The Pitchfork Girl

Chapter Two

I could hear noises: low voices, footsteps, the clatter of a trolley. They were distant at first. Easily ignored. The light on my eyelids was more persistent. I tried to turn my head to escape it but a searing pain stopped me. I groaned, resumed my original position, opened my eyes and then closed them again. The light hurt. Everything hurt.

'Stuart ... she's waking up.'

Mum's voice. Its warm familiarity washed over me. I opened my eyes again. Bright lights and silhouettes. I blinked and Mum came slowly into focus. Her pale face tired and drawn, she rose from the seat next to my bed and gently stroked my hair. 'Hello, love.'

I tried to smile but it felt like my face would break in two. I winced and groaned.

Dad appeared and took my hand. His eyes were red and he looked like he'd been crying. That couldn't be right though; Dad never cried. 'Just stay still, sweetheart. I'll get the doctor.'

I lay against the pillows, trying to work out where I was. White walls, green patterned curtains, metal bed.

'Where am I?'

'You're in hospital. Shh shhh don't move. You're going to be fine.'

I looked down the bed, at the white sheets covering my body. My lower half looked normal, but my right arm was in plaster and there was a cannula in my hand attached to a drip. There was something stiff around my neck, a collar, keeping my head in one place.

'What happened?'

'Don't you remember?' My mum's voice was hesitant and she looked tense and anxious. I stared at her, bewildered. A doctor bustled in.

'Hello, I'm Dr Crawford. It's good to see you awake.' He bent over and shone a light into my eyes. 'You've been in the wars I'm afraid. Can you tell us what happened?'

I tried to think but nothing came. I was so tired. My eyes fluttered and rolled. I fought to keep them open.

'I don't know.'

'Can you tell us your name?'

'Jackie Ann Kenilworth.' My voice was thick and my jaw ached.

'Good. And how old are you?'

'24.'

'And do you know who these people are?'

'My parents.'

'Excellent.'

'So why can't she remember what happened?' Mum asked. Her hair was unusually flat and she wore no make-up.

'The mind often protects us by blocking out traumatic incidents. Jackie's memory should return in time.'

'Have I been in a car accident?'

The doctor cleared his throat, peering at me over his glasses. 'Your injuries are consistent with an assault. Head injuries, fractured cheek bone, cuts, bruises, a broken wrist and three broken ribs. All fixable though. With a bit of time you'll be as good as new.' He smiled reassuringly. 'You were brought in last night, so it's early days yet. Now, I think you'll probably be needing some more pain medication.' He turned and called to a nurse just outside the door. She came in, smiling, and inserted a needle into my arm. I felt a sharp scratch and the pain ebbed away. I wanted to thank her, but my mouth wouldn't work and she was fading away, along with Mum and Dad and the hospital room.

I drifted in and out of consciousness over the next few days. Mum and Dad were always close by. Flowers appeared next to my bed, Mum showed me Get Well Soon cards and Dad asked me questions that I couldn't answer. My head was vague and woolly. Thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds before I could properly grasp them. I just wanted to sleep.