The Thirteenth Girl by Sarah Goodwin

Author:Sarah Goodwin [Goodwin, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2022-04-22T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

I awoke to the antiseptic smell of hospitals and doctor’s surgeries. Blinking, I squinted into the dim room. I was in a bed. To my left was a window with the blinds drawn, on my right a closed door with a line of white light under it. Opposite me I could see through a slightly open door to a bathroom. A vent overhead sighed warm air into the room, making the blinds sway.

Swallowing hurt my throat. My lips were dry and cracked. Glancing around I saw a plastic jug on the bedside table, beside a vase of fat pink roses. I tried to reach for it but my arm wouldn’t obey me. It squirmed uselessly on the waffle-textured blanket, my fingers weighed down with plastic grips and wires. Rolling my heavy head the other way I found a television on a metal arm and a lamp attached to the wall. One chair sat in a shadowy corner, empty.

‘Hello?’ I croaked.

Outside there were footsteps going back and forth, clattering and scuffling. I imagined gurneys and wheelchairs going up and down the halls of the hospital. Was Ellie out there, waiting for me?

Keeping my eyes open was too great a struggle. I closed them and let sleep take me again.

When I next opened my eyes, the room was brighter and there was a woman by the bed. A doctor in a white coat. Behind her a nurse hovered expectantly, carrying a tray.

‘Hello Mrs Townsend, glad to see you awake. Would you like some water?’

I nodded groggily and the nurse came forward to help me sit up. A plastic cup was brought to my lips and I drank the slightly stale-tasting water down greedily. Once the nurse had me settled on my pillows the doctor smiled and pulled the chair over to the bed.

‘Where am I?’ I managed, throat still raw from all the screaming I’d done.

‘This is the Pinewood Clinic. We’re a private hospital, near Caernarfon. I’m Doctor Mead and this is Nurse Brody.’

Doctor Mead looked very severe, her greying blonde hair pulled back into a slick ponytail, eyes narrow behind her thick-framed glasses. She reminded me of someone, maybe one of my social workers. She had the same kind of detached friendliness that set my teeth on edge. She smiled slightly as if sensing my discomfort. Nurse Brody on the other hand was plump and motherly with a heavy brow. She squeezed my hand after checking my monitor clip and left the room.

‘I’m not sure how much you remember of the accident,’ Doctor Mead began.

‘Fell,’ I said, even that one word like razors in my throat.

She nodded. ‘You were found in a deep hole. From what the search and rescue team said it sounded like an access hatch had rusted through. You were scraped by the old metal and we’ve given you a tetanus injection as a precaution.’

‘Baby?’ I whispered, guilt at my own foolhardiness practically choking me.

Her voice softened from its clipped tones. ‘Your pregnancy was our top concern and according to all the tests we’ve done, there was no damage to the foetus during the accident.

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