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Every Little Girls Dream
Book One
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
I have based the tragic incident in the first chapter on a real event, and I salute those public servants and volunteers who worked so hard to manage the event, from every angle. My heart goes out to those directly and indirectly involved in the whole horrible affair, and I hope that I can, in some small way, pay homage to those who sought to bring relief and help.
Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.
Synopsis.
Tom Stewart is a rough, tough, seasoned, twenty-nine year veteran Police Inspector. Used to command, he is a popular, dedicated family man, on the eve of his half-century and facing the end of his career. He has lived with a secret for most of his life, successfully managing it. With retirement, he stands to lose the major factor in that success and he is very uncertain about how he will control the hidden urges.
Jenny Adams, a sixteen year-old schoolgirl, has her whole life ahead of her. She is bright, sensitive and pretty, she has everything going for her. She is returning from a day's shopping with her mother on a train.
The train is derailed in tragic circumstances. Jenny's mother is killed while Jenny sustains serious head injuries and is in a coma.
Inspector Stewart is aware of the incident, but not directly involved. Time, however, is perhaps up for Tom, as he is rushed to the same hospital in which Jenny lies on the brink of death.
One of them survives, but which one?
Join me in a voyage of true discovery.
Chapter Three.
The Father
He was a big man in his late forties, with greying fair hair and a couple of days' growth of stubble. He looked very drawn and tired; his eyes were red, as if he'd been crying. He was wearing a pair of casual trousers and a blue checked shirt that looked creased. A brown leather jacket was slung over his shoulder.
“Dad?” I asked, slightly hesitantly.
“Oh, my love, you don't know what it means to me to see you awake!” he said, promptly bursting into a mix of tears and laughter.
Hannah pulled the chair over and he sat next to the bed.
He took my right hand.
I smiled, somewhat bemused. I'd never seen this man before in my life. I looked at Hannah. She smiled and nodded slightly.
“Mr Adams, Jenny is still very fragile, so please be gentle with her. Her head injury means she is suffering some amnesia. She has very little memory of anything before the crash. Please be aware of this.”
“The doctor told me, but you remember me and Mum, don't you, Jen?”
I shrugged and to my dismay the tears were back. I couldn't control them at all.
“I don't remember anything. They tell me I'm called Jenny, but I don't know.”
“Oh, my poor little love. I'm so sorry. Things will be all right now, we've still got each other,” he said, glancing at Hannah.
“I'll be at the nurse's station if you need me. Don't tire her out, Mr Adams, she is still very weak.”
Hannah left us and my Dad looked at me so tenderly that the tears kept flowing. I didn't understand why I kept crying.
“Jenny, has anyone told you about Mummy?”
I nodded and he looked even more miserable.
“I'm sorry, sweetie, I feel so helpless,” he said.
I stroked his face.
“ It's okay, Dad. As you've just said, you've still got me!”
He openly wept then, burying his head in my blanket. Now I felt utterly helpless and looked around to see if anyone was watching. I still felt curiously detached, as if this wasn't really happening to me, but I had to make the right responses for some reason.
He took a few minutes to regain control and we just held hands without speaking. I even dozed a little.
“What can you remember?” he asked, at last.
I shook my head.
“Very little. I get glimpses that don't really firm up as anything I can recognise. I only know my name because they call me Jenny. I don't remember where I live or how old I am. I don't remember you or Mum, or whether I have any brothers and sisters. I can remember anything about school or whether I go to work. It's really awful!”
He then told me that his name was Robert, Rob to his friends, and I was the elder of his two children. I was sixteen, with my birthday on April Fool's day – the 1 st April 1988. I had a younger brother called Richard who was thirteen. Dad's parents lived in Wiltshire and were looking after Richard while Dad was visiting me and staying at the hospital. Mum's parents were travelling down from Scotland to visit. They were understandably upset and it was an awful time for the whole family.
I had just started back at school for my first sixth form year, and had been on the way back from a day in London with Mummy. We'd been doing some Christmas shopping and so the crash had now completely ruined our Christmas.
We lived just outside a small village with the unlikely name of Goldfinch Bottom, not far from Newbury, in Berkshire. Dad told me he was an airline pilot working for British Airways and he had met Mummy when she had been a stewardess back in the 1980s.
