‘A few months ago, you were worried, don’t you remember? I think it was a rash as well that time. Then she had a high temperature and went pale as a ghost.’ Dean pulled a face. ‘I know it’s normal for a mum to be concerned but I honestly think this is just one of those things. If we sit it out, it’ll go away. Just like all the other times you’ve ever worried about her health.’
Becca got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. ‘I just hope you’re right. Some of these vomiting bugs—’
‘Mummy!’ Mia’s plaintive cry rang down the hallway and through their open bedroom door.
Becca and Dean looked at each other.
‘Christ! I can’t be up all night,’ Dean said, clearly horrified by the thought. ‘I’ve got a really important meeting tomorrow, prepping for the weekend.’
Becca clambered out of bed. She was the nurse in the family, the one who should be keeping a close eye on their daughter. ‘It’s okay. I’m off tomorrow. You go to sleep; I’ll get her sorted.’ She was halfway down the landing when she remembered she’d promised she’d go into work the following day, and a lead weight landed on her chest, a heaviness pulling at her shoulders. You’ve done back-to-back twelve-hour shifts in the past, she reminded herself and took a deep breath of clean air before entering her daughter’s room.
They were up most of the night in a cycle of clean up and sleep. By dawn, poor Mia was exhausted and crying, and Becca felt like joining in. She now had a great pile of washing to do, and was worried that Mia would be dehydrated – she’d refused to drink anything because she couldn’t seem to keep it down. Thankfully, Mia finally drifted off to sleep, and Becca hoped that the worst had passed.
‘I think I’ll take her to the doctor’s,’ she said to Dean at breakfast, having already broken the news to Carol that she couldn’t work because Mia was ill.
‘She’s asleep now, though, isn’t she, so why don’t we leave her? Let nature do its thing.’
Becca poured herself a coffee and hugged the mug to her chest. Her eyes felt scratchy and sore with tiredness, her body longing to lie down, but she couldn’t take any risks. Not with her daughter’s health. She’d taken risks before with Rosie, and look what had happened. She shuddered. In her heart, she could see the sense in letting Mia sleep, but in her mind, where her fears prowled like hungry wolves, she couldn’t trust her instincts. What if Dean was wrong? What if it happened all over again and she’d be to blame?
She took a sip of coffee, her mind taking her back to the worst day of her life.
She was eleven and playing with her best friend Rosie, on their way to the field just up the road, where the houses ended and the countryside began. Sometimes there were a few ponies in there, and they would gather handfuls of grass and giggle as the ponies’ hairy lips tickled their hands. This day, the field was empty. They had a den in the hedgerow, underneath the hawthorn bushes, and they had to crawl to get inside. It was their special place and they enjoyed many happy hours there, hidden from the world in a space where they could be anything they wanted to be.
Rosie was a little pale today and her mother didn’t really want her to go out, but they sneaked away when she wasn’t looking.
‘Mum’s so fussy,’ Rosie said as they walked up the road. ‘She worries way too much.’
‘She just cares about you. And it is a bit worrying having epilepsy, isn’t it?’
Rosie had only recently been diagnosed with the condition after having had a couple of episodes when the family were away on holiday. Now she was on medication, which she hated.
Rosie shrugged. ‘I don’t remember anything about it.’
Becca frowned and stopped, pulling Rosie to a halt alongside her. She studied her friend’s face, noticed the clammy sheen on her brow. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling okay? If your mum’s worried about you, then maybe we shouldn’t go to the field today.’ She turned to go back the way they’d come, tugging on Rosie’s arm. ‘We could watch a film or something instead.’
Rosie pulled her arm out of Becca’s grasp, anger crumpling her forehead. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. Don’t you start fussing as well. Honestly, it’s like I can’t go anywhere or do anything any more.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I just want everything to be normal.’
Becca relented then and gave her friend a quick hug before they set off again up the road. ‘Let’s not be too long, though.’
Rosie sighed and linked her arm with Becca’s. ‘Let’s just do what we usually do. I just need to be… I want to forget about all that stuff.’ She glanced at Becca. ‘Please?’
Becca pushed her concerns away. It was impossible to comprehend what it must be like to suddenly be told you’ve got this serious illness. Poor Rosie. She decided she wouldn’t mention it again but would try and cheer her up, pretend nothing had changed.
They crawled into their den and were creating a bigger space to play in when Rosie stopped talking, eyes wide and staring before she started shaking. Then she fell forwards, limbs twitching, her face in the soil.
Oh my God! She’s having a fit!
Becca had never seen anyone having an epileptic fit before and she was paralysed by fear, not knowing what to do. She tried to turn her friend over, but her arms flailed, and her body was going into spasms. There was no way she could manhandle her in the awkward space, not when there was hardly room to kneel let alone stand.
I’ll go and get help, she thought, starting to crawl out of the den. But then she stopped, unwilling to leave Rosie on her own. She started crying, frightened by her friend’s twitching body, wanting to do something to help but not knowing what to do for the best.
Finally, after dithering for ten minutes, she ran for help.
When she got back to the den, with Rosie’s mum running behind her, Rosie was dead.
If Becca had got help sooner, Rosie would still be alive. At least that’s what Rosie’s mum had said at the time. Becca knew that a lot of people on their estate and many kids at their school had thought the same.
She’d lived with the guilt ever since. It had spurred her on to train as a nurse because then, she reasoned, she’d always know what to do. Then she would never again be in a position where, because of something she did, somebody died who should have lived.
Now, she didn’t listen to her training, her years of experience; she listened to her regrets, and she picked up the phone and rang the doctor’s surgery. Small children were so vulnerable, there was no sense in taking chances, whatever Dean might think. It can’t hurt to have a second opinion, she told herself as she waited for the phone to be answered. At least the doctor would listen to her. They’d pay attention.
8
A virus, Dr Graham thought. Mia was tired after a bad night’s sleep, but she’d surprised Becca by eating her breakfast, and by the time they were seen by the doctor, she was bright and chatty. Still, Dr Graham had taken her concerns seriously and given Mia a thorough examination, asking Becca to bring samples if it happened again so they could do further checks. Becca left the doctor’s surgery, which was also the base for the district nurses’ team, feeling relieved.