by Rebecca Bryn
‘You’re doing very well. Someone will be with you in six minutes.’
Her fingers were cramping. She wasn’t sure Saffy could even breathe, pressed against her, and she couldn’t check without letting Tony bleed to death. Tony wouldn’t want her to sacrifice Saffy for him. ‘I can’t…’
‘Hang in there. Keep up the pressure. Is the child responding?’
‘I can’t tell. I can’t feel her moving.’
‘Keep her as still as you can. You’re doing really well. Help will be with you in five minutes.’ A low thrumming sounded off to the east. A shape like a giant dragonfly loomed, black against the orange orb of the sun. The voice at her feet spoke again. ‘Can you see the Air Ambulance, yet?’
‘Yes!’ The dragonfly came out of the sun and circled. It was red, not black, and it swung closer, the rotor blades whumping through the air, as if looking for them. She wanted to jump to her feet and wave at it, but she kept her fingers pressed hard against Tony’s chest, closing the wound around the knife blade. ‘It’s seen us. It’s seen us.’ It moved away slightly, and hovered for a moment before slowly descending. ‘It’s landing now.’
‘Okay. You’re in safe hands. Goodbye, and good luck.’
‘Thank you.’ Tears flooded down her cheeks.
Two of the policemen were escorting Rhiannon down the hill towards the road. A paramedic ran towards her a bag in his hand, and knelt beside her. ‘What’s his name?’
‘What?’
‘His name?’
The noise of the engine faded, the blades stilled. ‘Tony. Tony Maskell.’
‘Okay, I’ve got him. You can let go, now.’ Her fingers refused to move. ‘Tony… can you hear me?’ He gently replaced her hands with his and kept pressure on the wound. He shouted to the pilot, who ran towards them carrying bits of equipment.
Another paramedic arrived as she moved her coat to check on Saffy. ‘I’m Paul. What’s her name?’
‘Saffy. She’s cold. So cold.’
‘And you are?’
‘Alana… she’s my daughter.’
‘I need to put a tube in her nose, Alana, and give Saffy oxygen to help her breathe. Do you understand?’
‘She’s alive?’
‘Yes.’
She held her while he fixed the tube. She looked so pale.
‘Now I need to wrap her in this survival blanket. Can I take her?’
Her arms wouldn’t co-operate.
‘It’s okay. It will help keep her warm. Let me take her.’
She released her grip. Her arms had never felt so empty. ‘Paul…’
‘I’m doing everything I can for her.’ Paul wrapped Saffy like a papoose. He looked at her, then. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No, I’m fine.’
He helped her to her feet and cradled the small bundle. ‘Can you walk?’
Her legs moved like blancmange. ‘Yes. I think so.’
‘Let’s get you both to the helicopter.’ He turned to the pilot who was carrying a stretcher towards Tony. ‘Geoff, we’re good to go.’
She wanted to run to the helicopter with Saffy: she wanted to stay with Tony, who lay motionless on the cold ground. The other paramedic knelt at his side and a policeman held a bag of fluids in the air. A tube fed him the fluids and, like Saffy, more tubes went into his nose and mouth. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
‘He’s in safe hands. Saffy’s our priority. We have to go.’
‘We can’t leave him.’
‘Another helicopter is on its way. Andy, here, will stay with him.’
‘But suppose…’ She might never see him again, alive. She sank to her knees beside him. ‘Tony…’ His eyes were closed and blood soaked his shirt, but Andy had sealed the wound and stopped the bleeding. He was deathly pale, his breathing laboured, erratic. Andy held up a large needle: he inserted it into Tony’s chest, near the wound, and his breathing settled into a slow rhythm. She gripped Tony’s limp hand, her voice urgent. ‘Tony, I love you. I need you.’ Her lips lingered on his forehead. ‘Hang on, Tony, please. Saffy needs you, too.’
A hand under her elbow supported her to her feet. The helicopter engine pitch rose to a whine: the rotor blades gained speed, blowing her hair across her eyes. The paramedic picked her forgotten mobile from the ground and handed it to her. ‘Let’s get you and Saffy into the helicopter.’