It was nice to know, but my memory still didn't kick in. I became aware that my bladder needed emptying.
“Daddy, I need a pee. I'll have to call the nurse,” I said, interrupting his flow of facts.
I pressed the buzzer and Hannah came over.
“I need the loo,” I said.
“Okay, gently does it. Do you want a bedpan?”
I shook my head.
“No, I'd like to try to get up.”
Daddy looked worried and Hannah smiled.
“Swing your legs over and then give me your hands. We'll get up to a sitting position and see how we get on.”
I did as I was told and experienced real pillow spin. I giggled.
“I haven't even had a drink!” I said and Hannah frowned.
“How do you know about that?” she asked with a smile. I shrugged.
My head ached dully, but my ribs really hurt as I tried to stand up.
“The muscles are all very tender,” Hannah said.
“I feel as if I've been kicked in the chest by a mule.”
“No, just a train,” Hannah said.
She helped me to my feet and the world spun slightly. My ribs hurt and I could feel the blood pounding in my head. I felt slightly queasy.
“Okay?” she asked, worried.
I nodded and raised a hand, indicating I just wanted to stay still for a moment.
“Fucking Norah, this is weird!” I said, and both Hannah and Daddy looked shocked. Where the hell did that come from?
I grinned sheepishly.
“Sorry, I'm not sure where that came from,” I said, quite truthfully.
Leaning heavily on Hannah's arm, I tottered down the ward to the loo. She helped me in and I sat down.
“Do you want me to go?”
I shook my head and she smiled and watched me. I then grinned and looked sheepish again.
“I can't seem to go with you watching me, I'm sorry,” I said.
“I'll be right outside. That cord is the bell, okay?”
She left me and I was able to release the pent up fluid. Even this sensation seemed odd, as if I had never been for a pee before.
I tore off some loo paper and wiped, conscious of the very sensitive nature of my genitalia. I brushed my hand over the lips, shivering slightly as I touched something that almost gave me an electric type shock.
The excitement bubbled up deep inside me and I smiled. I felt a deep-seated feeling of contentment that went far beyond anything to do with family, train crashes or injuries. I couldn't explain it, but for some obscure reason, I felt amazingly happy.
I wondered if it was the drugs they'd given me, but then Hannah interrupted my thoughts.
“Finished?”
“Yup.”
“Problems?”
“Nope.”
“Good.
She helped me up and we tottered together to the basin. I washed my hands and then stared into a mirror.
An utter stranger stared back.
I moved my head and she mirrored the movement.
I concluded that she must be me.
I was very pretty and had blue/grey eyes. A bandage was wrapped round the top part of my head, but some golden hair was escaping out at the side.
Full, naturally red lips parted in shock and white teeth gleamed evenly behind them. The high cheekbones emphasised the large eyes above and my heart shaped face was blessed with a very pure complexion, which was very pale at the moment. Dark circles under my eyes made me look tired, yet as I smiled, the whole face lit up.
“Are you all right?”
“It's weird, seeing oneself for the first time,” I said and she smiled.
“You don't even remember what you looked like?”
I shook my head.
“I'm quite pretty,” I said, and she laughed.
“Yes, Jenny, you are, but don't let it go to your head.”
“When does this bandage come off?”
“You'll have to ask the doctor. I should think another few days yet.”
“Will I be able to wear my own clothes, this gown sucks!”
She smiled.
“You are getting better, aren't you?”
She helped me back to the ward and I was quite relieved to get back into bed. I was exhausted.
“Well, if you'd told me you'd be walking about this quickly, I'd never have believed it. You were at death's door a couple of days ago,” Hannah said.
“Such is the power of prayer,” said my Dad.
“She wants some of her own clothes. If you get a chance, could you bring in an overnight bag and don't forget makeup and toiletries?” Hannah said to him.
“Already? Gosh, I didn't think that would happen for ages. Yes, it'd be a pleasure. I'm going to have to go home this afternoon, as Eleanor's parents are arriving at tea time and it's all a bit fraught.”
“Do you want to speak to someone, I'm sure there's a counsellor you could see?”
