‘Which is reassuring,’ said Margaret from her wheelchair.
‘Yes, Margaret. I suppose it is.’ I turned to Joe who had found me in the crowd. ‘Mum’s been arrested,’ I said.
He looked stricken so I tried to reassure him. ‘I think it’s probably fine,’ I said. ‘Just another Meredith drama…’ but he cut in across me, holding up his phone.
‘Layla’s broken her leg,’ he said. ‘Playing football. Compound fracture. I just spoke to the paramedic. They’re taking her to hospital now. She’s going to need emergency surgery.’ He looked to be on the verge of tears.
I stood there for a moment, the noise of the crowd continuing in a rolling hum around me as this new information bounced inside my head, refusing to settle into a logical pattern. Joe could see that I was having problems processing it all and grabbed my arm. ‘We need to go, Hattie,’ he said urgently.
‘But… Mum, and… the police – and the protest…’
He steered me out of the crowd, the packed high street stretching out in front of us. ‘We need to go,’ he said again, his voice calmer now. ‘We can sort things out with your mum later. And don’t worry, David knows, he was with me when I got the phone call. There’s nothing else we need to think about now. We just need to get to the car…’
‘Yes, of course. We need to… Oh god, Layla!’ The image of my daughter lying on the ground, her body damaged and broken, was suddenly so clear in my mind it was as if she was here, right in front of me. But of course, she was miles and miles away. She was alone and in pain and probably terrified. And I wasn’t with her. When she needed me. I broke into a run.
Joe and I were silent for much of the journey up. Once he’d filled me in on the information the paramedic had conveyed to him there wasn’t much more to say and both of us seemed to feel that by not speaking, we were somehow conserving energy that would get us to our daughter’s bedside more quickly. It sounded as though her injury had just been the result of a bad tackle. The paramedic obviously didn’t know the details of the match but from my calculations the timing indicated that she’d already have played two games before she was hurt and I suppose she might have been flagging a bit. Or maybe the opposing team were horribly aggressive, or maybe it was just one of those things, an accident, an overzealous tackle by an inexperienced player – they were all amateurs after all.
What I did know was that compound fracture meant bone through the skin. And that was not good. In addition, the paramedic had seemed fairly certain that urgent surgery would be required. Again, that seemed a bad sign. Were they worried she might lose her foot? Had she sustained further injuries? What about her neck, her back? Would she be paralysed? It was impossible to stop the spiral of worries building to catastrophic proportions. I tried to listen to the radio, but my head was woolly with worrying, and I couldn’t focus on music or chatter. I was hugely grateful that Joe was driving because I simply don’t think I’d have been capable – although, of course I would – if it was just me and I had to reach my daughter, then I’d have reached her somehow even if it meant driving a three-wheel scooter through a crocodile-infested swamp.
I phoned the hospital a couple of times, aware that I was clogging up their switchboard but unable to do anything else.Eventually I spoke to a charge nurse in A&E who confirmed that Layla was being assessed by the trauma team, which sent me into a further spiral,trauma teamnot being the most reassuring group name to hear. She promised she would call me back as soon as she knew more. And then, about an hour into the journey an unrecognised number flashed up on my phone. I answered immediately, putting them on speaker.
‘Hello, is that Layla’s mum?’ said a shaky female voice.
‘Yes, yes. It’s me. I’m Layla’s mum.’ I could barely get the words out fast enough.
‘It’s Asmaa. I’m – uhm – one of Layla’s friends. She asked me to call you. Her phone’s out of charge and she can’t really talk now.’ There was a gulp. ‘They’ve just given her an injection and she’s a bit woozy.’
‘But she’s okay?’ I said. ‘She’s going to be okay?’
‘Well, she’s… it’s pretty nasty. Her leg. It’s like. Quite a mess. I don’t really know…’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Asmaa, thank you. Thank you so much for calling… I…’ I started to cry and Joe took over.
‘Hi Asmaa,’ he said. ‘I’m Joe, Layla’s dad. Is there anything else you can tell us? Is she going to have an operation, do you know?’
‘Is she in a lot of pain?’ I said. ‘Does she know we’re on our way?’
‘I think the injection is helping,’ said Asmaa. ‘They gave her gas and air in the ambulance, you know, like pregnant women have. But it didn’t do very much.’
‘It doesn’t do very much for labour pains either!’ I said, laughing a little hysterically. ‘Sorry, go on…’
‘And the doctors have been in and they said they’re just waiting for a space in the operating theatre and then they’ll take her through.’
‘And start operating?’ I said, looking at Joe in horror. ‘Without us there? Do they not need us to consent to surgery?’
‘She’s an adult,’ said Joe quietly. ‘She can consent to her own surgery.’
‘I don’t know how long it’ll be,’ Asmaa said. ‘But we’re all here with her. Don’t worry. She’s not on her own. I’ve called Karl as well, obviously. He’s on his way over.’
‘Karl, her flatmate?’
‘Errr – yeah. Her flatmate. He was rehearsing for a gig on the other side of town. Otherwise, he’d have been watching Layla play. But he’s coming now.’
‘Oh, good,’ I said, a bit confused. ‘Well, could you tell her that we’re on our way? We should be there in an hour or two. Could you tell her that we love her and…’ My voice cracked.
‘You could speak to her,’ Asmaa offered. ‘I don’t know if she’ll know it’s you, or if she’ll make much sense but I can put you on speaker?’
‘Yes, yes. Please do,’ I managed to croak out. ‘Layla? Layla honey. Can you hear me? It’s Mummy. I’m with your dad and we’ll be there soon, okay?’