Strapped in, and Saffy wired to monitors, the helicopter lifted slowly into the air. The pilot spoke into his radio. ‘Casualty is a two-year-old child with hypothermia. Estimate arrival at Cardiff University Hospital in forty-one minutes.’
As the helicopter swung towards the east and the ground dropped away, Tony and the paramedic became a distant tableau, dwarfed by the stone circle and the wild moorland that surrounded it. She craned her neck for a last view as they became a tiny scarlet speck, blurred by her tears, and finally disappeared. She wiped a knuckle across the corners of her eyes. Only then did she realise that her hands were red with Tony’s blood.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alana sent up a prayer to the god of innocent children. Saffy’s face was ghostly white, her skin almost translucent, fragile. She tore her eyes from her daughter’s face to check her watch. Thirty-eight minutes into the flight and still no sign of her recovering consciousness. Thirty-eight minutes when Saffy could be losing her battle for life, and Tony could be dead… Had the second Air Ambulance even found him? He’d looked like a needle in a haystack from the helicopter, apart from the bright-red jacket of the paramedic. Whatever the outcome, she made a silent promise to make a donation to the Wales Air Ambulance charity as soon as she could afford it, though nothing could repay what they’d done for her today.
Below her the cityscape revolved, the buildings and streets growing in size.
‘ETA three minutes.’ The pilot’s voice was calm and confident.
The helipad was below them now. A group of people waited to one side, faces turned upwards. The ground came up to meet her with a soft bump and Paul threw open the door. By the time she’d unbuckled her restraints and leapt down the steps, Saffy was on a trolley and Paul was machine-gunning statistics. The team of medics hustled Saffy towards the hospital entrance. She gave Paul a brief hug and broke into a run.
‘Good luck, Alana.’ The helicopter door slammed shut behind her and the rotor blades picked up speed.
The doors of the Accident and Emergency’s resuscitation area swung closed in her face. She barged through them.
A nurse barred her way. ‘I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait outside.’
Banks of machines flashed numbers and bleeped. She couldn’t see Saffy for the team of doctors and nurses surrounding her. ‘She’s my daughter. I need to be here.’
The nurse ushered her towards the door. ‘I’ll take you to the relatives’ room. We’ll need a medical history. Someone to come and talk to you.’
‘She’s peripherally shut down… can’t get intravenous access.’ A man’s voice. ‘How long was this child exposed?’
The nurse stopped with her hand on the door. ‘Do you know how long Saffy was out in the cold?’
‘All night. She was on the moors all night.’
The man nodded and held out his hand, palm upwards. ‘Intraosseous needle.’
She bit her fingernail. ‘What are they doing?’
The man looked across at her and the nurse, a huge needle in his hand. ‘Get her out of here.’
‘They’re doing their job. Come on. You can help Saffy most, now, by telling us what we need to know.’
She sank onto a chair in the relatives’ room and held her head in her hands. Suppose Saffy died. Suppose Tony died. Mum had warned her not to bring Saffy to Wales. This was punishment for rejecting her as a baby. She promised the god of bad mothers she’d be the best mother Saffy could have, if she lived.
A hand on her shoulder roused her. ‘You’re the mother of the little girl with hypothermia?’
‘Yes. Is she alright?’
The woman smile
d reassuringly. ‘She’s in the best possible hands. I need to take details.’
Name and address she could manage, though the woman had to ask her twice.
‘Who’s her GP?’
‘We’ve only just moved to Pembrokeshire. We don’t have a doctor, yet.’
‘Who was she with, before?’
‘I don’t know. Mum dealt with all that.’ She’d never bothered to ask.
‘Any medical conditions?’
‘I don’t know.’ She should have taken an interest, at least.
‘Allergies?’
‘Sorry…’ She called herself a mother?
‘Is she on any medication?’
‘I’ve no idea. I don’t think so. I should have left her with Mum. This is all my fault.’
The nurse paused her writing. ‘Has Saffy been admitted to hospital before?’
‘Not as far as I know. Mum would know.’
