Disclaimer: All recognisable character belong to HiT Entertainment. All OCs belong to me.

Chapter 12

Ring! Ring! Ring!

I groaned sleepily, trying to ignore the sound of the phone ringing somewhere nearby. Someone finally answered it.

"Newtown Hospital Children's ward, Nurse Baker speaking. Samuel Jones? Yes, he should be well enough for you to visit him today. Are you a friend or family member? Oh, I see. I'll discuss it with his doctor, but I don't see why you wouldn't be allowed to visit. Our visiting hours are between ten a.m. and four p.m. All right. Thanks for calling."

Did our house really catch fire last night, or did I only dream it?

Moaning, I reluctantly opened my eyes. Looking around, I realised that what had happened last night hadn't been a dream. Our house had caught fire and I'd very nearly died. The first thing I saw was the white ceiling overhead. Then, I noticed that another boy with blonde hair was standing beside my bed.

"What happened to you?" he asked with a sneer.

Before I could reply, a nurse entered the ward. "What are you doing out of bed, Hamish? Look, we've told you repeatedly to stay in bed. Your stitches will never heal if you don't stay still. Next time I catch you out of bed, I'll have you strapped down."

"I was just checking out the new boy," Hamish said as he begrudgingly climbed back into bed.

"Yes, well, you need to leave him alone. He needs to rest, and so do you."

"I just want to go home."

"That's for the doctor to decide. He might decide to send you home early if you behave yourself. Now, what colour jelly would you like for breakfast?"

"I'm sick of jelly. I want something else."

"I'm afraid you can't have anything else yet."

Hamish exhaled crossly. "Fine! I'll have green jelly."

The nurse came over to me, and she picked up my chart. "How are you feeling this morning, Sam? I heard about what happened to you last night. Sorry."

I just sighed sadly in response. The nurse went through the routine of checking my pulse and temperature. I watched her write down a few things on my chart, before she returned it to its holder at the foot of my bed.

"Your doctor has said you may have whatever you like for breakfast. Here's the menu."

"But that's not fair!" Hamish whined.

The nurse glared sternly at him. "Unlike you, Sam hasn't had surgery. Now, stop complaining and lie still. You're not supposed to be up at all yet."

How on earth did I get lumbered in a ward with that brat? I thought as I took the menu from the nurse. My nose started to itch then, so I tried to reach under the oxygen mask with my index finger.

"Leave that alone please, Sam," the nurse instructed.

"But my nose is itchy!"

Reluctantly, the nurse helped me remove the mask so I could scratch my nose. "Better now?"

I nodded, and she fitted the mask back into position. Then, I looked at the breakfast menu. "Can I have two pieces of French toast, orange juice and fruit salad, please?"

The nurse nearly laughed. "Well, I'm glad to see that your appetite hasn't been affected. I'll be back in about ten minutes. Stay in bed, Hamish."

I lay quietly after the nurse had gone. There must've been some sort of nurse's station across the hallway from the ward, because I could hear the radio going. Since I had nothing better to do, I focused on listening to it.

"…and it is rumoured that Prince Charles does intend to visit Cardiff as part of his royal tour to the south-west early next month. To local news now. We have just received a report of a fire on the outskirts of Pontypandy late last night. The fire began at about eleven p.m. and it quickly spread to a neighbouring property, resulting in both houses being totally destroyed. An eight-year-old boy was rescued by local firefighters from the first house, but sadly the deceased body of an elderly man was found in the adjacent house early this morning. An investigation has been launched to determine the cause of the fire…"

I immediately felt sick. Mr Johnstone died? No! He was supposed to be here, in Newtown, with his sister! How could… I'd started to hyperventilate, which caused my injured lungs to constrict to the point where I could scarcely breathe. Seeing my distress, Hamish slammed his fist into the red emergency alarm that was sticking out of the wall between our beds.

Within a matter of seconds, a doctor and two nurses had dashed into the ward. "He's having a severe panic attack," one nurse diagnosed.

