The Paramedic's Daughter
Page 20
I pushed her. Shoved her so hard that I actually heard her body crash against each step as she tumbled down. I heard her head smack against the banister before one final crack on the uncarpeted floor. It was instant. Watching from the top of the stairs, I knew she was gone. The blood oozing from her head was the first telltale sign. The next was checking her pulse; yes, I went through the motions, it was easier that way. Then, when I called 999 there were fewer lies to tell. It also helped that there were three bottles of wine in the bin.
It was a terrible accident.
Mum always found it amazing that so many of her patients faced the same accidents yet came out the other end with such different injuries. She had said, ‘How can some people walk away from a four-car collision with merely a scratch, but others can innocently trip over, bang their head and die instantly? How do cancer and dementia and multiple sclerosis attack people’s bodies in such different ways that it gives each of them a completely unique quality – or lack thereof – of life?’ I now add: how can someone fall down the stairs and break a leg or an arm, yet a paramedic can tumble down one flight and bash their head and neck in such a way that it’s a fatal accident?
It was such a terrible accident.
At first, the police assumed I should have been able to save my mum. Stop the bleeding, perform CPR, probably fucking operate on her because, you know, I’m Rose the Paramedic’s Daughter. And that’s how it’s presented, like a full name: it’s my first name and surname. Like she defines me. Growing up was different. I was young and gullible and thought that title brought me something. Power? Respect? Now I know it means nothing. It’s just another way for me to be controlled.
You know, I’m more than who my mum was – or what she did. I’m a student, I’m an aspiring writer, I’m… I’m… for crying out loud, I’m a woman who was raped by their father, a man I was attracted to, a man I wanted to kiss, a man who, at first anyway, was someone I lusted over and dreamt about. Most importantly, a man I thought was my boyfriend’s father – not mine.
So, even if I could have saved her, I wouldn’t have. Why would I? The push wasn’t an accident. Yes, I saw red, but I knew exactly what I was doing. I thought it would free me, free me from the anger and hatred that I had been directing towards her. It just redirected it. To Patrick. To Dylan. But mostly, to my grandmother. The old woman knew. She told me last night before the funeral, said she needed to get it off her chest, to feel free. Free. Well, sadly I don’t have that luxury to indulge in, Gran. She knew the truth. She could have saved me, but she chose to stick by my mother’s lie – even before the blasted dementia.
The hospice manager has allowed my grandmother to stay with me tonight, at my mother’s home. He said that it would be comforting for us to be together at this awful time. Comforting… yeah, right. I hope there isn’t another awful accident tonight.
My mother has destroyed me. My mother’s lie has brought my internal beast to the surface.
Acknowledgments
This is the hardest part of the writing journey for me. I have so many people to thank – especially for this book, which has been a long time coming.
The Paramedic’s Daughter is a book I’ve wanted to write for some time now. Abi, mainly, has been brewing in my mind for well over a year. Her story and experiences have changed dramatically since I began writing, and that’s the joy of letting the characters take over. However, with that joy comes the need to be authentic – even more so because of the profession she’s in. For that authenticity, I have to thank my long-time friend Laura Fraser. The paramedic herself who fact-checked the entire book, while organising her wedding – you are a true star and deserve all the monkey hugs. I must also thank Jo Edwards who came to my rescue when a specific part of the book needed clarifying – it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.
To the team at Bloodhound Books, you are amazing. Betsy, I can’t thank you enough for helping me to have confidence in my writing voice. To Sumaira, Alexina, Heather and Fred for the friendships, encouragement, laughs and patience – big thanks. To my cover designer, editor and proofreader, thank you for helping me make this book shine.
This book is very different to my DI Hamilton series, but it was greeted with the same enthusiasm and excitement from a very special group of people. So it’s with a lot of love that I thank the bloggers who took part in the tour: Kat Everett, Noelle Holten, Shell Baker, Sarah Hardy, Claire Knight, Kate Moloney, Kim Nash, Kaisha Holloway and Lesley Budge, as well as all the amazing people in my ARC group. Your love of reading, and the continued support you give, blows me away.
Special mention to my beta readers Maria Lee, Audrey Gibson and Mark Fearn, and also to Tammie Ferguson who won a competition on my author Facebook page to name a character. Thanks to you, we have Sadie.
To my dear friends who lift my spirits on a daily basis, who show me nothing but support and encouragement and who are always checking in to see how the writing is coming along or how the editing is going – I send you ‘good vibes only’.
Lastly, to my amazing family. I wouldn’t be able to continue doing what I love if it weren’t for you. Abi and Rose’s relationship may have been a strained one – to say the least – but I’m thankful every day for the bond I have with my mum; the woman who taught me everything I know, the woman who made me who I am today and the woman who puts her life on hold to help me whenever she can. Just as I was finishing the last draft of this book, we had a new arrival join us – five days earlier than expected – and so three became four. Daniel, Leo and Sofia, this is for you.