Until we meet again (A war romance) (#Wattys2015)

Mother

I was certain she was dead. The doctor was standing at the door when I answered it, and she was in his arms. Her skin was pale and white, and her hair hung over her shoulders.

“Take her inside before she catches her death of cold.” I stood aside and he came in. I was both amazed and ashamed at how normal my voice sounded. The doctor put her into her bed, and got out his medical kit. I suddenly saw a flash of red beneath her golden hair.

“Doctor…” I breathed. He saw it too, and lifted up her hair. There was a huge gash across her forehead, and it was leaking blood.

“Careful it doesn’t get onto the sheets!” I snapped. How could I be thinking about the bed sheets at a time like this? The doctor worked quickly, and bandaged up Diana’s head. She was still asleep.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Apparently she was in a car crash,”

“A car crash?” I frowned, “But we don’t have a car!”

“She delivers the vegetables to the shop via car.”

I knelt by her side, and clutched at her hand.

“Diana, Darling, wake up!” Her hand was cold as death, but I could faintly see the rise and fall of her chest.

“Diana, Diana please, don’t fool around.” She stayed silent.

“Doctor, what’s wrong with her?”

“She knocked her head badly by the looks of it. She may have been put into a coma.”

“A coma?!” My breathing was fast, “But she’ll wake up, won’t she?”

The doctor sighed sadly, and looked away.

“I don’t know.”

A single tear spilled down my cheek, then it turned into a stream, a river. So much for not ruining the sheets, I had soaked them!

“How can I make sure she’ll wake up?” I sobbed, “I just want her to wake up!”

“I know, I know. Diana is strong, I’m sure she’ll pull through, but only time will tell. All you can do is keep her comfortable and talk to her.”

I shook my head vigorously, “I will, oh I will!”

The doctor nodded, “I will check on her tomorrow.”

I saw him out, but as soon as he door shut, I rushed up the stairs to the room where my daughter slept. Her eyes were closed, and she could almost be sleeping, but I knew otherwise. I pulled up a chair close to her bed, and held her hand. I felt her nails and frowned.

“You shouldn’t be biting your nails,” I whispered. It was more of a statement than a scolding.

“Di, if you can hear me, please wake up!” I got no answer, but I carried on, “I wasn’t here for you when you needed me, and I was more of a bully than a mother. I’m so- I’m so sorry Diana!”

I cried onto her bed, and that’s how I stayed for the night. What if she died, just like my husband had? I would be all alone, and lonely. I scolded myself. How could I be thinking of myself? My daughter was dying in front of me!

I woke up the next morning, still clutching her hand. I had fallen asleep in my chair. I looked worriedly over at Diana. She was still breathing. I sighed with relief. I went downstairs and made breakfast for myself. I then realised. How was Diana to eat? I would leave that to the doctor, I decided. I got a cloth, and ran it under the tap, and wrung it out until it was mildly damp. I fetched our own first aid kit that I kept in our kitchen cupboard, and got out a fresh bandage. I hurried upstairs to Diana’s room where she lay. I undid the dressing, and saw to my horror the ugly gash across her forehead. It had stopped bleeding, but there were still specks of dried blood around the wound, and even in her hair. I washed them off carefully with the damp cloth, and put the dirty dressing in the bin. I then wrapped the new bandage around her head, pulling it tightly, but not so much that it would hurt her. I collapsed onto the chair. This was going to take some getting used to!

The doctor came later that morning. He somehow managed to feed Diana, then came out of the room.

“I’m going to change her dressing now,”

“I did it this morning,” I said. The doctor looked surprised.

“You did?”

I laughed, “I just wanted to do something to help.” He looked at the clean bandages I had applied.

“You’ve done a very good job,” he marvelled.

I beamed. My daughter was going to get better. I would make her better!

“I have informed Suzie up at the farm of the incident, to say she cannot work anymore.”

“Will her son know?”

He shrugged, “Probably. Been through some nasty things that lad has.”

“My daughter is his- girlfriend,” I said, even though it pained me to say it. My daughter was growing up; it was time to let her go.

“Maybe I could arrange for him to see her sometime?” The doctor suggested. I agreed.

“Thank you.”

He left, and I was left alone with Diana. “Please wake up.”