“No, I'll be all right. Now I've got my daughter back, I think I'll manage,” he said, looking at me through tear brimmed eyes.
We chatted for another hour and then I really did feel sleepy. He kissed my on the cheek and left. I dozed for a while, to be woken up by an auxiliary asking whether I wanted some lunch.
“Am I allowed any?”
“Your chart says you can,” she said.
“Okay, what is there?”
“Macaroni cheese, fish and chips, or chicken Tikka .”
Somehow, I knew I liked all of them. How was that possible?
“Macaroni, please.”
“Do you want sponge and custard or fruit salad and ice cream?”
“Fruit and ice cream, please.”
The woman left me, and I felt normal for the first time. I was bored.
I rang for the nurse.
Hannah came along a few moments later.
“Jenny?”
“I'm sorry, but is there anything to read?”
“What sort of thing would you like?”
“I'm not fussed, anything.”
“Are you sure you remember how to read?” she teased.
I just smiled and she walked off chuckling.
She returned with a couple of old Readers Digests, a dog-eared Bella Magazine and a month old Cosmopolitan.
“There's a library trolley that'll be round tomorrow. You might be able to pick up a book, or order something from the lady who runs it. What books do you like?” Hannah asked.
I shrugged again.
“I don't know. It might be quite fun finding out. I can read something I've already read and never realise it.”
“That'll be the same with films, then?”
I smiled.
“I suppose so. I hadn't really thought about it. Why is it that I can remember how to speak, but not my own name?”
“Different part of the brain, I guess. You can ask the psychiatrist when you see him.”
“Will I have to see one of them?”
“You know what a psychiatrist is?”
I nodded.
“A nut doctor.”
She laughed.
“You're getting better all right!” she said, leaving me to see what another patient wanted.
I read the Readers Digests first. I enjoyed the ‘Life's like that' and Laughter the Best Medicine'. There was an article about a young boy trapped in a car crushed in an earthquake in South America. The harrowing story was a little too close to comfort, so I put it down and read the Cosmo magazine instead.
The letters page and advice column made me smile. I read a fascinating article about female multiple orgasms. I was so engrossed that I was unaware that lunch arrived.
The food was pretty ordinary, but I enjoyed it. I ate everything and as I picked up my magazine again, I looked round for my spectacles.
I stopped.
I read the first lot without any difficulty and didn't need specs, so why was I looking for them now? I looked about the ward, realising that I could see perfectly. Both my long distance and close distance sight was perfect, so why did I think I needed glasses for reading? - force of habit?
I rang for the nurse, feeling guilty as I wasn't properly ill or anything.
It was a different nurse who came, looking a little stressed.
“Yes?”
“I'm sorry, but could I have a pen and some paper? I need to make a note of stuff to ask my Dad and the doctors.”
Her face softened and she gave me one of the two cheap ballpoints in her top pocket.
“I'll get you some paper in a second. Is there anything else?”
“No, that's all, thanks.”
She walked off and returned with a small memo pad.
I wrote.
Do I wear specs?
I picked up the magazine and read some more. I then felt bladder pressure again and looked up the ward for the nurse. Not wanting to be a pain for the busy nurses, I struggled into a sitting position, managing to swing my legs over the bed. Holding onto the bed, I hauled myself upright and waited for the dizziness to pass.
Keeping to the furniture, I negotiated my way to the loo and managed to sit down by myself. My ribs hurt and the tummy muscles screamed at me. However, I felt an enormous sense of achievement having done this by myself.
I had a pee and was once more fascinated with my body. It was like some wonderful Alien Life Form and I adored the feel of it. I felt strangely guilty, as if someone was about to find me out and make me go back to being whatever I should be. I just knew that it was all very strange.
I had just finished and was gearing myself up for the return journey when Hannah opened the door, making me jump.
“Oh thank God! There you are. Don't you dare do that again! What were you thinking?”
“I'm sorry, but you were busy with really sick people.”
“Jenny, you little fool, don't you realise it? You are a really sick person. Now, lean on me and we'll get you back to bed. Your father is back and your grandparents are with him. You gave me the scare of my life. I told them you'd popped to the loo, so hopefully they aren't too concerned. Now, these are your Mum's parents, so they're really upset already, just so you know.”
I smiled weakly.
