Nancy ran through the doors of Royal Derby Hospital. The Accident and Emergency department was busy: medical staff, kids, parents, carers filled the area. Some of the parents were sitting on rows of blue plastic seats, small children on their laps. She looked for the main desk and rushed over.
‘My daughter was brought in, Lara Miller,’ she blurted out to the receptionist.
A nurse in scrubs was heading past the desk and overheard. ‘She’s through here,’ he said. ‘You’re mum?’
Nancy nodded and followed the nurse down a busy corridor. She’d been cleaning the house when her phone had rung, putting away the Christmas decorations and storing them in the cupboard in one of the spare rooms. Then she’d got out the hoover and was getting rid of the pine needles. She hadn’t heard the first ring, or the second or the third. She turned the hoover off to rescue a felt reindeer who’d fallen under the sofa and had gone to put him on the mantelpiece ready to take upstairs with the rest of the decorations and that was when she saw her phone screen.
Three missed calls from the school.
Nancy’s heart had started to beat rapidly. She tried to unlock her screen so she could ring back but the stupid thing decided at that moment not to recognize her face and she jabbed in the code, once, twice, both times missing a digit in her haste and then – thank God – the phone rang again.
‘Hello!’ she’d cried out.
Esther had told her that there had been an accident on the school playing field; that Lara had collapsed and had been taken to Royal Derby Hospital in the air ambulance and that Rebecca Young had gone with her. Esther had asked if Nancy was able to get there herself and was she feeling OK to drive?
Each word was like a bomb detonating in her head until her mind was full of dust and noise and terror and she could hardly think straight.
Not again, she felt herself plead – or did she say it out loud?
Nancy raced to the hall, threw on some boots, grabbed her keys and bag and with a coat hanging off one arm, she’d got into her car and sped off.
The journey had been excruciating. Every crossroads, every light was conspiring to keep her from her child. She kept telling herself Lara was in the best possible hands: doctors, consultants with decades of training and experience between them would be monitoring every second of her daughter’s short precious life and making sure she got through, that she was all right.
The nurse stopped at a curtained off bay, pulled the curtains aside and there she was, her darling daughter, sitting up in bed, an oxygen mask on the sheets, machines by her side. Miss Young was on a chair next to her.
‘She’s doing well,’ said the nurse. ‘Had rather a nasty asthma attack so she’s a bit tired, aren’t you, poppet?’
Lara looked up and, on seeing Nancy, dissolved into tears and held her arms out.
Nancy dropped her bag and coat on the floor and ran over to hold her daughter. She kept her close, feeling her warmth, her small but strong arms clinging tightly as if she never wanted to let go.
‘It’s OK,’ she said, stroking her back, her voice choking. She saw Miss Young get off her chair and move a little further away to give them some space.
Nancy prised Lara off and smiled at her, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her thumbs.
‘What happened?’
‘It was PE. We were running.’
Nancy was aware of Miss Young listening in. She was disturbed by her expression – was it guilt? Upset? It rang a distant alarm bell, but she couldn’t think about that at the moment, she needed to focus on Lara.
‘But you had your inhaler with you, didn’t you?’ Nancy glanced at Miss Young as she spoke – maybe that was why the teacher was looking a little discomfited – had Lara not had access to her medicine?
‘Sort of . . .’ said Lara.
Nancy turned sharply to Miss Young, but she was looking at Lara, surprised.
‘What do you mean, sort of?’ asked Nancy. She turned to Miss Young. ‘She had it, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. She carried it with her during PE.’
Lara cast her eyes down at the bed and silent tears started to run down her face again.
‘What is it?’ insisted Nancy, gently tilting Lara’s face up towards her. ‘You have to tell me what happened.’