by Mel Sherratt
A couple with a small baby sitting to her right grimaced at each other.
‘Look, I just want to see if he’s—’ Donna’s voice broke.
‘You can come through the doors, here to your left,’ the woman behind the desk told her. ‘He’s in cubicle nine.’
‘Thank you.’
A buzzer went off. Donna opened the door and stepped into a corridor. Three trolley beds were queued in a line, their occupants all elderly, relatives and nurses fussing over them. Instantly, Donna was reminded of how frail her mum was and a sob escaped her. Why did this have to happen now? Didn’t she have enough to worry about?
Fresh tears glistened in her eyes as she rushed to cubicle nine. As she drew level with it, she could see Sam lying on a bed, propped up with a pillow behind his head. His right hand was bandaged loosely and raised in the air, the third finger flopping down of its own accord. Dried blood sat underneath his fingernails, drips splattered over his other hand and there was a smudge of red across his chin. He’d been stripped of his clothes and put into a hospital gown.
‘Sam!’ Donna rushed to his side.
‘Mum!’ Sam’s face creased up as he spotted her. ‘It hurts like fuck.’
Donna ran a hand over his hair as if he were a child. ‘Don’t worry, son,’ she soothed.
‘But I might lose my finger.’ His tears fell freely then as shock took over. ‘I don’t want to look like a freak.’
‘Hey, come on now,’ Donna soothed. She hadn’t seen Sam cry since his dad had left when he was twelve. Although Joe Harvey wasn’t his biological father, they had been close as Sam was growing up. Even after the truth had come out that his real father was someone else living on the estate, Sam had still wanted to think of Joe as his dad, despite not seeing too much of him now that he’d moved out of the area, remarried and had two further children.
Sam had Donna’s long build and limbs, and his hair was dark like hers. Deep blue eyes were staring up at her, willing her to say that everything was going to be okay. For all his brave face and hard man attitude, Sam would always be her little boy. But he had some questions to answer, nonetheless. She waited for his tears to subside before speaking to him again.
‘Are you feeling calmer now?’ she asked.
Sam nodded, wiping at his eyes.
‘Right then.’ She leaned in close to him and whispered, ‘Would you mind telling me how the hell this happened?’
Sam swallowed. ‘We were doing a job – cutting down some trees and we wanted it doing quicker—’
‘We being you and …’
Sam gnawed on his bottom lip. ‘Scott Johnstone.’ His eyes dropped.
‘I might have bloody known!’ In frustration, Donna raised her hand in the air and brought it down on the bed, narrowly missing Sam’s thigh. ‘He’s only just come out of prison! You know he’s trouble. I told you time and time again not to get involved with that good-for-nothing and what do you do? Lose half your hand and …’ Stopping when she realised Sam was crying again, she searched around in her handbag for a tissue and handed it to him. ‘Sorry. Go on.’
‘We were on a bankside and it was covered with piles of bricks and rubble. Scott had the chainsaw. I tried to put a large piece into the barrow to wheel it to the trailer but it kept rolling out. So I picked it up and held it out for him to cut through.’
‘Good God! And you didn’t think that was a dangerous thing to do?’
‘The blade snagged on a knot in the wood! When it came loose, it went over my hand. If I hadn’t been wearing gloves, the doctor said it would have sliced all three fingers off as well.’
Donna whimpered at the mental image of her son being left with a disabled hand. Her knees went weak and she sat down on a chair.
‘There was blood everywhere.’ Sam glanced at her, tears spilling again. ‘I’m going to be scarred for life, aren’t I?’
‘Let’s wait to see what the doctor says.’
Watching as the numbers crept up on the blood pressure monitor by his side, Donna knew she’d have to keep Sam calm or scarring would be the last thing on his mind. She checked her watch: half past one. She’d have to try and catch Keera. Hopefully she could pop in to see if Mum was okay.
A man wearing a blue shirt, dark trousers and a bright lilac tie joined them in the cubicle. ‘I’m Richard,’ he introduced himself. ‘I’m the consultant on duty.’
