good.’ Tilly didn’t like not having her mother home. It made the house feel incomplete, like a jigsaw with an entire portion missing. Without those pieces you couldn’t even tell what the main image was meant to be.
‘When I come home I want to hear about how well you’re doing at school, you understand?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘We got what we could.’ Monica and Maria returned with a small stack of magazines which Maria casually tossed onto the end of the bed.
‘They had a terrible selection,’ she frowned.
‘We did our best.’
‘Your dad is about somewhere.’ Ivy strained in her bed to try and look beyond her small section of the ward. ‘Make sure he gets you girls something good for dinner, not just a takeaway.’
‘OK,’ Monica nodded.
Tilly ate the last of her McDonalds and sipped thoughtfully on her milkshake. Her bedroom had been restored to its normal state. The collection of cuddly toys had resumed their residence on the bottom bunk and the paper streamers were now in the bin, as if the previous night had never happened. But it had. Tilly had yet to realise how she’d carry that night with her for the rest of her life.
Tilly looked at her Happy Meal box. Her sisters had ordered adult meals but Tilly was drawn to the children’s option and she didn’t even care. Her mother and everyone else were wrong when they told her she had to grow up. Growing up would mean accepting that the world was falling apart.
Beyond the small confines of her room, she heard the distant chants of her townspeople. They were worried for their Queen and for the princess who was at risk of being left alone.
But as Tilly heard their cries carry across the grassy plains towards her town she knew that with them around she’d never be alone. They would always be looking out for her. Emboldened by their presence, Tilly began to climb her tower. She was carefully navigating her way past the thorny rose bushes and shivered against the increasingly cool air.
Panting, she reached the top. Sweeping across her familiar room, she hurried past her grand four-poster bed and went to the opposite window, pushing open the wooden shutters. Brisk air enveloped her as she leaned out, her hands resting on the stone brickwork. From this side of her tower she could just make out the edge of the ocean breaking against a distant shore.
A pale blue sky stretched out, granting her an impressive view of her beloved kingdom. People scurried about below her like ants. Tilly waved down as the wind tugged at her long, loose hair. She was smiling and felt lighter, less burdened by her troubles.
‘I’m home!’ Tilly bellowed out from her tower, letting her voice carry on the wind across the realm.
‘And I’m never going to leave!’
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© 2016 Carys Jones
The right of Carys Jones to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published by Accent Press Ltd 2016
Paperback ISBN: 9781786150646
Ebook ISBN: 9781682994689