The doctor turned to the second nurse. "See if you can get him to calm down." Then, he looked at the first nurse. "You might have to get some ice to shock him out of it."

While the first nurse hurried away to fetch some ice, the second nurse helped me sit up. Tears were streaming down my cheeks owing to my distress. The nurse placed an arm around my shoulders. "It's okay. I want you to concentrate on taking some nice deep breaths for me, all right?"

I tried to do what she said, but my mind kept screaming at me. I'm a murderer! As soon as they find out how the fire started, the police will come and drag me away to prison!

The first nurse returned then, and she placed an ice pack down on my right hand. The shock from the sudden chill made me gasp, which had the result of opening my throat so I could breathe. I drew in several deep breaths until I had calmed down sufficiently. The doctor gently felt my neck for my pulse.

"Keep a close eye on him, Nurse Greaves," he said to the second nurse. "He should sleep now." The doctor went over to Hamish. "Were you the one who hit the emergency alarm?"

Hamish nodded sheepishly. The doctor smiled, and he patted Hamish on the shoulder.

"Well done. You did the right thing. Would you like some ice cream as a treat?"

"Yes, please!"

I shivered violently. The second nurse covered me with an extra blanket. "Try to get some rest. We can talk about what happened, later."

I don't want to talk about it. Ever! Nobody must ever know what I've done…

…

I was awoken a few hours later when a nurse gently touched my shoulder. "Sam? You have some visitors, and it's time for your next dose of medicine," she told me kindly as I slowly blinked open my eyes. She removed my oxygen mask, just as mum, dad and granddad entered the ward.

I propped myself up on an elbow, which made me start coughing. "Where's Charlie?" I asked between coughs.

"He's at school," dad explained. "He wanted to go."

I wish I could be so lucky. Looking around, I noticed that Hamish wasn't in the ward anymore. "Where's Hamish?"

"He's gone to have another examination," the nurse explained. "Lie back down for me please, Sam." I did so, and she placed another oxygen mask over my face. "Breathe in deeply. That's it… Keep going… And that'll do for now. Good boy. Well done, Sam." She removed the mask. "You didn't have your breakfast before. Would you like it now?"

"Yes, please." I sat up properly this time. Thanks to the medication I'd just inhaled, I didn't start coughing again. The nurse placed a tray of food across my lap. I wasn't really hungry, but with mum standing there watching me, I started to eat anyway. After the nurse had written down something on my chat, she left us alone.

"How have you been, Sam?" mum asked as she sat down on the edge of my bed.

"Sleeping, mostly. Is the house okay?" I asked the question even though I already knew what the answer would be.

"Sadly, it'll have to be demolished, along with the house next door," dad replied. "We're just lucky it was insured."

"So…where will we live?"

"We're staying with the Griffiths until we can buy a new house," mum explained. She stroked my hair fondly. "Guess we'll have to live in the middle of town now."

I sighed despondently. Great! Now Charlie will be able to get even closer to Bronwyn. They'll probably start kissing…ew! Having lost what little appetite I had, I put what was left of my breakfast aside.

"If you're feeling tired, Sam, we can leave you to let you sleep," dad suggested.

"I am a bit," I admitted. "But I was wondering if I could talk to granddad alone?"

Mum and dad exchanged surprised glances. Granddad smiled warmly at me.

"Of course you can!" He looked at my parents. "Close the door behind you, please?"

"But...!" mum started to protest, until dad escorted her out of the ward.

"We'll just be out in the waiting room," dad said.

Once the door had closed, I looked sadly up at granddad. "Mr Johnstone died in the fire, didn't he?"

Granddad was surprised. "How on earth did you find that out?"

"It was on the radio this morning."

"Oh. And I supposed you're upset by that?"

I nodded. "The pwca was right, wasn't she?"