“Thanks. Hannah?”
“What?”
“Why don't I feel more upset?”
She smiled and stroked my cheek.
“Poor Jenny, you will. When everything comes back, it'll all hit you and so don't worry about it now. Let's get your body fixed, then your mind and then we'll let you get upset. Sometimes the brain knows what's good for you and it may be you don't need worry just now.”
“It's just that I feel like someone else and that none of this is happening to me,” I said, as we left the loo.
“You'd better believe it, girl, this is happening to you!”
We walked back to the ward and I saw the man who believed he was my father with an older couple. The woman was clearly upset and had been crying. The man was doing a remarkably effective impression of being miserable.
As soon as she saw me, the woman started to wail and launched herself at me. Hannah managed to run an effective block, telling her that I was very delicate and not to hug me tightly.
I knew I looked a sight, with my bandage wrapped round my head.
“Oh, Jenny, you poor mite, thank all that's Holy, you are all right!” she wailed and drew me close to her.
“Careful Gran, I'm a bit sore!” I said and she burst into tears.
“Poor Jenny has amnesia. Her head injury was very serious and she can't remember anything of before the crash,” Dad explained.
“What, nothing?” my grandfather asked.
“Not even her name,” Dad added.
I smiled weakly and felt a real fraud. These were very nice people, but they weren't my people!
“Is it permanent?” Grandpa asked.
“We hope not. The doctors are hopeful that she'll make a full recovery. Doctor Rimmer calls her his miracle girl.”
“Why?”
“Well, she was brain dead for a while and suddenly came back to us. He's never seen anything like it in twenty years.”
Gran finally released me and I slipped back into bed.
“I brought some of your stuff from home, sweetheart,” Dad said, and plonked an overnight bag on the bed. He passed me a CD player and a bag of CDs. I looked through it and didn't recognise any of them.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“These had come for you. There are several cards from your classmates and teachers and some from the orchestra.” He passed over a pile of cards in their envelopes. I started to open them, but my Gran kept holding my hand and crying.
“Orchestra?”
“You play the clarinet in the school orchestra.”
“Do I?” I asked, and Gran started to sob.
I read the cards and the names meant nothing.
I read one… to a special girl, love Tim.
“Dad?”
“What, sweetie?”
“Have I got a boyfriend?” I asked, reddening slightly.
He smiled and even Gran stopped snivelling slightly.
“You seem to have about six or seven at the last count. But you seem to like Tim Barton best.”
I looked back at the card.
“I can't remember any of them.”
“Oh, you poor lamb!” wailed Gran and she was off again.
I remembered my note.
“Dad, do I wear specs?”
“What?” he asked, startled.
“Do I wear specs?”
“No, why?”
“It's just that I was reading this afternoon. When I wasn't concentrating, I put the magazine down to eat and then when I picked it up again, I looked around for specs. I just wondered. I might just have seen someone else do it, I don't know.”
“No, you've never worn glasses. Your brother wears them, but you don't.”
“Oh.”
I put the card on the side. I'd have time later to put them up properly.
Gran was really upset, and I was at a complete loss to know what to say to her. Dad was struggling to keep on an even keel and Grandpa looked shell-shocked.
I touched him on his arm.
“It was ever so quick. She wouldn't have felt anything!” I said and he smiled weakly and nodded.
“I know. It was as if our whole world came crashing down when your dad called. Then it got even worse when he called to say you might die too. It was like a little burst of sunshine when he phoned to tell us you had pulled through!” He had a lovely deep voice with the faintest Scottish burr.
As the afternoon progressed, I began to find that Gran's constant crying and whimpering started to make me feel depressed. I had started the afternoon on a high and now she was making me miserable. I then felt guilty, as I knew her daughter was dead and yet I still felt that although they were lovely people, they weren't my people!
I said goodbye to Hannah as she went off duty and was sad to see her go. She'd built up a rapport with me and I trusted her.
Dad noticed my expression and decided to take his parents-in-law away.
“We'll come back tomorrow, Heather, Jenny's getting tired,” he said, kissing me goodbye and ushering them away. Grandpa gave me a wink. He never said much, but not a lot escaped him.
Tanya Allen
Copyright 12.10.05