Donna tried not to show her surprise. He didn’t look old enough to be a doctor of any kind. To her mind, he didn’t seem any older than Sam. His bedside manner was welcoming though, his eyes behind black thick-rimmed glasses having a friendly sparkle to them.
Richard smiled at them both in turn before addressing Sam. ‘You do realise you’re the talk of the department? Everyone wants to see the chainsaw man.’
‘I don’t care. You need to give me something for the fucking pain!’ Sam cursed.
‘I will once we’ve looked you over.’ Richard’s tone was calm.
A nurse came into the cubicle to check the blood pressure monitor. Red-faced and sweating profusely due to her size, her stance gave the impression that nothing much would faze her. Donna couldn’t help but frown: she barely looked old enough to be out of school either. Or was it just that she was getting old?
‘I want something now!’ Sam yelled, making them all jump. ‘I can’t fucking stand it!’
‘Sam,’ said Donna. ‘Watch your language.’
‘But—’
‘Let us do our job and assess you,’ said Richard, ‘and we can get on to giving you the correct pain relief. Can you tell me what happened?’ He reached for Sam’s hand.
‘Don’t take the bandage off!’ Sam screeched, pressing his body into the back of the trolley bed. ‘It wouldn’t stop bleeding before. I’ll die of blood loss. I’m telling you, man, it gushed out.’
‘I need to assess it.’ Richard continued regardless.
‘Sam, please,’ said Donna. ‘Try to keep calm.’
‘Keep calm?’ said Sam. ‘Are you mad?’
Donna told the consultant what had happened as the dressing was removed. Afterwards, she peered at it in horror. There was a flap of skin hanging from Sam’s index finger where she assumed the blade had stopped, and a wide open gash at the top of the third finger, about two inches in length. All she could see was a sliver of white in amidst the mess.
‘Is— is that his knuckle bone I can see there?’
Sam tried not to cry out in pain.
Richard nodded. ‘Yes, the blade must have sliced right through it.’
Donna covered her mouth to stop from gagging.
‘Why is my finger hanging down?’ Sam wanted to know.
‘I suspect you’ve severed a tendon.’
‘But you can fix it, right?’ Donna asked.
‘We need to clean it up first so that we can see more of it.’ Richard’s smile was reassuring. ‘You’ll need an operation for us to do that.’
‘Wh— what?’
As Richard explained what would happen, Sam screwed up his face and groaned in agony. ‘I can’t do this,’ he cried.
Donna tried to soothe him again. ‘How soon?’ she asked the consultant.
‘It will be this afternoon or this evening. You’ll probably be with us for a few days.’
Sam flopped back on the bed in resignation.
‘I know it’s hard, but try not to worry.’ Richard smiled reassuringly at Sam. ‘What’s done is done, so let’s get you as comfortable as we can. You’re on the emergency list so you’ll definitely be operated on before the end of the day. We’ll move you to a ward as soon as we can and get you into a bed.’
The consultant gave Donna another smile before leaving them alone. She sat forward and rested her elbows on the bed, placing her chin in her hands. This was all she needed: as if she didn’t have enough to worry about with her mum. She looked at Sam who was lying back, his eyes closed. He really should have grown up by now, be capable of standing on his own two feet. In a way, she suppose
d he was. He didn’t live at home anymore, having moved in with a friend a few months back. Yet Donna knew she would never stop being concerned about her son. He couldn’t cope on his own under normal circumstances. How the hell was she going to find the time to visit him and Mary as well as do her shifts at Shop&Save?
‘I’m scared, Mum,’ Sam spoke quietly. ‘What if I have to have my finger removed?’
‘Let’s wait and see,’ she told him.
Two porters appeared in the doorway.
‘Which ward will he be on?’ asked Donna as she stood up, reaching for her bag.
‘Ward twelve, the emergency ward, for now.’
As she walked, behind the trolley bed, Donna checked her phone for messages. There was one from Owen:
Still up for meeting tomorrow night for a drink?
