Lost and Found in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #2)

27. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

T oni banged on the hull of the plane. Laura couldn’t hear her workmate over the noise of the drill, so she shut it off.

“What?” she asked. But before Toni could answer, Laura became aware of the alarms going off in the plant. Her stomach knotted. Alarms going off in that number and intensity meant there was a big problem somewhere, possibly an accident. Two weeks before, a young girl had suffered a terrible burn to her right arm. She hadn’t been back since. Laura had learned very quickly that it could be a dangerous place to work.

All work up and down the line came to a grinding halt. It was a different place without all the noise of the machinery. But there was still the sound of the alarms reverberating through the cavernous space, echoing.

She set her drill down and sat on one of two upturned crates. Toni joined her. Work would be halted until the problem was fixed, whatever it was. Sometimes that happened quickly, even just a few minutes if the alarms had gone off accidentally. Other times, they could be sitting around for hours, waiting for the all clear.

“I love that headscarf you’re wearing,” Laura said. Her workmate wore a dusky blue scarf with the word “Victory” printed all over it, the capital “V” stylized in red and blue.

Toni touched it. “Isn’t it swell? My cousin sent me this from Canada. She’s working at an aircraft plant in Hamilton.”

“It’s nice.”

“I’ve got an extra at home, I’ll bring it in for you.”

“That’d be great.”

The conversation stopped when Joy came running toward them. Laura jumped up off her crate. “What’s wrong?”

Although breathless from her long run, Joy managed to get out, “It’s Diana! She’s gone and got her hair caught in the buffer.”

The three of them took off in a run. All Laura could think about was Diana’s beautiful hair. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too bad.

Like everywhere else in the plant, the machinery in Diana’s section was silent, but they could hear their friend screaming and wailing. They approached the crowd gathered around one of the machines, And Laura elbowed her way through, anxious to get to her friend. When the other women saw them, they parted like the Red Sea to allow them through, knowing they were Diana’s friends.

Laura saw many things at once when she finally reached the center of the circle. A substantial lock of Diana’s golden hair wound around the buffer machine, having been torn from her head, and to Laura’s horror, she realized that there was blood and pieces of skin at the end of it. Her stomach roiled and she gagged, but she did not want to alarm her friend and with every bit of strength within her, she tamped it down and forced herself to look at Diana, who was supine on the floor, her long legs stretched out. The plant manager and foreman were crouched, hovering over her.

Laura pushed forward and knelt down next to the foreman, Joy doing the same on her other side.

What she saw would be an image Laura would carry with her for the rest of her life. Not only was a large chunk of Diana’s hair missing, but part of the scalp was gone as well, leaving the left side of her head looking like raw meat. Laura’s stomach somersaulted. She looked at Joy and knew she mirrored the way she looked. Pale as a ghost. Even Joy’s lips had gone white. Both of them reached forward at the same time and held Diana’s hands.

“We’re here, Diana,” Joy said.

Diana looked at them through her tears. “Is it bad?” she wailed.

“It’s going to be fine,” Laura said, having no idea if that was true.

“You’ll be fine, honey,” Joy said, “but we need to get you to the hospital.”

The foreman and the manager stood. Behind them, there were gasps and even a scream at the sight of Diana’s injury. Quickly, Laura removed her headscarf and laid it gently over the wound. Diana yelped in pain.

“Sorry, Diana,” Laura whispered.

The ambulance crew arrived and moved Diana onto a stretcher. Laura and Joy stood, following closely. As they passed Creepy Les, Laura asked, “Can we go with her to the hospital?” Even though she’d lose a day’s pay, she didn’t care.

“Not on your life,” was his answer.

Mr. Treadwell, standing next to him, frowned. Laura looked to him, and he nodded. “Yeah, go on, get out of here.”

As they walked away, following the stretcher, Les said to someone, “Get that scalp out of here and throw it in the incinerator. Get this place cleaned up as soon as possible so we can get back to work.”

It was then that Laura started crying.

They followed the ambulance in Joy’s car.

On the ride over, Joy kept muttering and crossing herself and lifting the religious medal that hung around her neck and kissing it.

Laura looked over at her. “Are you all right? Did you want me to drive?”

Joy shook her head, continuing to whisper some prayer.

When the hospital was in sight, Joy, still pale, asked, “How are they going to fix that?”

Laura had been thinking the same thing, wondering if it could be fixed. “I don’t know.” She put her elbow on the door and placed her hand on her forehead, trying to process all that had happened.

She dropped her hand. “Gosh, we should call her mother.”

“As soon as we get to the hospital.”

Laura patted her pockets. “I left everything at work. I don’t think I have a nickel.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got some change in my pocket.”

The ambulance drove right up to the hospital entrance. Joy looked around for a parking spot and eventually found one quite a distance from the entrance. It was a few minutes before the two of them rushed through the front doors.

They were greeted by an elderly nun. The sister was tall and garbed in the traditional habit of her order: a black tunic that fell to the ground and a black head covering with a white wimple.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Laura nodded. “Our friend Diana Quinn was just brought in from the Cheever Aviation plant. She was in an accident.”

“Most unfortunate.” The nun gave them directions to the waiting room.

As they stepped away, Laura turned and asked, “Is there a payphone?”

The nun pointed a crooked finger. “Right around the corner.”

“Thank you, sister,” Joy said.

The phone box was a wooden one with a small bench. The two of them crowded inside. Joy dug around in her pockets and pulled out a small amount of change, sorted it with her finger, plucked a nickel out, and handed it to Laura.

Laura put the nickel in the slot and dialed the number for Diana’s home.

