Remembering Ellie, page 1
REMEMBERING ELLIE
GILLIAN JACKSON
Copyright © 2024 Gillian Jackson
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The right of Gillian Jackson to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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Re-published in 2024 by Bloodhound Books.
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Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN: 978-1-916978-57-7
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
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Author’s notes
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
Chapter One
An unwelcome sense of fear washed over Ellie as slowly, almost reluctantly, she emerged from unconsciousness, instinctively aware of being in a hospital bed yet perplexed about why and utterly powerless to perform even the simple task of opening her eyes. Perhaps the sharp, clinical smell gave away her whereabouts, or the unfamiliar, tinny noises reverberating in her ears. Voices reached her – hollow sounds which seemed to come from the end of a long, dark tunnel, the words pitched low and indistinct, lacking the clarity to decipher them.
Ellie’s eyes were dry and gritty, but the strength to reach out and rub them eluded her, and her hands stubbornly refused to do her bidding. The voices drifted near and then far away, all so very odd. Was it a dream? It must be, and soon she’d wake up in the safety of her own bed, not this scratchy, uncomfortable hospital cot with its rubber mattress irritating her skin.
Ellie floated again into the unknown, breathing in the warm, sterile air and relaxing, letting go of the awful bewilderment and succumbing to the dream once more, drifting back to a place which wasn’t quite so confusing.
Someone moved closer, their breath warm on Ellie’s cheek, stroking her forehead with a cool, welcome touch. ‘I thought her fingers moved. Look, her eyes flickered too!’ It was her mother, Grace, her voice anxious and heavy with emotion but so comforting to hear. Ellie willed herself to offer a smile of reassurance, not understanding why she felt it necessary, but even her face muscles refused to obey. The floating sensation washed over her again; she was drifting, meandering – returning to the dream, she supposed.
A sense of falling evoked sudden panic, and a tightness across Ellie’s chest inhibited her breathing; someone was pushing at her body, lifting her, and a moan escaped her lips.
‘Can you hear me, honey?’ a brisk, confident voice asked, but she could offer little more than another moan in reply, and her weighty eyelids still refused to open.
‘We’re just cleaning you up a bit, sweetheart, to make you feel fresher, more comfortable.’
It must be a nurse, the pleasant, sing-song voice continued. ‘Will you try to move for me, honey? Squeeze my hand if you can.’
Making an enormous effort, Ellie was rewarded by feeling a trembling finger rise a mere inch off the bed.
‘Get Mr Samms,’ the nurse ordered, ‘I think our girl’s coming round!’
The fluorescent light was dazzling, stinging her eyes, but she fought hard now, determined to wake up if only to discover why she was in hospital. Turning away from the white glare above, Ellie succeeded in opening her eyes a fraction. The first thing that came into focus was her mother, Grace, sitting beside the bed with an enormous smile and tears streaming down her cheeks. A bulky, white-coated doctor stood at the other side of the bed, with two pretty young nurses looking on. They were all grinning like monkeys, and Ellie wished they’d share the joke.
A modicum of strength was returning to her limp body, and her fingers, obedient now, exploring her face, discovering a tube plastered down and running from her nose. What on earth was going on? Panic once again seized Ellie, and she turned to her mother.
‘Mum! What is it? Why am I here?’ The hoarse and barely audible voice sounded like someone else, it was such an effort to speak, and her throat was sore and scratchy. Hot tears scalded her face as she struggled to make sense of everything while remembering nothing.
‘It’s okay, Ellie, love.’ Her mother gently stroked her arm. ‘You were in an accident, and you’ve been unconscious for a while, but you’re back with us now. You’re in hospital, in York, and they’re taking excellent care of you. Try not to worry; I promise everything will be fine now.’
The bulky figure of the doctor stepped forward, introducing himself as Mr Samms, the consultant neurologist. He leaned his tall frame over the bed whilst gently lifting Ellie’s drooping eyelids to peer into her eyes. Holding up three fingers, he asked how many there were.
‘Good,’ he said, and nodded, asking next if she was in pain.
‘I feel stiff and weak, but no pain. I’m so thirsty. Could I have a drink?’ Grace was there in a flash with a glass of water, helping raise Ellie’s head from the pillow to sip the tepid liquid. The doctor instructed the nurses in muffled tones, and after asking his patient a few more questions, he left to continue his rounds, promising to return later in the afternoon. Ellie looked closely at her mother, noticing how tired she was and how much older than her fifty-one years she appeared to be.
