All I Want For Christmas (9 page)

She could see startled little faces raise, eyes wide with surprise at the deluge. One small boy stamped his feet with glee, splashing water.

Lauren's brain was spinning, trying to remember the fire procedure. It had been so different in their own room. Everyone knew the routine. The children always enjoyed taking part in it. Line up. One behind the other. Quick march. Through the main exit. Along the corridor. Out onto the fire escape stairs. If the corridor is blocked, down the main stairs. Never use the lift. All assemble in front of the building.

It went like clockwork. No panic. No fuss.
But
now, in the lecture room, the children were confused, their well-practised routine thrown out of kilter.

Lauren knew there was no way they could reach the main door. She couldn't believe the speed with which the flames were taking hold, flickering along the walls, crackling, gaining power as they consumed every item they met in their path.

Her gaze desperately scanned the long room, seeking the fire escape door, leading out to metal steps. Grabbing Sarah's shoulder, she pointed through the growing smoke.

‘Quickly! Follow the usual drill. Count heads as they go.'

Sarah, two sobbing babies tucked under her arms, was already hustling the children towards the door that Helen held open.

‘I think Zoe's gone to unpin her collage from the wall,' she shrieked.

Lauren turned back swiftly. Abruptly, the lights went out, leaving the room lit by searing brilliance, sending the terrified children into a frenzy. All Lauren could see were tiny screaming figures, darting towards the fire exit.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Every one of her senses intensified. The raw throat-biting fumes. Her wet skin cold, yet scorched with heat. Her mouth strangely dry. Her eyes seeing. Her brain comprehending. And yet, it was as though she was distanced from it all, watching a film or a
television
programme.

The roar of the flames was an unearthly sound. Like nothing she'd ever heard before. And among them, somewhere, was Zoe.

It's the fumes that kill, not the flames.
She remembered hearing that said. For a moment, she shut her eyes, trying to blank out the scene, giving herself time to think, quell her panic.

Breathe deeply,
she told herself. But it was impossible to breathe at all.
Zoe. I must find her.
Desperately she stepped forward.

A floating spark landed on her jeans and she gazed, fascinated, at the widening patch of scarlet-rimmed blackness, before frantically slapping at it with her hands, quenching its growth.

She couldn't hear the children now. Only the rush and surge of flame.
Zoe.
Ragged pain tore through her.
Matthew's lost a wife. Now, his child. And it's my fault. All my fault. I must find her.

Every breath was torture.

‘Lauren!'

She was sitting on the floor now. How, or why, she didn't know. Somehow, it seemed easier.

Someone was calling. Or she thought someone was calling.

Her tongue slid through dry lips, trying to moisten them, and she opened her mouth to call back, but no sound came.

The
effort hurt. She tried again. Nothing.

A beam of light flooded the room, racing towards her, dazzling her aching eyes, and then the sudden force of water burst over her, choking her, knocking her sideways.

‘She's over there. By the wall. I'm going in.'

It was a voice she didn't know. A deep voice. A welcome voice. Lauren lay, shivering from the deluge, wanting to open her eyes, but they seemed glued shut.

‘It's okay, love. You're okay now. Up you come.'

‘No! I. . . must . . . find . . . Zoe . . . '

The words struggled up from somewhere deep in the agony of her throat.

‘Don't worry, love. Everything's all right. I've got you safe. Here we go.'

Cold air bit into her, making her shiver. Desperately, she tried to suck it in, fill her straining lungs, but the pain was too much, and she let herself sink down, down into welcoming darkness.

* * *

Zoe. She had to find Zoe. Everywhere there was this thick damp mist. She must find her. She must.

‘Zoe!' The name was a scream of anguish.

‘It's all right, Lauren. Zoe's fine. All the kids are fine. Scared, but all safe. It's you we've been worried about.'

‘Matthew?'
Lauren peered through the mist filming her sore eyes. ‘Drink this. Don't try to talk.'

Something cool and sweet slid down the ache of her throat, and she reached out a hand for more.