Donna looked ahead at Sam. Although it wasn’t a major accident in the scheme of things, she’d have to put Owen off until she knew for sure that Sam was settled and getting better. Lord knew what would happen to him if he had to lose his finger. She sent a message back.
I’m really sorry, but I won’t be able to make it. I have a family emergency. My son’s had an accident. I’m at the hospital with him.’
‘Damn you, Sam Harvey,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘Such bloody awful timing.’
Chapter Three
Once Sam was settled on the ward, Donna rushed into Stockleigh city centre to fetch him some essentials. The surgeon had finally shown up two hours after they’d been allocated a bed, so she’d come shopping to buy Sam pyjamas and slippers.
An hour later, she was on her way back through the estate, thankful that she had missed the school run so the roads were quite clear. Sighing in exasperation, Donna realised that she’d probably just have enough time to grab a quick bite to eat before heading back to the hospital for evening visiting hours.
Donna had lived on the Mitchell Estate all her life. It had its faults, with its anti-social behaviour and rowdy areas known for trouble but, for the most, she’d found it safe enough if you didn’t venture out alone at night. She’d lived with her parents in Bernard Place on the top of the estate until she’d married her ex-husband, Joe Harvey, when she was twenty-one. Sam had been one by that time, and Keera had arrived two years later. After a rocky marriage that they’d stuck at for far too long to be healthy, Joe finally left twelve years later, after admitting to having an affair. It had been left to Donna to keep the family together and they had survived. Not lived – but survived.
As she drove along Davy Road towards her home in Trudy Place, Donna caught her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Her hair was in need of a wash after she had run her hands through it for most of the past few hours and her make-up was now non-existent, leaving her skin looking sallow. Her eyes felt dry and ready to close and it wasn’t even five o’clock yet.
Finally home, she parked outside the house and raced up the path. The cul-de-sac had seen some comings and goings over the years, yet when Joe had left, she’d never felt the need to move on as well. Even though some people didn’t stay around for long, Donna knew and liked most of the neighbours, and the others she tolerated, or else complained about to the housing authority.
The cul-de-sac was made up of forty semi-detached houses, with two blocks of flats at its head and a large grassed area that caused no end of trouble with the kids using it as a football field. Today, it was awash with people enjoying the August sunshine. Donna could hear squeals of delight coming from a few children who were playing with water bombs.
‘All right, Donna?’ Rita Manning, her next door neighbour shouted over to her.
Donna looked over the waist-high hedge. Rita was sitting on the front door step, wearing a long black vest that showed several rolls of fat and a denim skirt that was far too short, pale white legs stretched out in front of her.
‘I’m fine.’ Donna continued towards the house.
‘Only I heard your Sam’s been having a cutting time.’
Donna stopped in her tracks and turned to Rita. ‘Keep that out of my business.’ She put a finger on her nose. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you.’
‘All right, keep your hair on.’ Rita took another drag before flinging her cigarette butt into the wilderness that was once a garden. ‘Can’t say anything around here.’
Donna ignored her and went into the house. News as usual had travelled fast and Rita was only after the gossip. Maybe she should have told her that Sam had lost his hand and seen how much she would have exaggerated it by the time the gossip came back to her. Knowing Rita, Sam would be on a life support machine with no legs, as well as having a missing hand, rather than just an injury to it. Rita could spread gossip around anywhere, truth or lie.
‘Keera? Donna shouted, closing the front door behind her. ‘Are you home?’
‘Yes.’ Keera appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘How’s Sam?’
‘I left him swearing at the top of his voice, saying they’re all a bunch of sadists.’ Donna joined her daughter in the kitchen, plonking her car keys down on the table.
‘Bloody typical, especially as it’s his fault.’
Donna listened as Keera moaned about Sam, knowing it was a light-hearted jibe. She was only trying to make her feel better. And, despite Keera thinking that Sam got away with too much, Donna would always defend her son. She was well aware that she let him get away with more than she would Keera, and knew for the most part that it infuriated Keera, too. Still, they were quite close, even though they were half siblings, so maybe Sam would confide in her if he needed any help.