‘You’d better give me your mother’s phone number. I’ll check with her. You might like her to be here, anyway? Or I could call the child’s father for you? He should be here.’
She’d never needed her mother with her like she needed her now. Why had she insisted on knowing the truth? Why couldn’t she have left well alone? She reeled off Mum’s phone number. ‘But she’s probably in police custody. And I expect Dad is too. Saffy’s father doesn’t know she exists, and he mustn’t.’
The nurse raised her eyebrows questioningly.
She rubbed the top of her head with both hands and sighed tiredly. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘And Saffy was out all night?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where was this?’
‘On the moors… Pembrokeshire…’
‘Did she get lost?’
‘She was abducted.’
The woman frowned. ‘This has been reported?’
‘Yes… the police were involved in the search. My fiancé… he was stabbed protecting her. She’s not even his child and he was prepared to give his life…’ She swallowed a sob. ‘The Air Ambulance should have taken him to Morriston Hospital, according to the helicopter pilot.’ She covered her face with her hands unable to control the heaving sobs any longer.
A gentle hand rubbed her back. ‘What’s your fiancé’s name?’
‘Tony. Tony Maskell.’
‘I’ll see if I can find out how he is. Why don’t you go and get a cup of tea?’
‘What if Saffy…’
‘Someone will be out to talk to you very soon. Get that cup of tea. Have something to eat, if you can. You have to stay strong for Saffy and Tony. Is there anyone I can call for you?’
‘No, thank you. If you can find out about Tony?’ She patted her pocket. Her mobile was still there. Food probably wouldn’t stay down but she’d find a coffee machine, somewhere, and hurry back. ‘I’ll phone my friends.’
‘I’ll try to locate your mother for the medical history. And there’s a washroom down the corridor if you want to clean up.’
She still had Tony’s blood on her hands.
***
Alana sat in the relatives’ room and thumbed in Greg’s number, desperate for a friend to talk to. ‘Greg, it’s Alana.’
‘Where are you?’
How much did he know? ‘I’m at Cardiff… Saffy’s in hospital… hypothermia?’
‘God, Alana. Is she going to be alright?’
She gulped back a sob. ‘I don’t know, Greg. Rhiannon stabbed Tony. I don’t know…’
‘Maddy’s with me. We’re coming straight away… Maddy, Alana’s at the hospital. Saffy and Tony…’
‘Let me talk to her.’ Maddy’s voice was faint. ‘Alana. Which hospital?
‘Cardiff University… paediatric ICU.’
‘And Tony?’
‘They were taking him to Morriston, Swansea. I haven’t heard how he is.’
‘What do you need us to bring?’
‘I… I can’t think.’
‘We’ll go to The Haggard and pick up some essentials. Where do you keep the spare key?’
She’d moved it from under the stone on the wall after the eye at the window. ‘The spare’s in the house. The key… either Tony has them, or they’re still in the Mini’s ignition… unless the police secured the car and took them.’
‘Can you phone the police and find out? Authorise them to give me the keys? Otherwise we’ll have to try and get them from Tony, somehow, or break in.’
‘I’ll phone you back.’
She rang the number DC Flowers had given her a lifetime ago. They had secured the car and taken the keys. She explained where she was and gave authority for them to give the keys to Greg or Maddy, and then rang Greg back.
‘We’re on our way, Alana.’
She put her mobile away and stared at the door, willing it to open, but her heart still thumped erratically when it did. She leapt to her feet.
‘Miss Harper?’
‘Yes. Is Saffy…’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. I understand you wanted to know about Tony Maskell?’
‘Is he okay?’
‘He’s been taken to Morriston Hospital, Swansea, with a stab wound. He’s undergoing emergency surgery for a suspected tear to the spleen. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more at the moment.’
‘But he’s alive.’ She sank onto her chair and let out a breath. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s no trouble. I’ll keep you updated but it may be some time before I know anything.’
Staring at the door resumed. Minutes dragged like hours. She got up and looked out of the window and then began pacing the room. The door opened again. She recognised the nurse who’d brought her here.
‘Saffy…’
‘She’s still very poorly.’