‘Gently!' Matthew's voice was filled with laughter. ‘Just small sips to start with. That throat of yours is raw. And no talking.'

‘Tell . . . me . . .what . . . ' Her eyes pleaded with him.

‘What happened?'

Slowly she nodded.

‘They think it was an electrical fault. Probably the wiring. No warning. Another drink?'

Obediently, Lauren bent her head to sip more liquid.

‘Thanks to you acting so quickly, Helen and Sarah got all the kids out and down the fire escape. But then, for some reason, you went back in.'

‘Zoe . . . was . . . still . . . Her . . . collage . . . '

Lauren heard Matthew catch his breath, then felt his finger gently smoothe along her cracked lips.

‘Oh, Lauren! Sarah said Zoe was first out of the fire exit, tugging all the others through after Helen opened it. All those fire drills were firmly fixed in her mind.' His voice hesitated. ‘So that's why you went back into that inferno? Oh, Lauren, what can I say? Zoe must have
dashed
past you in all the confusion.'

Exhaustion, mingled with relief, swamped over her. Zoe, and the other children, were safe. That was all that mattered. She could still hear Matthew's deep tones as she drifted into sleep.

‘The fire brigade was there in minutes. Sarah told them where you'd last been seen. They sent up a platform thing with a searchlight on and . . . If anything had happened to you, Lauren . . . '

His touch smoothed lightly over her hair, and she raised her hand to meet his, feeling his fingers entwine with hers. Then she slept.

* * *

It was dark when she woke again. Dark, yet not dark. Light glowed somewhere nearby, and Lauren couldn't work out why it was there. All she had in her bedroom was a central light, and a lamp on the bedside table. But this wasn't either of them.

There were noises too. Strange guttural noises. Almost like—she forced her drowsy mind to concentrate—almost like snoring.

It was snoring.

Wide-awake now, she pushed herself up with one elbow and instantly shut her eyes again as pain shot through her head.

Cautiously, she opened them.

A curtain, patterned with huge yellow
flowers,
hung so close she could reach out and touch it. Dimly, on the opposite side of the room, she could see the foot of a bed, metal-edged, its covers humped. Another was next to it. And another.

I'm on a ward,
she reasoned.
A hospital ward. But why?

Her chest felt tight. Every intake of breath difficult. Her skin stung. Her mouth was dry.

And then she remembered. The flames. The heat. The noise. Her fear. Cautiously sliding her feet over the side of the bed onto the cold floor, she stood up, and began to place one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the pounding in her head and the way the room tilted sideways.

‘What d'you think you're doing, Lauren?'

The unexpected voice from behind made her lose her balance, but a firm arm caught and held her before she fell.

‘You're supposed to stay in bed,' Matthew growled, and before she could realise what was happening, she was swept up in his arms, his chin prickling her forehead.

Any other time, the indignity of it would have infuriated her, but now Lauren felt far too exhausted to protest. One corner of his white coat lapel tickled her nose and she settled her head in a more comfortable position against his shoulder, feeling his arm tighten round her.

The rhythm of his heartbeat pounded in her
ear,
quickening as he bent to lay her on the bed, then was gone as he leaned away. For a second the blue of his eyes held her gaze, yet to Lauren it seemed like an eternity. It was as if she could see into the depths of his soul, read the whole of his lifetime, know his future. His arm stayed, holding her. His mouth so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath caress her skin.

And suddenly, it was Rick's arm. Rick's face. The same fierce strength. The same blue eyes. The same dark hair. Rick.

With one convulsive movement, she twisted her head away, her eyelids closing to shut him out. She sensed Matthew's body stiffen. Felt him step back, his arm sliding away from her, his expression puzzled.

‘I'll see you tomorrow, Lauren, and decide when you can be discharged.' There was a bleep from the pager in his top pocket. ‘Sorry, have to go. Sleep well, Lauren.'

‘Is Dr Trevissick a friend of yours?' the nurse enquired, coming across to tuck in a corner of blanket that trailed on the floor.

Lauren nodded, too weary to explain.