She listened as Keera made a cup of tea. Looks-wise, the two of them were similar in many ways and just by glancing at Keera, Donna was reminded how old and tired she looked in comparison to her fresh youth. Keera was thin and petite, her hair and skin dark like her father’s. At the moment, her hair was cut into a short bob and dyed a vibrant red, with the odd black streak here and there. Even though it was hot enough to melt foundation off, she wore a full face of make-up. The tan from her recent stay in Ibiza was clearly visible in her skimpy clothing; Keera never missed an opportunity to show off.
‘I had to buy him pyjamas.’ Donna lifted a carrier bag before putting that down on the table too. ‘I don’t think Sam has worn them in years but I’m not having him walking around in those hospital ones. They make him look like he’s escaped from an institution.’
‘He belongs in one.’ Keera shook her head. ‘Fancy doing something as stupid as that. Was he any better when you left?’
‘Actually, he was in a right state.’ Donna pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I don’t know what on earth possessed him to mess around with chainsaws but the surgeon said if they can’t repair the severed tendon, his finger will hang down uselessly and get in the way. If that’s the case, he said they’d be better removing it.’
‘Ohmigod!’ Keera sat down too. She reached for her mum’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. ‘When will they know for sure?’
‘He’s on the emergency list for surgery – tonight, as soon as they can fit him in.’ For the umpteenth time that day, Donna’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Whatever they can or can’t do, Sam is going to be permanently scarred. We’re going to have to be there for him. It could start him off on a downward spiral and I don’t think I could cope with another one.’
Sam had gone off the rails in his late teens, causing Donna ample grief from the police as well as the neighbours. Several times, Josie Mellor, the housing officer from Mitchell Housing Association, had called them both in to see her, threatening eviction from their home if things didn’t stop. But Sam had continued to cause a nuisance, mixing with the wrong crowd and getting into more trouble. Donna had been worried that he’d end up in prison if he wasn’t careful, but the death of one of the local girls, Rachel Bradley, in 2012, had led to the lowest point for Sam. Rachel had been stabbed by another young girl. They had both been rival members of gangs, and fighting each other for top dog had got out of hand. Rachel
had been running from Stacey and was murdered in her garden, seconds from the safety of her front door.
Until that moment, Donna had never told anyone who Sam’s dad was, not even Joe. But because Pete Bradley had conned her into doing a dodgy favour for him at the same time, the truth had come out that he was Sam’s father too.
It had all come about when Pete had wanted to get his own back on a friend of his, John Williams. He’d persuaded Donna to pretend that Sam was John’s son. She had known John from school so it was easy to make up the tale.
She wasn’t quite sure now why she had gone along with it, and afterwards she’d been quite ashamed, because Sam had then gone on to rob John’s house after Pete paid him. Pete’s wife, Gina, had heard overheard Sam talking about the burglary and had put two and two together as to why. When questioned, Pete had admitted having an affair with Donna. He and Gina had separated soon after that.
Having thought that Joe was his biological dad, Sam had taken his anger out on Donna, not speaking to her for over six months. He’d started to drink heavily and dabble with drugs.
It was Keera that had managed to persuade Sam to visit their mum again and they’d had a good talk about everything. There had been tears and anger from them both, regret on her part too. But she had only done what she’d thought was best at the time. Once Sam saw this, credit where it was due, he’d got help and cleaned himself up. Donna had thought that with his volatile nature he would revert to his normal habits over time, but thankfully he hadn’t. He still wouldn’t get a proper job, though.
‘Apparently, he’s been very lucky.’ Donna’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘The blade sliced through the knucklebone. He was wearing the right gloves for the job, though Lord knows where he got them. But the protective meshing inside them, plus the fragments of his bone, will need to be cleaned out of the wound during the operation.’ She shuddered. ‘Then the surgeon will try and stitch back the tendon to see if they can save his finger.’
‘Euw, sounds hideous,’ said Keera. ‘And painful. Are you going back to see him this evening?’