The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2670 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I called Southampton General on Hannah’s behalf and they were very reluctant to tell me anything until I said, “Look, what I need to know is can I bring Hannah, Ingrid’s little girl into see her?”

“Not sure a hospital is a proper place to bring small children.”

“She’s not very small, she’s ten years old and she quite rightly wants to see her mother—and I’m sure you won’t want me to invoke habeus corpus for her to do that.”

“Hold on,” I could hear mutterings in the background and suddenly a different voice spoke to me.

“Who is this?” asked the new voice.

“It’s Cathy Cameron, I’m looking after Ingrid’s daughter while she’s in hospital and I wanted to know if I could bring her in to see her mother.”

“How soon could you get here?”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid she’s critically ill and not expected to survive the day.”

“We’re on our way.”

I explained quickly to Stella what had just transpired, got my bag and a jacket as showers were forecast and grabbed Hannah who was just about to go and clean her teeth. “But I always clean my teeth after I’ve eaten,” she protested.

“Just get in the car quickly.”

“Why can’t I clean my teeth?”

I felt like slapping her—why do they always play up when there isn’t time to deal with it? My own are exactly the same and I was half surprised one of them hadn’t found some great error that had to be corrected that instant.

“Look, I can’t explain but if you don’t get in the car this minute, I’ll go and see your mother without you.”

“But I need to clean my teeth…”

“Fine, I’ll tell her you didn’t want to come.”

That unlocked the stalemate and she followed me out to the car, whining the whole time. Normally, I’d agree with her that keeping teeth clean is good practice but not if she wants to say goodbye to her mother while she can. Oh bugger, the traffic is horrendous. I’m sure every one of these has as much right to be here as I do, I just wish they’d do it at a different time.

I felt my blood pressure rising and my temper doing the same, why have they always got to dig the friggin’ road up when I want to use it—oh sod, temporary bloody traffic lights, that’s all we need.

Finally we got on the motorway and that was nearly as bad as the other roads. There are just too many cars, probably because there are too many people and they’re suggesting humans could modify genes to live for hundreds of years—yeah, rich Europeans or Americans and I suppose some Japanese and Chinese, even some Indians—let’s just say, if it happens which I hope it doesn’t, it will be the very wealthy who get first bite of the cherry. Let’s hope a pandemic happens first.

I turned on the radio and Hannah listened to the music as I drove thinking it was hypocritical of me to consider we needed to reduce the population by half and yet I’m rushing to Southampton to see if I can keep one of them alive—double standards don’t enter in to it.

The motorway began to move a little more freely and we sped along until we got into Southampton and then it was one step forwards, two back, once again. I was trying to stay calm, I needed to be calm and able to draw down the light to help Ingrid or possibly to help Hannah if the first option didn’t work—or maybe the best thing would be to help them both.

We located the ward after parking in the multi-storey and we trotted along, Hannah dragging behind me all the way. “Please we have to hurry,” I said to her.

“Why? It said visiting time is in the afternoons.”

“Just hurry, all right,” I said angrily yanking her hand.

She whinged all the way there and I shut her up while I spoke with the ward sister who led me to the private room at the end of the ward. “She’s very ill,” she said showing us in.

As soon as we entered the room I could feel energy being sucked out of me like the turbo on my car. Ingrid was asleep or unconscious, I wasn’t sure which.

“Mummy, it’s me,” said Hannah poking her mother’s arm, to little avail.

I took her arm and brought her outside into the corridor. She was about to protest when I said to her. “Hannah, your mummy is really, really ill. I need you to help me see if I can make her feel a bit better.”

“She’s gonna die, ain’t she?”

“I don’t know—but now you see why we had to rush.”

“I don’t want her to die.”

“Okay, this is what we do…” Having agreed our plan we went back into the room to try and save her mother’s life. I suspected it was a lost cause, but I’m British, we thrive on ’em.

Despite my doubts I felt myself bristling with energy and as I walked towards Ingrid I felt the light rushing through me and into her almost lifeless body. Hannah walked up to her mother stroked her face and said, “I love you, Mummy, please get better. Auntie Cathy is here to make you feel better, listen to what she says—it’s important. I’ll still be here, Mummy, do get better—please.” She walked round to the other side of the bed and waited.

I sat in the chair next to the bed and took hold of Ingrid. “Listen carefully to what I say and do exactly as I tell you and I’ll bring you back here safe and well. Follow my instructions carefully, we’ll only have one shot at it. Here we go—find the blue light I’m sending to guide you…”

For over an hour I struggled to bring her back. I felt exhausted and was dripping with sweat. I considered I’d done all I could and it obviously hadn’t worked—it was always going to be a long shot. I left the sobbing Hannah holding the hand of her mother while I gave her some space and stretched my now cramped and aching body.

I cadged a drink of water from the ward sister and after walking back towards the room heard a scream from within, I dashed in through the door—Ingrid had her eyes open and her arm around Hannah. The sister was close on my heels and she nearly fell over when she beheld the mother and daughter scene. She smiled and muttering something to herself went back to her office. “Thank you, Cathy,” said Ingrid weakly.

I felt a huge relief. I honestly didn’t think it was going to work. Hannah looked delighted, as she might well be. Personally, I suspect it was her love that pulled Ingrid back from Purgatory or wherever she was—she certainly wasn’t in her body, that was empty and running down.

We shook hands and I scanned her. She wasn’t well yet by a long way but she now had a fighting chance. “Thank you for giving me a second chance,” she said as I left them to make their goodbyes, I assured her that someone would bring Hannah in tomorrow to see her.

“What did you do in there?” asked the sister, “There were all these flashes of blue light, like someone was arc welding, I looked in once but all I could see was you sitting beside the bed with this huge ball of blue light surrounding you.”

“Me? Nah, you’re mistaken, she wasn’t as ill as everyone thought but she’s going to need some careful nursing to maintain her apparent recovery.”

“Come off it Mrs Cameron, I know who you are.” I awaited being told about my films, especially the youtube clip, or my husband. Neither of these happened. “A couple or more years ago, we had a transgender person here who’d been badly assaulted, she should have died but someone came from Portsmouth and something happened and the woman got well. Before that, we had a young woman from an RTA who shouldn’t have made it, but she was visited by an angel she said. Maria something I think her name was.”

“Drummond.”

“Yes, that was her—how is she these days?”

How could I say what really happened to her and how I look after her baby? I couldn’t—I just couldn’t; so I said—“I don’t know, I haven’t seen her for some time.”