‘That explains the privileged treatment, then. Patients usually have to be at death's door to qualify for a night-time visit from the medical staff.'

Lauren yawned. All she wanted to do was sleep. It was as if she was drowning in lethargy, the pillows drawing her in, and her eyelids
closed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lauren opened her eyes. Someone was asking her a question, loudly and cheerfully. ‘Cup of tea? You take sugar?'

She nodded. ‘Yes, but no sugar, thank you.' Her throat felt easier.

‘Nice cup of tea make you feel better, you see.'

The trolley rattled its way along the ward, and Lauren thought of her grandmother's tea trolley with its embroidered cloth and bone china cups as she sipped the milky liquid.

Swinging her legs out from under the cellular blanker, she lowered them to the floor.

‘Did Sister say you could get up?' the girl in the opposite bed asked. ‘You can't unless she says so.'

‘There's nothing wrong with me.'

With the superior wisdom of one who'd been in the ward for a while, the girl nodded towards the nurses' station. ‘They have to decide that.'

‘How do I find the Sister?'

The other girl shrugged. ‘You don't. You have to wait until the doctors do the ward round. She'll be with them—giving them the low-down on you.'

‘When's
that?'

‘Ten. Eleven. Depends.'

Decisively, Lauren stood up. ‘I can't wait until then.'

Even as she spoke the door swung open and, with quickening heartbeat, she saw Matthew stride down the ward.

‘Oh, thank goodness you're here!' she called out croakily. ‘I need to be discharged immediately. Find out what's happening about the crèche. There'll be chaos, after the fire. I must find another room before all the parents and children arrive.'

‘No way, Lauren. We need to assess how much that fire affected you.'

‘But I'm perfectly all right, Matthew. I have the crèche to get organised, now the lecture room's been ruined.'

Lauren pushed back the bed cover and tried to sit upright, but a fit of coughing forced her down onto the pillows again.

‘Please, Lauren, do as you're told for once. If you're fit enough tomorrow, we'll see. And as for the crèche, that's closed for today. Don't look so horrified. Most of the children need a day to get over their scare, and so do their parents.'

Unable to prevent herself, Lauren slept for most of the day, waking only when different tests were carried out. By evening, she was breathing more easily, and was able to eat some scrambled egg and a slice of bread.

New
Year's Eve,
she remembered sadly.
When Matthew was taking me out to dinner.

The patients were settling for the night when he came to see her again.

‘I've seen the results of your tests, Lauren, and, on condition that you take things easy for the next three or four days—which means not returning to work—you can be discharged tomorrow afternoon.'

‘Not until the afternoon? But there's so much I have to do.'

‘I haven't finished, Lauren,' Matthew said quietly. ‘Having worked over Christmas, I'm off duty for the next three days. You can stay with Zoe and me. That way, I can keep an eye on you and ensure you rest.'

‘But . . . '

‘No, buts, Lauren. It's that, or remain in hospital. There's no need to decide, because I've already made the decision for you. Sleep well.'

* * *

Matthew arrived soon after lunch the following day, carrying a large plastic bag that he placed on her bed.

‘The clothes you had on were only fit for the bin, so I've been shopping,' he said, pulling the curtains round her bed as he backed out. ‘I just hope I've got the sizes right. Once you're dressed, we can go.'

Lauren
leaned forward and opened the bag, carefully taking out a pale blue polo-necked jumper, a pair of jeans, a lacy white bra and matching pants. But no shoes or tights, she noticed, before delving deeper to produce a pair of slipper socks.

To her surprise, everything fitted, and she stepped out through the curtains to find Matthew sifting on a chair.

His eyes skimmed over her. ‘Will they do?' he asked.

She smiled and nodded. ‘No shoes, though.'

‘Ah, that was intentional. When I said rest, I meant rest.' Gently taking hold of her elbow, he guided her towards the door. ‘Zoe can't wait to see you again. I've left her with my neighbour, Clare and her partner. The baby arrived yesterday and Zoe is “helping” Clare look after him.'

‘Can I go and check the crèche before we leave?' Lauren asked.