Claudia started forward, desperate to get through the smoke and crowd as her mother was carried out of the smoldering front door. She was hauled back; the paramedics needed space, focus, no family emotions.
Noxious clouds swirled around them. Someone shouted that the fire was out. Jasmine clung to her, and Claudia choked on a sob of terror. How badly was her mother injured? Were they going to save her?
Through the mayhem, everything seeming surreal in the strange, smoky light, she caught glimpses of Marcy being lifted on to a spinal board, a respirator and IV tubes already attached . . . She must still be alive.
“I need to go with her,” Claudia cried, as the stretcher was hoisted into the back of a paramedic vehicle to be sped to the helicopter that had just landed at the edge of the moor.
A fireman grabbed her. “You can’t,” he yelled over the noise. “She’s in good hands . . .”
“Where are they taking her?” Claudia shouted back, so traumatized she hardly knew what she was asking.
“Swansea. It’s . . .”
“Why Swansea?” she almost screamed.
The fireman moved off; someone had called from inside the house, and she was suddenly being wrapped in blankets and led away from the heart of the melee. Pulling Jasmine close, she clung to her in stunned despair. “We have to do something,” she muttered, but seemed unable to make her brain or her body work beyond holding that truth.
Suddenly, in the near distance, an air ambulance rose into the night, monstrous and flashing and swooping away from them.
“I have to go with her,” Claudia sobbed wretchedly. “She can’t go on her own.”
“I’ll drive,” Jasmine croaked. Her throat was parched by floating ash.
Aware of hands grasping her shoulders, Claudia spun around. Andee and Graeme were there, their faces ghostly and strobed by the emergency lights turning night into horrific day.
A fireman approached, ungainly in his protective gear, face smudged, helmet open, and introduced himself as Rajid Khatri, crew manager. He asked Claudia if she was the owner of the property.
Claudia looked at her beloved home and seeing its ruined facade cruelly exposed in the overbright lights, she let out a cry of grief. Charred embers and smoke continued to pour from the smashed windows and clung to the scorched exterior. The roof was still smoldering, the front door was no more, and yet bizarrely, almost defiantly, the tower remained standing proud. She couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. It was a nightmare. It had to be. Her beautiful home, her friend, her haven, couldn’t have been subjected to something as terrible as this.
Beside her someone was retching. She turned to see Jasmine being held by Andee as she choked and coughed the bile from her throat.
“We have to get to Nana,” Claudia told her. As she said the words it felt as though she was floating, disappearing into another dimension, and for an awful moment she thought she was going to pass out.
“We got here as soon as we could,” Leanne cried, running up to them with Tom. “How’s Marcy? Do you have any news yet?”
“The air ambulance has just left,” Andee told her. “They’ve taken her to Swansea . . .”
“Why Swansea?” Claudia cried again. It was so far. How were she and Jasmine going to get there?
“It’s the main burns center for the South West,” Andee explained. “They’ll be taking her straight there so she doesn’t have to be moved again in case it turns out to be . . . necessary.”
Understanding from these words that her mother’s injuries must already have been deemed critical, even life-threatening, Claudia fought down a wave of panic. “I have to go to her,” she gasped. “Jasmine, we need to get there.”
The crowd of onlookers parted as Andee steered Claudia and Jasmine through to Graeme’s car. A police officer was moving alongside them, but Claudia didn’t register what Andee was telling him.
Once in the back of the Mercedes Claudia and Jasmine belted up and as though it were happening in a dream, she heard Graeme starting the engine and Leanne saying to Andee, “We’ll stay here for as long as we’re needed. Call me as soon as there’s news.”
“I will,” Andee promised. “We might need you to bring a change of clothes tomorrow.”
“Just let me know.” To Claudia Leanne said, “Don’t worry about anything here. We’ve got it covered. Just focus on your mum and tell her that we all love her.”
Claudia swallowed, dimly aware of ash in her mouth, stuck to her skin, in her hair. “Thank you,” she managed. “Thank you.”
Graeme drove swiftly through mile after mile of countryside to join the M5. By the time they reached it Claudia had managed to contact someone at the Morriston Hospital, who confirmed that the air ambulance had arrived and her mother was being assessed.
“Do you know how bad it is yet?” Claudia made herself ask. “It’s her daughter speaking.”
“The doctor will talk to you when you get here,” came the reply, and Claudia wanted to scream in frustration—and terror.
“That might take three hours,” she explained, as Jasmine’s hands closed around hers like a vice. “Is she conscious? Can you tell her we’re on our way?”
“As I said, she’s being assessed, but if there’s an opportunity to pass on the message I will.”
Before the woman could ring off Claudia cried, “Can I call again?”
“Yes, of course.”
IT WAS PAST midnight by the time they arrived at the hospital, and rain was coming down in torrents. Hardly noticing, Claudia and Jasmine leapt from the car and ran in through the main doors.
Claudia explained to a lone receptionist why they were there and they were immediately directed to ER.
“Claudia?” a nurse asked, coming to meet them. “I’m Alex. Your mother’s been taken to surgery. Don’t worry, one of our top burns teams is here so she’s in the best hands.”
Claudia somehow thanked her, and tried to think what to do next.
