I close my eyes, clenching them tightly. ‘She’s going to be okay.’ I grate the words, not just for the twins, but for me, too. ‘Trust your daddy. She is going to be okay.’
‘I want to see her.’ Maddie breaks away from me, her face blotchy from tears. ‘Please, Daddy.’
This suddenly doesn’t feel like a good idea. Ava doesn’t look like herself. She doesn’t look like their mum. I crouch down in front of her, taking my little girl’s hand. ‘Darling, I don’t think . . . she’s . . .’ I clear my throat, pulling myself together to get the words out even and strong. ‘Mum’s not herself. She lost a lot of blood, so she’s very pale. Very weak.’
Maddie’s chin trembles, and I look to Elizabeth, shaking my head. I can’t let them see her like that. Look what it’s done to me. I’m barely holding myself together.
‘You can’t stop us,’ Jacob yells, stepping back. ‘She’s our mum.’
My exhausted body lets me down, and before I can stop him, Jacob takes off down the corridor, Maddie quick on his heels. I drag myself up, watching as my boy slows to let his sister catch up before taking her hand and leading her on. The fact that they don’t know exactly where Ava’s room is won’t faze my babies. Like their father, they are determined. They have a sixth sense when it comes to Ava, too. They’ll sniff her out in no time at all.
I slowly follow, rounding the corner to find them standing at the glass window, staring into Ava’s room, holding each other’s hands. I study them silently, each of their faces a picture of pure shock. Then Maddie breaks down and Jacob turns into her, grabbing his sister and hugging her. The sight could bring me to my knees, and I once again have to find strength from somewhere to remain upright. It’s in this moment that I realise my babies aren’t really babies any more. My eleven-year-old son is holding his own emotions in check so he can comfort his sister. My eyes well, and I quickly and roughly brush at them to clear my vision.
Elizabeth approaches, looking up at me with tightly pressed lips. I shake my head mildly, showing her the despair I’m fighting to hide from my children, and make my way over to them. My arms circle their shoulders, and I hold them tightly, absorbing the jerking of Maddie’s body. I kiss the tops of their heads one after the other, over and over. ‘She’ll be okay.’ I only just hold myself back from tagging I promise on the end, and it kills me to accept that my unwillingness to make that vow is because I never want to break a promise I make to my children. ‘Are you two listening to your dad? She will be okay.’ Those words, they’re stupid but unstoppable. They are as good as a promise to my kids. Because Dad said so.
‘Mr Ward?’
I look up over the twins’ heads. ‘Dr Peters.’ With my kids still held securely in my arms, I cock my head, silently asking him if we need to be alone.
‘It’s good news, Mr Ward.’
Good news? I look through the window to Ava’s lifeless body on the bed. She looks exactly the same as she has since coming out of surgery. Unresponsive. No improvement. Good news?
‘The scan we did this morning has shown the swelling has subsided considerably over the past twelve hours.’
My head swings back towards him, the kids breaking away from me. He says it’s good news, so why does he still look so serious? ‘And?’ I question.
‘It’s still early days, and the extent of the damage won’t be clear until she comes around. But it’s a step in the right direction.’
I know I should feel relieved, but the word damage is a constant in my mind, like they’re priming me for something. ‘Thank you, doctor.’ I end the conversation there, refraining from asking the questions I need to. Not in front of the kids. I look to Elizabeth, who moves towards us before I ask.
‘I’ll take them in,’ she says, steering the kids to the entrance of Ava’s room.
‘They should talk to her,’ the doctor suggests. ‘Quietly, but they should talk to her.’
Elizabeth takes the children into the room, leaving me alone with the doctor. ‘Damage,’ I say, returning my attention to him. ‘Tell me honestly, what’s the probability?’
‘It’s impossible to say until she’s awake. While she’s in a coma, her brain is resting, giving it the best chance to heal.’
I don’t want to ask, and I won’t. She will wake up. Of course she will wake up. ‘So what are you doing in the meantime?’ I ask, unable to keep the curtness from my tone. It’s all a load of ifs and buts. That’s all I’m getting.
Through my fog of growing fury, I notice the doctor looking a little wary all of a sudden, backing up, and I realise I’m glaring at him, my jaw ticking, my body moving forward.
‘Mr Ward, we’re doing all we can.’
‘And what if it’s not enough?’ Just as I utter the words, I hear the shrill shriek of Ava’s mother, and I’m flying into the room like a bull, the doctor hot on my heels. I don’t know whether to be elated or terrified by what I find. Ava is squirming around on the bed, sobbing and distressed.
‘Mum!’ Maddie cries, getting tugged back from the bed by an alarmed-looking Jacob. ‘Dad, what’s wrong with her?’
I hadn’t noticed the doctor passing me at the end of the bed, but he’s now by Ava’s bedside, pressing buttons, shifting machinery, hands working frantically around my girl. ‘Ava,’ he says urgently. ‘Ava, can you hear me?’ He looks across to me, then nods to the children.
I understand his silent order, but I’m damned if I can move to follow it. My heart is going crazy in my chest, my legs full of lead. She looks like she’s having the worst kind of nightmare. Or a seizure. Is it a seizure?
‘Mr Ward!’
The sharp snap of my name shocks me to life, and I grab my kids’ hands, pulling them out of the room with me. I can’t see Ava like this knowing there’s fuck all I can do about it. I feel more helpless now than when she was unconscious.
I look back through the glass in a state of total shock.
‘We should get coffee,’ Elizabeth suggests in an attempt to keep me busy while the doctors work on Ava.
I look down at each of my children in turn, Maddie first, her face tear-stained and red, and then Jacob. He’s looking up at me, squeezing my big hand in his small one. They realign me, bring me back to where I should be. I stand taller and swallow down my shock. ‘Yes, let’s get something to drink while the doctors do what they need to.’
‘Well, what are they doing?’ Maddie looks back to Ava’s room, and I quickly pull her back around, giving her a warning look. ‘Helping Mum.’ It takes everything in me not to look back myself. What I’ve already seen will haunt me for ever.
*
After I force the kids to have some water and a sandwich, we go back to the ward in silence, my mind caught between dread and hope. I have no idea what I should be bracing myself for, what I should expect. And that scares me to death. The unknown. The lack of control.
When we arrive at Ava’s room, the doctor is outside making notes. He looks up and smiles mildly, and the hope takes over the dread. ‘She’s settled,’ he says. ‘Her eyes are open, she is perfectly aware of her surroundings, and she told me her name and date of birth.’
‘Oh, thank God.’ Elizabeth grabs my arm and squeezes, while I have to close my eyes to stop the tears of relief escaping.
Once I’m sure they’re under control, I look down at my smiling babies. ‘What did I tell you?’ I ask them seriously. ‘Always listen to your dad, you got that?’ They both nod, cuddling into my chest as I mentally yell at myself for ever doubting it. I knew she wouldn’t leave me. I knew she’d fight for me and the kids.
‘She’s just having some water and getting a few tubes removed,’ the doctor says. ‘We can go back in once the nurse has taken her vitals. I just need to run a few more tests, but you’re welcome to join me in the room.’
‘Thank you,’ I breathe, squeezing the kids into me. ‘Thank you so much.’