Effie reached the adventure playground sweating and panting. She quickly found them. A small group of people were huddled round the pair and Rosie was crying with a high pitched frightened sound. Effie threw herself into the crowd calling out: ‘Rosie, gran’ma’s here.’
The little girl was sitting on the ground cradled by her father who was holding a bloody handkerchief to her forehead and trying to sooth the distraught child. Her dark wavy hair was soaked in blood on one side sticking to the child’s white distorted face, her eyes scrunched shut. Bright scarlet stains covered the front of her pale pink t-shirt. Jim was ashen: ‘thank god. I think it’s all right but I can’t tell. It’s all right, darling, it’s all right.’
The small crowd moved aside to let Effie take her place next to the injured child. ‘It’s going to be all right, it’ll be all right.’ Effie took in the situation quickly. The child did not seem to have any broken bones or other injuries apart from the head, and heads, she knew, bled a lot. Jim was explaining.
‘She just tumbled down off the top, hit the side of her head on the metal, a great whack.’
‘It went bang like a drum’ said a solemn-looking little boy standing close to Jim.
A lady tugged at the boy’s arm. ‘Come away now, George’ she said pulling him out from the gawping crowd.
Effie ignored everything but Rosie and slid an arm now round the little girl’s waist, easing the sobbing child on to her lap. ‘Now I need to take a look, Rosie, just a little look so we can make it better.’ She spoke softly but firmly rocking the child now and resting her cheek gently on the side of her head that was not bleeding. Jim held the handkerchief in place and Effie made no attempt to move it until Rosie gradually calmed and the terror left her sobs. She stayed like this for several minutes continuing to rock Rosie as she spoke soothingly. The crowd began to drift off sensing that things were settling and there was no tragedy to stare at.
‘There we go, darling, now I’m just going have a peep and make sure we don’t need to let the doctor have a look. See what you get up to when gran’ma’s not looking.’
‘She just fell. My back was turned for one minute. I don’t think I could have caught her anyway.’
‘No, no, Jim. No one’s fault. Now let’s see, poppet.’ She took the bloody handkerchief from Jim and examined the damage: a nasty gash which was still bleeding. The head bleeds such a lot, she told herself again. ‘I think this one does need a bit more attention, Jim, just to be on the safe side. Now Rosie,’ she addressed her grandchild quietly but seriously. ‘Rosie, we’re going to take you to a special place where a doctor can have a quick look and make you better very quickly.’ Rosie whimpered. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. I promise it won’t hurt and we’ll stay with you. Promise.’
Now that Rosie had calmed down Jim was on the phone trying to get through to Cathy. ‘Damn it. She’s not answering. Where is she?’
‘Never mind, Jim, come on. We’ve got to get this one to the clinic as soon as possible,’ said Effie taking charge, easing Rosie onto her feet. ‘Let’s see if that bleeding stopping.’ She tutted as a sliver of bright red new blood trickled down her cheek. ‘Here, I know what we can do.’ She pulled a flowery silk scarf from her handbag and wound it twice round Rosie’s head covering one eye so that she looked ‘like a pirate’ Effie joked hoping to lighten the child’s mood.
‘And I’ll be your pirate ship’ said Jim as he gathered up his daughter in his arms and strode off towards the car park. By the time they reached it Rosie had stopped crying although she looked pale and shocked so that Effie sat with her on the back seat keeping her arm round her and talking quietly. She fished out a story book from the children’s debris scattered around in the back of the car and started to read as Jim sped off, his phone clamped to one ear as he tried again to contact Cathy. ‘Why the hell doesn’t she answer?’
The experience at the clinic was straightforward enough; a late afternoon lull before incidents involving young people out on the town on a Saturday night kicked in. Jim was tense when they arrived, raising his voice when he heard they would have to wait half an hour or so. ‘Wait!, but she’s only four years old. I think someone should look at her immediately.’
‘But we have, sir. I’ve taken a look and my assessment is that she will be fine until the doctor is free to come and do the sutures.’ The nurse’s voice was patient but firm. No special treatment here, thought Effie. No, you wait your turn. Her role clearly was to keep Jim calm as much as Rosie. She suggested he went and bought them a cup of tea and a juice for Rosie who was sitting quietly and unusually still, her little face white except for smears of now drying blood which Effie thought it was best to leave for fear of upsetting her further. Cleaning up would come later.
