forgotten to come back to me. I waited and waited and after an hour or so thought to myself, I’m just going to have to go. I wasn’t used to asking for help so it didn’t occur to me to do so now. I set about trying to get free instead. I wriggled and wriggled my wrists in their bandage ties until one of them came free, then I managed to untie the other. I tried to get out of the cot but my tubes were preventing me, so I took them out of my neck and arms and grabbed hold of the bars to pull myself to my feet. The cot was quite high off the ground, easily taller than me, but that didn’t stop me clambering over the side and dropping to the floor.
On wobbly legs, I made my way across the ward to the door I’d seen the older kids use when they needed the toilet. I was sitting there when I heard a huge commotion, a high-pitched raised voice and then a loud click-clack of shoes on the floor. A moment later, my door was flung open and the duty nurse stood there, extremely furious.
‘What are you doing, you silly, silly girl. Don’t you know you might have died?’
I stared back at her, feeling shocked. I could have died? It was only at that moment that I realized how severe my injuries had been.
Later that day, a group of people walked into the ward. As they approached my cot, I realized with a sickening jolt that one of them was my father. He was a head taller than the rest and as our eyes met I felt quite breathless with fear. He fixed me with a look which said, If you so much as utter one word I’ll kill you. Stiffly, he walked over to my bed, accompanied by my doctor, two nurses and a man and woman wearing dark suits. My favourite nurse slid the side of my cot down, untied my hands from the bars and started gently removing the bandages from my head.
Sensing my alarm, she spoke to me soothingly. ‘Don’t worry, pet. We’re just going to have a little look and see how you’re doing.’
The other nurse, who was wearing a dark-blue uniform and cap, then spoke. ‘Judy, can you tell us how your head and face got hurt.’ I shot a nervous look at my father and when I saw his cold grey eyes boring into me, I shut my mouth tight.
Then the man with white hair took a step closer. ‘Do you remember how you hurt your legs, Judy. What happened?’
I shrank back from him and when I didn’t speak, the man turned to the doctor and said, ‘Can she hear me?’
The doctor then came closer and bent his head down. ‘Can you remember anything at all, anything about how you got hurt?’ I pressed my lips together and shook my head.
At that, my father stepped in, looking like he’d had well enough. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ he said. ‘She rode her bike down the hill and crashed into the school railings.’
I couldn’t tell the others what I knew: that the school wasn’t down a hill, and that I didn’t have a bicycle. But I sensed that the people round my bed didn’t believe his story anyway.
The white-haired man spoke again, this time to my father. ‘Mr Richardson, I’m afraid that during our investigations your daughter will have to stay here in hospital.’ My father stiffened a little but didn’t say anything.
Then it was over and they turned to go. My favourite nurse stayed with me and gently put my bandages back and tied my hands again. ‘You’ll see, Judy. We’ll have you as good as new in no time,’ she said with a smile.
Other than my dad, I didn’t have any visitors for a couple of weeks. Every day, after lunch, there was a queue of people waiting to be let into the ward to visit the kids. We could see them through the window that separated our room from the corridor. They stood there making faces and blowing kisses through the glass. I remember Leonard’s family coming to visit him in the second week. When he spied his parents he stood up in his cot, calling out and waving at them with both hands. Then his mum and dad came in and they swooped Leonard up and gave him a big cuddle.