All of Me by Kim Noble Page A

dabbed a cloth on my forehead and stood back.
    ‘She’ll be in pain for a while,’ she said, obviously addressing my mother. ‘Don’t rush her. She’ll speak when she’s ready.’
    Thank you, nurse, I thought. She had bought me some time. But still I was none the wiser. Why was I here? What had happened to me?
    And why did Mum look like she wanted to kill me?
    I began to search for the jigsaw pieces, starting as usual with the edges. What was the last thing I remembered? Being at home. Before that it had been school. What had happened to me in the interim? Maybe I’d fallen, tripped down the stairs, or become sick. I flexed my foot and felt my toes respond. As far as I could make out, there was nothing physically wrong with me. It was just my throbbing head, sore eyes and burning throat.
    No good, I thought. I haven’t got a clue what’s going on.
    Before I’d just panicked. Now I felt scared. Piecing things together was part of my life. It was just routine, something I did naturally. Something I thought we all did daily. Normally it gave me answers. This time I was scratching my head. The few things I could deduce didn’t bode well. I was in the hospital, in pain. After the year our family had endured, that was the last place I felt safe. When Dad had gone in they’d removed half his stomach. Mum had been in agony for ages while she was stitched up after her accident. And most recently, of course, Nan had been taken there.
    I needed to get out but that couldn’t happen until I knew what was wrong – or what they thought was wrong – with me.
    I don’t know how much time passed. When I looked again Mum wasn’t there. The nurse – or was it a different one? – was clearing away some equipment. I studied it for clues. It was all pretty nondescript apart from one thing: a long, black tube. It reminded me of an old torture device I’d seen during history at school. I couldn’t imagine what place it had being in a hospital.
    The nurse noticed me watching her.
    ‘Oh, you’re awake?’ she said cheerily.
    I think I grunted something like ‘yes’ and nodded again. The pain in my neck was still there but I had more mobility this time. But after that I was silent, desperately fishing for information. I’d learnt that the less you said, the more others filled the gaps. Most people can’t stand silence.
    ‘I hope you won’t be so silly again,’ she went on. ‘You might not be so lucky next time.’
    Silly? Next time? Lucky? What was she talking about?
    ‘What’s that thing for?’ I pointed at the tube.
    ‘This is the thing that saved your life, that’s what it is.’
    Still none the wiser. ‘What does it do?’
    Without breaking her stride the nurse explained, ‘It’s what we use to pump the stomachs of naughty girls who have eaten things they shouldn’t have.’
    ‘Oh,’ I said. Then I realised she was talking about me.
    ‘Is that why my throat is on fire?’
    She laughed. Gallows humour, I think they call it. ‘Your throat and plenty else I imagine. I really hope you never have to have it done again.’
    She left the room and I watched her go. She’d seemed nice enough and I guess she’d wanted me to get better. But the only word in my head was, ‘Liar!’ I’d never heard so many lies in my life. The more I thought about it the angrier I got.
    How dare they do this to me! I should call the police. Doctors can’t go around shoving pipes down kids’ throats for no reason. Why didn’t Dad and Mum stop it?
    What was it the nurse had said? ‘Naughty girls who have eaten things they shouldn’t have’. That was it. What did she mean by that?
    What had I eaten? If anything, I was hungry; starving in fact. I felt like I hadn’t touched a crumb for days.
    I determined to have it out with her next time she came in but I must have fallen asleep first. The next thing I remember is Mum being back again. She was wearing different clothes. She must have gone home to change.
    ‘Why did you do