Smith

“The sun’s trying to come out,” Nurse Sarah Marshall cried, “look out of the window.”

  It had been the gloomiest winter in York since many people could remember; not cold, just grey with a permanent tedious drizzle in the air.

  “They’ve decided on a date,” Sister Jo Bennett sighed as she looked outside, “they’re going to switch the machine off in six days. The poor kid hasn’t so much as twitched her nose since they brought her in over a month ago.”

  In twenty years, Jo Bennett had seen it all; shootings, stabbings, even a beheading but this child had really shaken her.

  “Such a pretty little thing too,” Nurse Marshall added, “looks just like her mother from the pictures in the paper.”

  “They’ll be meeting up soon enough,” a husky voice announced the arrival of Doctor Pete Simmons. “Unless that little heart of hers decides otherwise,” he added.

  Pete Simmons was a seasoned doctor on the verge of retirement whose bedside manner was reserved strictly for the unconscious and the deceased.

  “Don’t be so blunt Pete,” Sister Bennett protested, “maybe she can hear you.”

  “She doesn’t even know she’s alive my dear,” Simmons said, “That father of her did a really good job on her.”

  “We’ve still got four days and he still claims he didn’t do it.”

  “Of course he does,” Simmons snorted, “they all do don’t they? Well, that’s me finished for the day; I’m off to practice for my retirement. That’s if this bloody weather lets me.”

  “What did he mean by that?” Nurse Marshall asked.

  “Golf,” Sister Bennett said, “silly game if you ask me.”

  “No, the bit about the father.”

  “He still insists he can’t remember anything about that night.”

  “Do you think he did it?”

  “That’s not my job dear. I’m here to make sure this little girl is as comfortable as possible.”

  “She looks so peaceful. Not a scratch on her. She was in a right state when they brought her in.”

  “You’ve got a day off tomorrow haven’t you?”

  “First Sunday off in a month. I think I’ll come in anyway. I want to be here in case she wakes up.”

  “Don’t make that mistake,” Sister Bennett warned, “you’re young, you should be out having fun.”

  “I’d rather be here. I’d hate for anything to happen when I’m not here.”

  FOUR

  DREAM

  Friday 25 December 2008