Jim returned, his neck crooked to accommodate his phone while he balanced two steaming paper cups and a packet of juice. He was explaining to Cathy. ‘Look, I think it’s OK now, your Mum’s here and they apparently don’t think anything too serious. What?... No, no, she didn’t fall right on her head... she knocked it on the metal side of the slide when she fell.... No, they don’t think she needs an x-ray, at least, that’s what the nurse said.... No, better you stay there with Daisy. I’ll call if any news... yes, I’ll hand it over. She might like to hear your voice.’
Jim held the phone to Rosie’s ear, but the moment she heard her mother’s voice she burst into tearful sobs. ‘Oh don’t cry, darling’. Effie could hear her daughter’s tense voice. ‘Poor darling, it’ll be all right.’ More sobs from Rosie. ‘It’ll be all right, darling...’ Jim took the phone away leaving Effie to comfort the little girl again while he paced up and down continuing his conversation with Cathy, arm and voice raised now. ‘... she just fell, I couldn’t reach her... Yes, Cathy, I did.’ Jim was frowning when he came back to where Effie and Rosie were sitting. His colour was high showing through the tan. Effie tactfully concentrated on trying to soothe Rosie.
‘There, there, my pet,’ she crooned as she rocked Rosie gently. The little rigid body softened and gradually allowed herself to sink into Effie’s chest. ‘We’ll see Mummy very soon. We’ll be home as soon as the doctor’s made it better. Look, daddy brought you some juice. Shall I help you put the straw in? No?’
Effie started humming in rhythm with her rocking motion. Rosie quietened and put her thumb in her mouth. Effie continued to sing softly watching as Rosie’s eyes flickered and then closed. Jim was sitting opposite, bending forward, brow furrowed as her stared at his daughter. ‘She’ll be all right,’ Effie reassured him. ‘Believe me, she’ll be all right. It’s not as bad as it looks.’ And she flashed him a smile which she knew he registered, his blue eyes lifting briefly from his daughter to meet hers.
‘So stupid, Effie. We only went to the damn place because she was making a fuss. So stupid...’
Rosie Cunningham. A voice echoed Rosie’s name round the waiting room. There was a slight stirring and heads looked up briefly. ‘Cubicle three, please’ the voice called. ‘Thank goodness,’ said Jim as he reached down to carry Rosie into the allotted cubicle. Rosie opened her eyes but did not start crying again and the three of them were ushered into the small space by a large smiling nurse. ‘So what have you been up to?’ she beamed at Rosie.
‘Now let’s have a proper look. It won’t hurt but I just need to make sure it’s all clean,’ she intoned as she pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. `The doctor wants to have a look and he’ll be here in a minute. Just finishing stitching someone up next door. That one fell off a ladder trying to reach his cat stuck in a tree. Nearly killed himself’ she cackled. ‘Twenty one stitches.’ She cackled again while Rosie stared wide-eyed. The nurse pulled off the temporary dressing and, still chortling, peered at the gash which had at last stopped bleeding. She dabbed around the wound with cotton wool and a strong smelling liquid. Effie could see Rosie’s lip wobble.
But at that moment diversion arrived in the form of the doctor, a young man with dark hair cut short and glasses who looked as though he was only recently out of medical school but who seemed to know what he was doing and managed to put Rosie at ease by letting her play with his stethoscope. He seemed in no hurry, allowing her to put the earpiece in her ears and hold it against his own chest. ‘See that’s my heart. It’s noisy isn’t it?’ Rosie smiled for the first time since the accident. ‘OK, then, Rosie. Now I want you to be very grown- up and lie still while I fix that nasty cut you’ve got. I’m going to give you something so it doesn’t hurt.’ He turned to Jim. ‘Do you want to stay?
‘Yes of course. I’ll hold her hand.’
‘Fine. Let’s get on with it then.’
So Jim sat at the head of the bed holding Rosie’s hand while the doctor and nurse busied themselves with the medical paraphernalia. Effie sat at the bottom of the bed, wishing it was over and they could go home. She hated seeing the little girl in such pain and distress. Yes, hard to think about, and as a diversion she let herself calculate how many stitches the doctor would stitch in a lifetime assuming he did twenty to thirty stitches every hour for maybe twelve hours a week for x number of years. She briefly drifted off into four figures when she was aroused from her ruminations by Jim who staggered past her looking white.
‘Sorry, Effie. Need some air. Can you take over?’