With a heavy sigh, dad sat down on the edge of my bed, right where mum had been. "I suppose she was. But Sam… You need to understand that not everything I tell you is the truth. A lot of the stories I've told you are just that – stories. This is an ancient land, and many incidents have been grossly exaggerated over time."

"But I saw the pwca."

Granddad didn't say anything for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I don't know what you saw the other night, Sam," he finally said quietly.

"What?" I sat up, stunned. "But you… You said you believed me! Mum told you to say this, didn't she?"

"Look, Sam… The truth is…pwcas don't exist. I told you the stories because I wanted you to know them as part of our family's history. But there is no truth to them. I just played along to help you feel better. Now I can see just how wrong that was."

Too shocked to say anything, I slowly lay back down. He lied to me… He's always been lying to me… "Well, did you mean everything else you said then? About me being descended from a Welsh King?"

"Yes, that story is true. I can show you the family tree, if you like."

"I don't know…"

Granddad sighed sadly. "Look, I'm really sorry, Sam. I didn't realise you'd believe those stories. Charlie didn't, and your parents don't either."

Then what did I see the other night? It can't be anything other than a pwca. I guess no one will ever believe me now…

Granddad tenderly ran his fingers through my hair. "Something else is worrying you, isn't it?"

I bit my bottom lip nervously. "Have they found out what caused the fire?"

"No, but they believe it started in your bedroom. Did you put something too close to the heater?"

I shook my head slightly. Then, I couldn't hold my tears back any longer. Granddad pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly.

"Shh… It's okay, Sam. You're safe. That's the main thing."

"But I killed Mr Johnstone!" I blurted out.

Startled, granddad pulled back so he could look me in the face. "What?"

"I tried to light a fire at the foot of my bed to keep the pwca away!" I confessed between sobs. "But the match went out. I heard mum coming, so I covered the wood with clothes, so she wouldn't see it. But the match must've caught alight again, and started the fire." Tears were streaming down my cheeks now. Granddad hugged me tightly again. "I won't have to go to prison, will I?" I asked in a low whisper.

"Oh, Sam! Regardless of what you did, it wasn't your fault. You're just a child, and you're not responsible for your actions yet. If anything, it's our fault for not being more careful with where we left the matches. Who knows? Maybe that match did go out, and the fire was caused by something else in your room? We may never know for sure, but one thing I do know. You won't be sent to prison."

"Promise?" I asked with a sniffle.

"Yes. I promise. I'll only say something if the fire investigators discover the cause. I won't even tell your parents. There's no need for anyone else to know about this. How are you feeling now?"

"Tired," I muttered. My tears had almost dried up by now, and I was feeling mentally exhausted. I had a lot to think about. Granddad helped me lie back down, and he fitted the oxygen mask over my face.

"You get some sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up."

I closed my eyes slowly. Smiling, granddad started to sing a gentle lullaby in Welsh. It was the one he and mum had sung to me when I was a toddler, so I knew it well.

"Huna'n dawel, heno, huna. Huna'n fwyn, y tlws ei lun; Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu, gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun? Ai angylion fry sy'n gwenu, arnat ti yn gwenu'n llon, tithau'n gwenu'n ôl dan huno, huno'n dawel ar fy mron?"

As the singing faded away, I sensed that granddad had gone over to the door. He opened it silently.

"Sam's asleep now," I heard him whisper to mum and dad as they re-entered the ward.

"What did he want to talk to you about?" mum asked.

"The fire. He's rather shaken up by it," granddad replied truthfully.

"In that case, why did he only want to talk to you?"

"Mary, sometimes children are afraid to talk to their parents. Sam wanted a shoulder to cry on, and he obviously felt more comfortable with me."

"But I'm his mother!"

Dad cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss this out in the waiting room, so we don't disturb Sam?"

"You didn't spend seven and a half hours in labour having him!" mum hissed to granddad as the three off them left the ward. I groaned in disbelief after I heard the door close behind them.

Did she have to bring that up? Why are mums so embarrassing?