‘Give what back?’ mocked Rosie. ‘You mean this?’
To Lara’s horror, Rosie had her finger on the inhaler’s button and was pushing it over and over; clouds of the medicine were being dispersed into the air. More and more of it. Lara looked back at the school in desperation. Miss Young still wasn’t there.
‘Please don’t,’ she pleaded. She held out her hands, tried to get closer to Rosie to get the inhaler back but she was too fast for her, dodging away, and Lara couldn’t breathe, couldn’t catch her.
‘Maybe we should give it back to her,’ said Tilly dubiously.
‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘She’s faking it.’
Lara shook her head desperately and wondered about what to say to make Rosie give the inhaler back, but she couldn’t speak, then the breaths became more panicked and more shallow and she couldn’t get enough air, she bent her head, utterly terrified, gasping, her chest in pain, and then suddenly she didn’t have any other thoughts in her head and she collapsed on the muddy grass.
FIFTY-NINE
Friday 8 January
Why did Charlie’s parents always give him such crap food? Rebecca had thought as he’d retched up the putrid mess of his lunch: a crust-less white bread sandwich with a square of processed cheese, a packet of cheesy crackers, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, a large blueberry muffin and a full-size Mars bar. She couldn’t of course tell what he’d eaten by the foul-smelling mush at her feet. She had seen it when she’d gone into the hall at lunchtime and overheard him claiming his fruit allowance was in his muffin.
Well, it wasn’t any more, it was fertilizing the school field. Revoltingly, some of it had splashed onto her trainers.
She’d radioed the office, needing someone to come out and collect him, but there was no answer. She’d tried again, frowning when no one picked up. Charlie had looked so out of it, his fat cheeks devoid of any colour at all, as if he was going to faint or chunder again, that she couldn’t entrust him to another child. Rebecca had looked around the field at the other kids who were still running. She didn’t like leaving them, even though she knew they’d be OK, butCharlie needed help. And if he fainted alone on the playground on the way back...no, it wasn’t worth it. She’d only be three minutes, four at most.
She’d taken him by the shoulder and marched him back to the school building, and deposited him, sick stains on his shirt, with the office staff, who had been on the phone earlier, hence not picking up her call out. She’d glanced ruefully at her trainers but there was no time.
She’d run back across the playground towards the field. At first glance, it looked exactly as she’d left it, the kids still running around, sporadic gaps between them all, but then she’d seen Mia put on such a sprint, she’d made a note to give her an extra star on the board for effort. This lasted for all of a second because then she saw where Mia was headed and – my God – was that achildon the ground?
Rebecca broke into a run herself, reaching the child, who turned out to be Lara. She was ghostly white and unmoving.Jesus, thought Rebecca,what’s happened?She dropped to her knees and put a hand on Lara’s cheek and it felt cold, but it didn’t really tell her anything and she was aware of Mia bleating in her ear, asking if Lara was all right. Rebecca didn’t know,she didn’t knowand, hardly believing what she was doing, she put two fingers on Lara’s wrist and felt for a pulse.
It was there. Weak, almost fluttering, she thought, but maybe that was because her own heart was thumping so hard and fast, it made it difficult to focus on Lara.
‘Go and get someone from the office,’ Rebecca said to Mia, who was still hovering.
‘Who?’ asked Mia, frozen to the spot.
‘Anyone!’ barked Rebecca. She took a breath.Must remain calm. Don’t frighten her.‘Just go and get help. They need to call an ambulance. Tell them to bring a blanket. Tell them it’s urgent.’
Mia ran off and Rebecca took off her tracksuit jacket and laid it over Lara as she radioed the office again, to reaffirm Mia’s message.
By now the rest of the kids had stopped running and some were watching, confused and scared. A couple had run up to her and were asking if Lara was all right; a couple more were crying. Rebecca ignored them all and leaned her ear down to Lara’s mouth, listening for breath. It was irregular; a few short, desperate wheezes in and then a gap, then another inhale that didn’t seem to bring enough oxygen. The edges of Lara’s lips were blue. Rebecca took her hand. ‘Come on,’ she muttered, trying not to panic. Then she heard a shout and looked up and saw a couple of other staff running towards her. Oh thank God, she thought.
‘Oh my God,’ said Mr Chappell, the Year 5 teacher, ‘is she breathing?’
Esther was on the phone and Rebecca could tell it was to the emergency services and they were asking the same question.
Lara’s breaths seemed to get more laboured, more pained.
‘Lara?’ said Rebecca, leaning over her, desperately looking for signs that she was coming back round, but Lara’s eyes remained closed and Rebecca wasn’t even sure the girl could hear her as she continued to gasp for breath. She held herhand and was vaguely aware of Mr Chappell rounding up the rest of her distraught class and taking them inside. Esther waited beside her, still giving a running commentary to whoever was on the other end of the phone, and then Rebecca heard the thwack thwack of a helicopter in the distance, which seemed to be upon them in seconds. She shielded Lara’s body as it landed, not wanting the downdraught from the blades to extinguish this child’s barely-there breath. By now Mr Whitman was also on the field and the paramedics were running up to them and taking over, and Rebecca felt an overwhelming sense of relief that Lara was in safe hands.
She answered some brief questions: yes, Lara was asthmatic, no, she didn’t know how long she’d been lying there before she found her but no more than two or three minutes, and then the paramedics had parcelled Lara onto a stretcher. Mr Whitman told the paramedics that Rebecca was the right person to go with Lara, and she followed the crew as they ran with Lara back over to the air ambulance. She was helped up on board and within seconds the door was closed. As they rose into the air, Rebecca thought she saw something small and blue lying on the ground a short distance from where Lara had been found: her inhaler. But the helicopter moved so fast she couldn’t be sure and then the field was barely a speck below them.
SIXTY
Friday 8 January
Nancy ran through the doors of Royal Derby Hospital. The Accident and Emergency department was busy: medical staff, kids, parents, carers filled the area. Some of the parents were sitting on rows of blue plastic seats, small children on their laps. She looked for the main desk and rushed over.
‘My daughter was brought in, Lara Miller,’ she blurted out to the receptionist.
A nurse in scrubs was heading past the desk and overheard. ‘She’s through here,’ he said. ‘You’re mum?’
