August 1996 – The Bed

She was only a tiny tot, but the little girl had got used to the regular routine. She wriggled out of her Winnie the Pooh car seat herself and waited for her daddy to open the car door. Filled by a sense of enormous pride at having worked out how to press the red button, to undo the seatbelt.

Her father picked her up and swung her down in a gentle arc on to the delineated tarmac of the crowded car park. They held hands and walked slowly and in silence to the front of the low set, red brick, 1980’s building. The doors swished open and the smell immediately assaulted the girl’s nostrils. It was a strange combination of food and disinfectant.

Their footsteps sounded kind of muffled on the shiny corridor floor. The decor was dull. The walls were a dirty shade of cream. The floor covering alternated between dismal grey and a fading pale green. But she knew where she was going; the familiarity of a regular visitor. It was left at the end, sharp right, stand in front of the bank of shiny metal doors and press button 4. Getting out of the lift, the side room she was looking for was second on the right.

Her father always stopped by the desk first though. He liked to talk to the nice lady in the shiny blue coat. But this time, the woman didn’t bend down to talk to the small girl as usual. Her face looked serious and a tiny bit scary. The lady was shaking her head. And then reached out her arms and the little girl’s father crumpled into them. He let out a low moan. The girl didn’t like the sound, not one little bit.

Her father turned to her with tears flowing down his cheeks and held his hand out. He guided her into the room and held her up to the only occupant. The man moved her forward, and lifted her up in the air so she could embrace the prone figure in the bed. She was warm and smelled just like normal. She was also dead. She was Chloe’s mummy.