‘What day is it, Mum?’
‘Thursday, love.’
‘And how long have I been here?’
Grace took hold of her hand in both of hers, squeezing gently. ‘You’ve been in a coma for over four weeks.’ She spoke almost apologetically as if it was somehow her fault.
‘Four weeks! But how? I mean, what happened?’
‘It was an accident; a car knocked you off your bike. Amazingly, you have no broken bones, only a few cuts and bruises, and they’ve all healed nicely, no scars, thank goodness.’
‘But I can’t remember, Mum. Why can’t I remember?’
‘Shh... Don’t worry about it now; it’ll all come back in time. The doctor said it’s common for memory to be affected by head injuries. It’ll just take time, that’s all.’
Ellie lay back and drew in a deep breath, trying to relax and not worry about the accident. After all, did she really want to remember such a painful event? Yet the last month was completely lost to her, which was really scary.
Recent events had clearly affected her mother too. It was little wonder she looked so tired. Both she and her dad must have been worried out of their minds. Suddenly Ellie’s exams popped into her mind.
‘Mum. Have the exam results come through? Did I pass?’
‘What exams, love?’ Grace looked puzzled.
‘My A levels, what grades did I get?’
Grace Watson frowned, squeezed her daughter’s hand again and forced a smile. ‘Don’t worry about it now – you’re still a little confused. Try to rest – we’ll talk about it later. I’ve rung your dad and Phil. They’re so excited to know you’re awake and should be here anytime, and Phil’s bringing Sam in too.’
Before Ellie could ask the next troubling question, Derek Watson appeared in the doorway next to a tall, grinning young man carrying a plump little baby in his arms. Her father stood back, allowing the younger man to approach the bed. In a sequence which appeared to play out in slow motion, Ellie’s mother rose to take the infant while the young man, his soft brown eyes wide and glistening, leaned over the bed, placed his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her gently on the lips. If her reactions had been quicker, she’d have turned away; who did he think he was, kissing her like that?
‘Ellie!’ The young man’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘I’ve been so worried, and we’ve missed you so much.’
Turning to her mother, who was still holding the child, Ellie asked in a quiet, pleading voice,
‘Mum, who’s this?’
The colour drained from Grace’s face as she looked from her daughter to her husband and th
The tall, handsome man with a mop of sandy hair sat down next to the bed and took hold of Ellie’s hand, a concerned expression on his face. She didn’t possess enough strength to pull away. This was all so confusing and exhausting. Surreal, yes, she thought, that was the word for it, surreal, and she felt quite dizzy with the effort of trying to comprehend exactly what was going on. Perhaps it was a dream after all and one from which she’d soon awake. Looking into the young man’s hopeful brown eyes, Ellie closed her own, sinking silently back into a place where things were not quite so strange.
Chapter Two
Ellie was unaware of how long she’d been asleep – it could have been for another four weeks, although she doubted it. Her eyes, less gritty now, opened more readily, and a sense of relief washed over her as she realised no one was beside the bed. Sitting alone, Ellie welcomed the opportunity to remain still for several minutes, taking in her surroundings and trying to assemble her muddled thoughts.
The room was a side ward with one other bed, which thankfully was unoccupied. A window at the far end was black, with no daylight, so presumably, it was night-time, and a closed door in the corner probably led to a bathroom. The ward door stood open with the nurses’ station in view a few yards away, where a solitary nurse sat frowning at a computer screen, her nose almost touching it. Several piles of dog-eared, brown folders cluttered the surface of the desk where she worked, and unsurprisingly, the nurse looked harassed.
Ellie didn’t attempt to attract the woman’s attention, craving a few minutes alone to try and remember what had happened, to recall the events which brought her to this point in time yet now escaped her. Closing her eyes, she focused on the incomplete scraps of memory floating around her brain, but it proved too challenging, like doing a jigsaw puzzle without a picture for guidance, and hindered by several missing key pieces.
Ellie’s mother said she’d been knocked off her bike, but that particular memory eluded her completely. Maybe if she knew where the accident had happened or where she was going at the time, it might jog some recollection. However, the images remained stubbornly incomplete. The only memory hovering in her mind was of the last day of term at the sixth-form college that she and her best friends, Rosie and Fran, attended. Fran had surprised them all by sneaking in a bottle of wine, and Ellie remembered the three of them drinking in the students’ common room at lunchtime, keeping the bottle secreted in a tote bag as if they were alcoholics.
