Could It Be Magic?. Melanie Rose
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another. This small child saw past the outward appearance of his mother’s body and into the person inside. I wanted to hug him for joy.
‘Come here, er…Teddy.’ I reached out a hand to him. Some instinct told me to take things very slowly.
He eyed the offered hand suspiciously but I gave him an encouraging smile as he inched a pace or two closer before stopping. Realising he wasn’t going to come any nearer, I fixed my eyes on his. Something in his expression warned me to be as honest as possible with him. ‘You’re right, Teddy. I’m not the same mummy as before. I don’t know what’s happened…’ I ran my gaze over his confused, tear-stained face and felt a gamut of emotions run through me. I felt a deep sympathy for him, gratitude, and a mixture of relief tinged with fear for myself at his reaction. Struggling to find the right thing to say to comfort and reassure him, I shrugged and ended helplessly, ‘It’ll be all right, Teddy. Everything will sort itself out, you’ll see.’
Teddy wiped his nose on the cuff of his blue sweatshirt and sniffed loudly.
‘Don’t be so silly, Teddy,’ Grant said, going over to the boy and picking him up. ‘Come and give Mummy a kiss.’
Grant lifted the boy onto my lap, and I reached out to pat him awkwardly.
Teddy twisted his shoulder away from my touch and scowled at me.
‘Teddy!’ Grant admonished him, giving me an apologetic glance.
‘I don’t mind,’ I said tiredly, not wanting the boy to have to kiss me any more than he seemed to want to do it. ‘None of this is his fault either. This is confusing for all of us.’
The other children ignored the interchange and chatted together while Toby jumped on the bed, jarring my burns until Nurse Sally arrived to change the dressings and suggested to my husband that he take the children home.
‘You look about done in,’ she said when they had gone. She removed one of the pillows and I settled down at last to rest. ‘Try to sleep. You never know, your memory might come back in the morning.’
I was desperate to speak to the doctor again. I had a million questions to ask, but visions of Dr Shakir’s fascinated expression when he’d looked at me set off warning bells in my mind, and I pressed my lips together, nodding obediently. I closed my eyes, realising how tired I really was after the immense shocks of the day. I lay for a while listening to the sounds of the hospital around me: metal trolleys being wheeled, doors creaking open and closed, the soft steps and hushed tones of the night staff as they exchanged news, and then I was asleep.
Yet it seemed no time at all before I was being shaken awake. The nurse bending over me was a different girl. Nurse Sally must be off-duty, I realised dozily as I sat up, accepting the drink that was pressed into my hand. Eyes half-closed, I sipped the warm tea gratefully, feeling the heat and sweetness of it seeping into my being. Reaching out to put the empty cup on the hospital cabinet, I felt the empty space with my hand too late, and both cup and saucer fell with a crash to the floor.
Wriggling into a sitting position, I looked in dismay at the mess. The bedside cabinet wasn’t where it had been when I dropped off to sleep. It was on the opposite side of the bed and it looked somehow different. The silver light of early morning was creeping into the room from a wide window at one end of the ward. A four-bedded ward. I counted the beds with growing disbelief. Had they moved me from my side room in the night?
Alarmed, I found the red buzzer at the head of my hospital bed and buzzed long and hard, my hand shaking with growing confusion.
A male nurse came running.
‘What’s the problem, Ms Taylor?’
My mouth dropped open in astonishment.
‘You called me Ms Taylor,’ I heard myself whisper. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘The man who brought you in found your name and address on your dog’s collar,’ the nurse replied soothingly. ‘Now don’t get yourself all worked up. He said to tell you he’s taken the dog home with him for the time being. He said you weren’t to worry about Frankie, she’s in good hands.’
I felt the wetness on my face and knew I was crying, though no sound escaped my lips. The nurse tut-tutted and patted my hand sympathetically.
‘That’s right, Jessica,’ he said. ‘Have a good cry. You’re probably still in shock from the lightning strike. You’re a very lucky young lady, you know.’
I nodded, leaning my head back on the starched hospital pillows, and gave a deep, shuddering sigh. So it had all been a nightmare. I’d been hit by lightning but the rest of it had been a ghastly, unsettling dream caused by nothing more than the shock of what had happened to me. I was still me, still Jessica Taylor. I peered down at my ringless fingers and wanted to sob for joy.
Glancing up, I watched as the nurse made his way back down the ward in search of a dustpan and brush. There were no small children hiding in the shadows, no husband trying to convince me I was his wife. As soon as the nurse was out of sight, I turned my face into the pillow and wept with relief.
I found it disconcerting to realise how my mind had worked on things while I had slept. In the dream I’d pictured myself much more damaged by the chance lightning strike than it appeared I actually was. In reality, there was no drip in my arm; no heart monitors attached to my chest and no large bandage round my neck and shoulders. It was as if I had prepared myself for the worst, and now I was pleasantly surprised to find myself almost unscathed.
A very young Chinese intern came to see me soon after I’d finished the rather spartan hospital breakfast of cornflakes and toast. He introduced himself as Dr Chin and assured me I’d got off very lightly.
‘The burns to your back and shoulder are minimal,’ he explained. ‘We have dressed the wounds lightly to prevent infection, but they are superficial and should heal in a few days without leaving permanent scarring.’
‘No antibiotics required then?’ I asked.
He shook his head, peering at a chart that had been hanging at the foot of the bed. ‘We only admitted you to the ward because you had not regained consciousness, but your two-hourly observations through the night have proved satisfactory.’
‘Did my heart stop at any time?’ I asked anxiously.
The intern shook his head of sleek black hair. ‘No, no, nothing like that. You are a very strong woman.’ He paused before adding, ‘You sleep very deeply, Ms Taylor. You have been asleep since yesterday. How do you feel now?’
I thought about this for a moment or two, then grinned at him. ‘I feel fine. Can I go home then?’
‘We will wait for the consultant’s ward round,’ he said, nodding. ‘But I am sure everything will be okay.’
He made as if to leave, then turned back to me and smiled. ‘Do you know that once, the Chinese believed lightning to be a very unlucky omen? It was thought that lightning was a sign of God’s disapproval. I do not think you are unlucky, though, Ms Taylor, in fact, I think you had a very lucky escape.’
You are not kidding, I thought, watching him scurry off down the ward. I lay back gingerly against the pillows, careful not to snag the light gauze dressing on my left shoulder. In my mind’s eye I pictured Grant and the four children. They had seemed so real at the time, and I wondered from where I had conjured up their names and images. It occurred to me as my mind drifted into a light doze that it was strange how I could remember the dream so clearly. I gave an involuntary shudder. It also occurred to me that I had indeed had a very lucky escape.
The ward round consisted of four white-coated doctors hovering round a fifth in ascending orders of rank, clustering together round each bed in turn. It was immediately apparent which was the most senior doctor, and, from the obsequious half-bows of Dr Chin, who stood on the furthest outer ring of the gravitational field of the consultant, I ascertained that my doctor was probably the most lowly figure among them. The realisation gave me fresh cause to breathe a sigh of relief.