“There’s a waiting room for families,” the nurse told her. “I’ll take you.”
Remembering Andee and Graeme, Claudia took out her phone, explaining that she needed to let her friends know where to find them. “They’re parking the car,” she added, feeling suddenly hot and nauseous and dizzy . . .
“Mum!” Jasmine cried, grabbing her as she swayed.
“I’m OK,” Claudia murmured. “I’m fine.”
“Sit down here for a moment,” the nurse instructed. “You’ve had a nasty shock. Take deep breaths and I’ll bring you some water.”
Andee and Graeme found them in the waiting room, and as there was no one else holding vigil for a loved one that night they had the place to themselves.
“Can you tell us anything?” Claudia implored when nurse Alex returned.
“Someone will be out to speak to you shortly,” she promised. Her expression was kindly and sympathetic, but grave. “There are tea- and coffee-making facilities in the corner there, feel free to help yourselves.”
Graeme did the honors while Andee sat with Claudia and Jasmine, ignoring the vibrations of her phone and doing her best to reassure them.
The door opened and Claudia shot to her feet.
A tired-looking middle-aged man in green surgical scrubs and oversized clogs and with sweat pouring from his face introduced himself. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t appear frighteningly solemn either. “Andrew Brown,” he said, shaking Claudia’s hand as she stepped toward him. “Please excuse my appearance. It’s important that we keep the operating room warm for burns patients.”
“How is she?” Claudia asked brokenly.
“I’m afraid she’s suffered extensive injuries to her face, neck, and left arm,” he replied. “They’re what we term deep dermal, possibly full-thickness burns into the bottom layer of the skin. It’s difficult to say how deep—only time will tell—but it’s serious.”
“But she’ll survive?” Claudia urged, tears starting down her cheeks.
“We’re still waiting for results of the tests she was given on arrival to find out if she has any deeper organ injury, and how much damage the smoke has caused to her lungs. She was given a tetanus shot in the emergency department and PlasmaLyte—a salty solution—to keep the circulation topped up. At the moment we’re cleaning the wounds and removing the nonviable matter . . .”
Jasmine clasped a hand to her mouth. “Can she feel anything?” she wailed, horrified.
He smiled. “She’s anesthetized, fast asleep, pain-free,” he assured her. “However, the depth of the burns means that her nerve endings are injured, so it could be that even if she was awake she wouldn’t feel that much in those areas.”
Not wanting to think about how it was going to be later, if there was going to be a later, Claudia said, “How much longer will she be in surgery?”
“She’ll be moved to intensive care sometime in the next half an hour, but I should warn you that further surgeries will be required. However, one step at a time. We’ll assess the situation in the morning and hopefully we’ll have more to tell you then.”
Claudia didn’t know what more to ask; she was dizzy again and losing her thoughts.
“Will we be able to see her?” Jasmine asked.
“As soon as she’s comfortable. She’ll be heavily sedated and you might find the paraphernalia a little alarming, but try to bear in mind that it’s doing a good job of . . .”
“Of what?” Claudia cried, without really wanting to know.
Patiently he said, “Of keeping her out of distress. She’ll be intubated and ventilated to maintain her breathing, and we’ll be passing fluids into her veins to keep her circulation flowing—at the moment all her blood vessels are leaky from the inflammation.”
Not sure she could take any more, Claudia forced herself to listen as he continued.
“Dressing changes will happen every couple of days,” he informed her. “You’ll be asked to leave while that’s happening, but otherwise visiting hours are quite relaxed during this critical time.”
Wishing he hadn’t used that word, Claudia tried to thank him, but her voice had become hoarse, and her legs were suddenly so weak she needed to sit down.
Seeming to understand this, he gave her a reassuring smile. “One of the nurses will be out to speak to you again when we move her,” he said, and with a nod toward Andee and Graeme he left.
Claudia’s distraught eyes found Jasmine’s. “She’s going to be all right,” she said, sounding far more definite than she was feeling. “She’ll get through this.”
“I know.” Jasmine’s voice was small and childlike. “She’s Nana. She doesn’t let anything get the better of her.”
Claudia turned to Andee.
“Don’t go there,” Andee warned, clearly reading her mind. “Just don’t.”
Claudia took a breath, wondering how Andee could tell she was blaming herself, but there was so much in her head now, so many terrible thoughts, that she had no idea how to articulate them, much less assemble them.
Handing her phone to Graeme, Andee said, “Can you return these calls?”
After he’d gone Andee sat Claudia down and held her hands again, as Jasmine leaned against her mother. “We need to focus on why this has happened,” she said gently but firmly. “Let’s start with why wasn’t Marcy at the dress rehearsal with you?”
Claudia’s head swam as she tried to think back. It felt like part of another world, something that had happened too long ago to remember. “She should have been,” she replied. “She wanted to come. We were all in the car ready to go, but she’s had a terrible cold these last few days. She decided as we were leaving that she was too sick to come with us, that she should try to get herself in better shape for the opening night.”
Jasmine said, “I can’t do the opening night now. We have to stay here with Nana, and anyway, Dad’s violin was in the house.”
Claudia turned to her, realizing to her horror that she was right.
For what seemed an eternity it was all she could think of, but as awful as it was, nothing—just nothing—mattered more than her mother right now.