Oh no! A sudden panic seized her. Please, God, I wasn’t knocked off my bike after drinking the wine. But Ellie was sure she’d not drunk more than one glass – she would never be so stupid, surely? A throbbing headache pounded at her temples, and being unable to remember anything constructive was becoming increasingly frustrating.
It was no good. All attempts to trawl the recesses of her brain only exacerbated the headache and confused Ellie even more. Perhaps the nurse would know the circumstances of her admission; trying to remember it herself was like coming up against a solid and stubbornly unmovable brick wall.
In a voice barely more than a whisper and trying to sit up, calling out to the nurse was no easy task. Ellie’s body appeared to be made of cotton wool, and she possessed very little strength to draw on to help herself. The nurse’s attention shifted from the computer screen to her young patient, and she quickly entered the little room, her rubber soles squeaking on the polished floor and her round, plump face wearing a wide smile.
‘Hello there.’ The nurse, whom Ellie guessed to be in her forties, possessed an endearing dimple in her chin and an almost conspiratorial grin. ‘They told me you’d come round yesterday. Welcome to the world of Ward 32!’
Ellie instantly liked this friendly woman with twinkling eyes and managed to return the smile.
‘I’m Caroline,’ the nurse half-hitched her ample bottom onto the side of the bed as if settling in for a chat. ‘Night staff nurse and keeper of the kettle, not to mention the chocolate bickies.’
‘So, what time is it?’ Ellie asked.
‘1.37am, and I think you and I are the only ones on this ward who are not sleeping.’
The nurse possessed a natural, relaxed manner. Ellie watched her pour a welcome glass of water as if she’d read her mind, and helped her patient to sit up and drink. When Caroline asked if she wanted to sleep some more or sit up for a while, she chose the latter option. Sleeping seemed to have been her only occupation for some considerable time. The nurse was gentle but strong in helping lift her, and soon Ellie was propped up with two fresh white pillows plumped behind her, supporting her frail body. As Caroline seemed in no hurry to get back to the computer, Ellie took the opportunity to find out what, if anything, she knew about the accident.
‘Yes.’ Caroline frowned in concentration. ‘Four weeks is about right. I remember because you were admitted while I was away on holiday. The doctor will be doing his rounds in the morning, and I’m sure he’ll be able to tell you more about your injuries than I can. All I know is that there were no internal injuries, a blessing, and no broken bones. Your head seems to have taken the entire trauma, hence the coma and confusion, but now you’re back with us, the future’s looking rosy. You might be a bit muddled for a while, which is quite normal. Things will fall into place in time, so don’t worry about it. Mr Samms is your neurologist; he’s great – a brilliant doctor – you couldn’t be in more capable hands.’
‘My parents,’ Ellie asked. ‘There was someone with them last evening who seemed to know me, a man… do you know who it was?’
‘Sorry, I wasn’t here then, love, but don’t worry, your mum will be here in the morning. Such a lovely lady; she hasn’t missed a day in visiting you.’
Ellie wished she could stop thinking; it only hurt her head, but she was wide awake now and readily accepted Caroline’s offer of a cup of tea, hoping it might help her relax. It would be a long time until Grace Watson arrived, hopefully, to answer all the questions stacking up in Ellie’s mind.
The early morning hours dragged, brightened only by Caroline, who brought the promised tea and a slice of toast. Ellie’s throat was still dry and sore, but Caroline assured her it was to be expected and would soon pass. The nurse also removed the catheter, which had been in place and helped to support her first unsteady steps to the bathroom. Ellie felt incredibly weak and was sure she’d lost weight – perhaps not a bad thing but a drastic way to do it.
As the nurse helped her back into bed, she caught sight of the name written above the bed, which read, ‘Eleanor Graham, known as Ellie’.
‘You’ve got my name wrong,’ she remarked to Caroline. ‘It’s Eleanor Watson, not Graham.’
‘Oh, sorry, love, we’ll sort it out when sister comes on duty at eight. Now is there anything else I can get you, a couple of magazines perhaps, another cuppa?’
‘I’d like a shower if it’s possible?’
‘Maybe later when the day staff are on, and there’ll be more pairs of hands to help you.’
