Chapter 33

Steven fell to his knees at Becca's side. He took one of her hands.

"Becca, darling," he said softly but urgently. "Becca!"

He noticed her ashen face and bent forward to listen to her breathing. It was fast and shallow. He felt her pulse. That too was fast and weak.

"Get an ambulance," he ordered.

Molly fled to Mrs Bentham's study. She knocked on the door but did not wait for an answer. The room was empty. She dialled 999.

"Fire, Police or Ambulance?"

"Ambulance."

"Emergency Ambulance."

"St Nathan's Nursery School, Grimethorpe Road. Girl fell and banged her head on a tile floor. She's unconscious and dead pale."

"OK. It's on its way."

"What are you doing in here, Molly?" asked Mrs Bentham not unkindly or crossly.

"Becca's had a horrid accident. She hit her head on the kitchen floor and's unconscious. I've just rung for an ambulance."

"Oh my! Well done, dear! Let's see if I can help. How did it happen?"

"She ran to greet her Uncle Steven who'd come to visit us and slipped on something and went an absolute pearler."

They had reached the kitchen by this stage. Steven was still kneeling by Becca whispering to her. The girls were standing round miserably and in silence, anxiety etched on their faces.

Mrs Bentham knelt on the other side of Becca. "You must be Uncle Steven," she said gently.

He nodded. "Steven Hardacre."

"Valerie Bentham, Headmistress. She's obviously out cold. What else?"

"I don't want to move her head in case she has damaged her neck but she hit her head a hell of a bang. Sorry."

Mrs Bentham smiled. "Go on," she said.

"Breathing rapid and shallow. Pulse rapid and weak."

"Hmm. There's nothing we can do but we ought to keep her warm."

She rose to her feet and left the room. Steven continued to talk to Becca. Mrs Bentham was quickly back with two blankets which she laid over Becca and tucked in against her sides.

"I'd like to put them under her too," she said, "but you're right; we mustn't move her. Molly, I think every one could do with a hot sweet drink."

"Yes, Mrs Bentham. Kim and Dawn."

The two girls nodded and trooped off.

The ambulance arrived before the hot drinks. Becca was carefully lifted onto a stretcher and the team was away again within two minutes. Reaction set in for Steven. He stood there shaking. Mrs Bentham put a steadying arm round him. He smiled gratefully at her.

"I must go to the hospital and see what the prognosis is," he said.

"Not yet you mustn't. You're not fit to drive. Come on. Drink your coffee."

Steven did so and pulled himself together. "Girls," he said. "That was horrid and we're all feeling miserable but you know what Becca would want, don't you?"

They all nodded silently.

"I'll let you all know how she is this evening and when you can start visiting her."

"What about Edward?" Nell asked.

"I'll ring him too."

"And me?" asked Mrs Bentham.

"Yes, of course."

He left.

Molly took a deep breath and let it out again. "OK, girls. We're Becca's Damsels now so let's do what she would want. Chop! Chop!"

The girls went silently back to work. Mrs Bentham moved from one to another giving them comfort and encouragement. Slowly the mood lightened.

Steven reported to Reception at The Infirmary. He told the receptionist who he was and about Becca. The receptionist asked him to take a seat and she would let him know what the form was as soon as she could. He did as he was told thinking how drab and depressing waiting rooms were. He was desperately worried. He had learned a little about first aid and weak, fast pulses and rapid, shallow breathing were far from healthy. If only he had never visited then this would never have happened. He ought to have warned he was coming. Reason told him that it could have happened anyway and to any of the girls. In their rush to get the job done they had become careless about spillages. That did not do him any good and he still blamed himself.

At length, the receptionist came over to him. "She's still unconscious," she said. "She has sustained a depressed fracture of the skull and they are going to operate immediately to relieve pressure on her brain. I'm afraid there won't be any news for at least an hour but as soon as the operation is over and they've got her settled on the ward Mr Lovering, the surgeon, will come and talk to you."

"Thank you." Steven looked at his watch. It was just gone half past twelve but he was not in any way hungry. He decided to walk down to Edward's office and tell him the news personally. After that he would ring Isobel. "I'll be back in an hour," he said to the receptionist. She smiled acknowledgment.

It took him ten minutes to get to Edward's office. Edward came straight down to see him and Steven gave him the news. He went white.

"Oh God!" he murmured. "My darling! My poor little darling." He was silent, staring at the floor. Finally, he looked up.

"Thanks for coming to tell me, Mr Hardacre. I really appreciate it. From what you say there seems little point in haring over to The Infirmary now. I'll drop in after work." He smiled ruefully. "Bang goes our weekend," he added.

Steven nodded. "I'll be there," he said. "May I ask a favour? I ought to ring her aunt, Isobel, and so often public call boxes don't have a directory in them."

"Certainly! Come up to my office and use my phone."

"That's very good of you."

Isobel was aghast and horrified. On the other hand, she remained calm. "There's no point in my coming down to the hospital. There's nothing I can do. Keep me up to date, won't you, Steven dear?"

"I will, I promise."

He traipsed back to The Infirmary. It was only quarter past one. He resumed his seat and picked up a dog-eared magazine. He did not even open it: just stared blankly at it. The receptionist kindly and unasked brought him a cup of tea. He smiled gratefully at her.

It was not until two that the surgeon appeared. Steven had been expecting to see him in theatre clothes but he was immaculate in a suit. He held out his hand.

"Henry Lovering," he said cheerfully. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting but things took a little longer than expected. Would you like to follow me to my office?"

Steven with a nod followed him obediently. He noted with satisfaction the sign on Mr Lovering's door: Head of Neurological Surgery. Mr Lovering showed him to a chair.

"Well, I won't beat about the bush, Mr Hardacre. Your niece is seriously ill. She took quite a bang but despite a depressed fracture of the skull appears to have suffered no brain damage. We did not perform invasive surgery. With her already unconscious I decided it was too risky. Instead we used a vacuum pump on the back of her head and her skull is now back in position. She has however suffered a severe trauma and remains unconscious. In fact she is in a coma."

"Oh God!" breathed Steven.

"Not a deep one though. She is responding to pinpricks but not to voice."

"Will she come out of it?"

"She should do although it may take some days and I can't make any promises other than to say that she does not give me cause for undue concern."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, there is. You can sit with her and talk to her. The sound of a familiar and well loved voice can be a great help in these cases. However, you can't be there all the time for however long it takes."

"There's her aunt and her boyfriend. I'm sure they'd help."