As she dialed, dread settled around her. It was a phone call she didn’t like making.

She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and said to Joy, “What do I say to her? ”

“Keep it simple. You don’t want to upset her too much.” Joy advised.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Quinn? It’s Laura Knickerbocker, Diana’s friend.”

“Is everything all right?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Diana had an accident at the plant, and Joy and I are at the hospital in Cheever with her. Would you be able to come over?”

“Is she, is she . . . dead?” Mrs. Quinn’s voice was shaky.

“Oh goodness, no.”

The older woman’s relief was palpable across the phone line. “I’ll see if my neighbor can drive me over,” she said, and hung up the phone.

Laura and Joy sat next to each other in a small waiting room. They had no idea where Diana actually was in the hospital. Hopefully, someone would come out to them. Within the hour, Mrs. Quinn arrived. Laura and Joy stood and hugged her.

Like her daughter, Mrs. Quinn was a tall woman. She had fine bone structure and her hair, though silvery gray, was thick. She was a handsome woman.

“Now tell me, girls, what happened?” she said when they pulled apart. She held their hands in hers.

“I don’t know the specifics, but her hair got caught in one of the buffers,” Joy explained.

Mrs. Quinn gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Then she asked, “How bad is it?”

Laura looked at Joy before answering, “It looked pretty bad.”

No one was sure what condition Diana would be in, but at least she was alive. It made Laura think of her sister’s friend, Alistair Young. He’d gone off to war and lost his leg. His wife, Harriet, had said that at the time: that she didn’t care, she was just glad he was alive. Laura had to agree, because there was no coming back from death.

They waited many hours. In the meantime, Laura managed to get change for Joy’s dime so they could each make a phone call to their families to let them know where they were and that they’d be late coming home. Laura’s mother was horrified at the news, but there was an undercurrent of relief in her voice that it hadn’t been her daughter.

A nun came into the waiting room, made eye contact, and approached them. She was short and stick thin, but instead of being overwhelmed by her habit, she owned it. Hands tucked into her sleeves, she walked—or rather, glided—toward the trio. The three of them stood up, Mrs. Quinn in the middle with Laura and Joy on either side like two bookends.

“Are you the family of Diana Quinn?” The nun wore a small smile. “You can see her now.”

“Is she all right?” Mrs. Quinn’s voice shook.

The nun tilted her head and gave a slight nod, still smiling. “The doctor will explain everything to you. Follow me.”

Never in her life had Laura met anyone with such presence and grace. The woman was not much taller than Joy, and yet her aura suggested she was meant to be obeyed. Laura thought it was a mistake to hide a person like this in a hospital; she should be over on the front lines, defeating Hitler.

Mrs. Quinn followed directly behind the nun, and Laura and Joy brought up the rear. Their footsteps echoed off the industrial linoleum floor. There was a faint smell of bleach, and Laura looked around. There were no scuff marks on the walls, no dust on the baseboards, and the freshly waxed floor shone to within an inch of its life. There were statues of Jesus and Mary, and crucifixes hung on the wall. Although she wasn’t Catholic, Laura found it oddly comforting.

Diana was in a ward in an iron-framed hospital bed. Her eyes were closed. A thick white bandage completely circled her head. On the right side, her long hair trailed out from beneath the bandages. But the other side was devoid of hair.

A doctor stood at the foot of the bed, writing something on a clipboard. When the three visitors approached, he put the clipboard in its holder at the foot of the bed frame and tucked his pen into the front pocket of his white coat.

Mrs. Quinn went to her daughter and took her hand. “Diana.” Her voice was low. There was no response. Diana appeared to be in a deep sleep. Laura and Joy went around to the other side of the bed.

“Are you the girl’s mother?” the doctor asked.

Mrs. Quinn nodded, and he looked over at Laura and Joy.

“We’re her friends,” Laura said.

“I’m Dr. Pellman.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Diana has suffered a serious injury.”

“How bad is it?” Mrs. Quinn asked.

“The force of the machine pulled out part of her scalp.”

Mrs. Quinn’s shoulders shook as she cried. Joy placed an arm around the older woman and gave her a reassuring squeeze .

“As awful as it sounds, Mrs. Quinn,” Dr. Pellman said, “it could have been a lot worse. Your daughter was lucky. She could have been killed.”

Mrs. Quinn put her hand to her mouth and gasped. Laura thought that comment put things in perspective.

“We’ve just brought her out of surgery. We went in to repair as much of the scalp as we could. We’ve sedated her because she’s in a lot of pain and she needs to rest to heal.”

As Mrs. Quinn continued to sob, Laura asked, “Will she be okay?”

“Eventually. She’s lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. We’re concerned about infection.”

“Will her hair grow back?” Joy asked.

Dr. Pellman shook his head, his expression grave. “No. There’s no way for the hair to grow back without the scalp.”

Mrs. Quinn cried, “She’ll be disfigured?”

Laura swallowed hard. It was too awful to bear.

Dr. Pellman pressed his lips together, rolling them inward. His silence answered the question for them.

Joy rubbed Mrs. Quinn’s back. “She can wear headscarves or wigs. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” But it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well.

They visited Diana as often as they could, but Diana had nothing to say, and would sometimes just lie there staring at the ceiling as Laura and Joy looked on in dismay. They tried to cheer her up, but to no avail.

Mrs. Quinn had told them that when the doctor removed the bandages and Diana took a look at herself in the mirror, she leaned over the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor. And then didn’t eat for two days.

Joy shook her head as they drove away from the hospital. “That poor kid.”

“I feel so helpless,” Laura said. “Helpless and useless.”