Effie edged round to take his place at Rosie’s head. ‘So what happened?’
‘Oh, I think he felt a bit faint,’ said the doctor not raising his head, intent on his work. ` Not easy for parents to see their nearest and dearest stitched up. Fainting at the sight of blood’s quite common.’ He laughed and gave Effie a quick glimpse. `I don’t imagine it’s the first time you’ll have seen someone’s sutures?’
In other words, I’d better not faint too, thought Effie. ` No I’ll be fine,’ she said squeezing Rosie’s hand. Rosie responded by gripping hers firmly. But she stayed still and quiet and did not seem to be in obvious pain. Good girl, thought Effie. She knows when to co-operate. So keep talking, keep her distracted. And so Effie talked about the earlier afternoon and the big ice-creams they had devoured and her new friend and the house they had made together and the fact that the sun was shining (even though it had gone now) and how bulbs she had planted with her grandmother were now flowering, yellow tulips, Rosie’s favourite colour because it made her think of sunshine and the lovely golden sand they had seen last summer when they went on holiday down to Cornwall, and so on until the doctor snipped his last piece of thread and raise his head with a satisfied ‘there we are, Rosie. All done. Five lovely stitches. I’ve made them as small as possible,’ he said addressing Effie. ‘you’ll need to come back next week and have the nurse take them out but after that there should be very little scarring. Children’s skin is very good at recovering. And you, young lady, are my star patient today.’ Rosie, now sitting up, grimaced but Effie knew she was pleased and the colour was coming back into her cheeks.
‘Yes, an absolute star. I wish some of my grown up patients were as good as you. Here...’ he swivelled round in his chair to fish around in a drawer from which he produced a jar of brightly wrapped sweeties. ‘You deserve one of these.’
After a moment of hesitation Rosie reached out her hand and rummaged around until she found one in a shiny golden wrapper.
‘I’m sure she’s allowed’ said the doctor, looking at Effie again. ‘A bit of sugar’ll do her good after all she’s been through. But you be careful now, Rosie. No more falling off slides. Off you go.’
And that was that. What had briefly seemed like a tragedy had shrunk to more of a minor incident in Rosie’s short life. The doctor did not think a scan was necessary nor that there would be any further problems. He advised Effie to keep her quiet for a couple of days and just to be vigilant lest there were any sudden or persistent headaches. He’s speaking to me as though I’m her mother, she thought as they exited the cubicle. She had almost forgotten about Jim and was surprised to see him sitting outside slumped in a chair. He still looked pale and quite shattered in contrast to Rosie who was beginning to recover her spirits and was happily chewing her sweetie.
‘thank god she’s all right! Come here, darling. Let me give you a hug’ and he reached out to pull her towards him. ‘I’m so sorry,Effie. I just couldn’t stand the sight of him sticking that needle thing into Rosie. So sorry.’ He hugged her even more tightly until she protested. ‘Daddy. y. y... wan’a go home now. I wan’a see Mummy.’
‘Sure, let’s go’ and off they set, Jim holding one of Rosie’s hands and Effie the other. Now that all was well Effie could let herself enjoy the nice feeling of being with two people she loved and with a good sense that she had been helpful, secretly grateful – awful thought – that nothing terrible had happened while she had been in charge.
She did not stay long once they got back to the house. Cathy was waiting anxiously and quickly enveloped Rosie in her arms, while even Daisy seemed pleased to see her sister in one piece and readily admired the stitches that Rosie showed off. Jim’s colour had returned and he recounted the story while Cathy tutted occasionally as she rocked Rosie on her lap.
‘Your mother was great’ came a full compliment from Jim as he rounded off the story ‘I don’t know what I’d’ve done without her.’ He spoke quietly but as though he really meant it, looking straight at Effie with those lovely kind blue eyes of his. Grateful eyes, thought Effie, nodding in response. It was good to be appreciated by her family. She had noticed that Jim had not mentioned fainting in the clinic. It had not been a good afternoon for him and the episode was between her and him, unless Rosie said something which she didn’t think she would.
Time to go home, to her own home. She turned down the offer of a lift from Jim. No, she’d rather get some fresh air on a fine evening. She also experienced a definite feeling that it would be unwise to accept such an offer. So she made her farewells and walked herself down to the bus stop, picking a daisy as she went so that she could pluck off the petals, counting them to see if she could guess the number.