‘But she’s going to be alright?’
‘The next twenty-four hours will be critical. She’s in warming blankets, she’s being ventilated with warm humidified oxygen and we’re giving her warmed intravenous fluids. She’s being closely monitored. We won’t know until she regains consciousness what damage has been done.’
Her hands were shaking. ‘Damage? What kind of damage?’
‘Below-normal temperatures can help prevent brain injury. She has a good chance of recovery.’
‘I’ll never forgive myself if she’s brain damaged. Can I see her?’
‘She’s being taken to Paediatric ICU. You can be with her there. I’ll take you now.’
She waited by the door to the ICU ward, aware of the camera watching her. She looked as if she’d been sleeping rough, the mirror in the toilets had shown her that. She wouldn’t be surprised if they refused to let her in, or called social services.
The nurse pressed the buzzer for her. ‘Miss Harper, Saffy Harper’s mum, to see Saffy.’ The door clicked and the nurse pushed it open. ‘She’ll look worse than she is, so be prepared.’ She pointed to a dispenser on the wall inside. ‘Use the disinfectant on your hands.’
The nurse turned away and the door clicked shut behind her. The air was warm on her skin and smelt strongly of disinfectant. Monitors flashed, beeped and alarmed, underscored with a quiet, regular shushing sound. A row of cots stood against walls decorated with bright murals of animals.
A nurse beckoned to her. Saffy’s face was barely visible, her body cocooned in the warming blankets. A tube was inserted into each nostril and, from beneath the blankets tubes and wires led off in all directions. She looked like a small fly, trapped at the centre of a spider’s web.
She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. Saffy was deathly white, and so small and helpless: so untouchable.
‘You can hold her hand. Talk to her.’
She moved closer. Saffy’s hand was warmer than the last time she’d held it. She curled tiny limp fingers round her thumb, willing her to squeeze it. ‘Mummy’s here, Saffy.’ She looked at the nurse who was watching the monitors. ‘She will be okay. She has to be.’
The nurse smiled. ‘The paediatric consultant will be able to
tell you more. He’s been delayed by another emergency but he’ll come and speak to you as soon as he’s free. Try not to worry. Children are remarkably resilient, and I have a feeling this one’s a tough little cookie.’
She sat holding Saffy’s hand until her arm went dead. Her stomach rumbled and she looked at her watch. No wonder she felt light-headed: she’d had nothing to eat since the night before. Fainting from hunger wouldn’t help Saffy, and Greg and Maddy wouldn’t know where to find her.
‘My friends should be arriving soon. If I ring them from outside will I be able to come back in here?’
‘Just buzz when you’re ready. We’ll let you in.’
‘I don’t want to miss the consultant.’
‘Leave your mobile number and we’ll ring you when he arrives. He has other patients to see so he’ll be here for a while.’
She kissed Saffy’s forehead, left her mobile number with the nurse at the desk and let herself out into the cool of the corridor. She thumbed Greg’s number. ‘Greg? Where are you?’
‘Parking the car. How’s Saffy?’
‘As well as can be expected. She’s in Paediatric ICU but I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.’
‘Any news on Tony?’
‘He’s having surgery for a tear in his spleen. That’s all I know.’
The cafeteria was busy. She queued tiredly for a sandwich and a cup of tea. She spotted Maddy, laden with bags, grabbing a table by the window. She paid for her snack and joined her.
‘You look exhausted, Alana.’
‘I didn’t sleep last night. Tony and I were out before dawn.’
‘I brought some essentials in case you’re staying here tonight? We can drive you home and bring you back tomorrow if you like.’
‘I’ll stay here, thanks. I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to.’
Greg joined them with cups of coffee. ‘You look knackered, Alana.’
‘I feel so bloody helpless.’
‘They’ll be alright. They’re both in good hands.’ They were platitudes but Greg was only trying to stay positive.
DC Flowers approached. He looked as exhausted as she felt. ‘They told me in ICU that you’d gone to get something to eat. How are they both?’
‘I don’t really know… Tony’s in surgery. Saffy seems to be holding her own. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’