Free A Mother's Gift by Maggie Hope

have done just as well. He stared morosely at the floor.
    ‘Can you start it up for a minute?’
    Jackson jumped; his attention had strayed.
    ‘Me?’ he asked.
    ‘Do you see anyone else here?’
    Sarcastic sod, thought Jackson. But he turned to the iron steps and climbed into the cab of the crane. He had to think hard before he could remember how to even start the monster but he wasn’t going to let the boss see that. There was a minute’s quiet but then he figured it out and the great machine burst into life.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    The crane drowned out Matthew’s shouted question and he stepped back to look up at the cab. And fell over a small off-cut of steel that should not have been there and fell on his back, winding himself.
    His first feeling was anger, even before he felt the crushing pain in his left ankle. He tried to rise and fell back, clutching at his leg, the pain was excruciating.
    ‘Bloody hell, man!’ Matthew roared but of course Jackson couldn’t hear but he peered out of the cab anyway, his stare showing horror as he saw the prostrate figure below him. He started to climb out of the cab, forgetting to turn off the engine and Matthew rapidly made the signal for him to stop. Twisting on the top of the ladder, Jackson leaned forward to do so and the silence was deafening for a second. Only for a second, for as he moved he missed his footing on the iron ladder and fell to the ground, directly across Matthew. Luckily, the watch-man was already coming into the shed, having heard the racket.
    ‘Bloody hell!’ he echoed Matthew and ran to call an ambulance.
    All the breath had been knocked out of Matthew when Jackson came hurtling down on him, so badly in fact that he lost consciousness. And when he did begin to come round he was in so much pain that he didn’t open his eyes but tried his best to sink back into the blessed blackness. He heard voices in the distance, a workman’s voice and then others, the weight was lifted from his chest and he in his turn was lifted. The pain made him black out again and when he came to he was lying on his back in a moving vehicle that certainly wasn’t his car, yet Lawson was there, he heard him. Matthew opened his eyes.
    ‘Hey up,’ he heard Lawson say, ‘he’s back with us.’
    ‘What happened?’
    Matthew turned his head cautiously, seeing the dark windows of the ambulance, heard the klaxon blaring, felt every bump on the road with his battered body. ‘My God!’ he said.
    ‘You had an accident, sir,’ said Lawson, ‘we’ll soon be at the hospital. It’s just your leg, I don’t think there’s much more damage. Not like the other fellow, he’s in a bad—’
    ‘Don’t talk to the patient!’
    Squinting past Lawson, Matthew saw an ambulance man in green overalls. He was glaring at the chauffeur and Lawson, suitably intimidated, moved back. Matthew saw that there was another narrow trestle across from him and Jackson was lying on it, his face very pale.
    Thankfully, the ambulance took only a few minutes longer to reach the hospital and before he could even gather his thoughts together to demand to be taken to a private hospital, not the sprawling workhouse-like structure that was the South-East Durham, Matthew was being wheeled into Outpatients and Casualty.
    He lay looking up at the ceiling which was adorned with a few trailing streamers. A rather battered paper bell hung from the middle. It was a nasty red, contrasting with the faded streamers, thought Matthew drowsily. He was filled with a lethargy that was utterly strange to him, yet rather pleasant. He closed his eyes. What the heck, he thought, let them do what they willed.
    The clock in the drawing-room struck eight, waking Mary Anne from a light doze. She sat up suddenly and her head swam; she swayed dangerously. She kept her head down for a few moments until it cleared. There was a persistent ache in her back; it was beginning to make her feel a little sick.
    Where was Matthew? He