The operating theatre was full of noise; Nurse Davenport and Alun were chatting animatedly about a gig they'd been to the previous night, and Mr Rose was alternatively singing jovially and detailing a golf match last week, pausing only to take a puff of his pipe.
The noise made the silence between Jill and Gordon slightly less unbearable for her; there was no pressure for themselves to create conversation with each other. Even though they'd shared a level of closeness at the mine, things were still awkward between them; they hadn't had a chance to talk things through, she hadn't had a chance to apologise. So although he didn't appear to be as angry with her as he had every right to be, general chit chat was still out of the question.
The volume of the noise increased. Nurse Davenport and Alun had descended into fits of giggles, and Mr Rose was becoming ever louder as his story neared the 18th hole.
"BP's dropping rapidly." Gordon said, not loudly, at a normal volume, but enough to cut through the noise nonetheless.
Silence descended as Mr Rose and Jill both searched urgently, but thoroughly for the cause.
"She must be bleeding internally." Mr Rose growled. "Nurse, another two litres of blood."
Nurse Davenport dashed out through the doors, leaving them to swing behind her to reveal her retreating back before closing on everything outside the theatre.
"BP's still falling."
"Blast it!"
"There!" Jill exclaimed, indicating the artery, which Mr Rose swiftly clamped and tied off with expertise.
"BP still falling."
Jill searched frantically for another bleed, becoming increasingly desperate as precious seconds passed, chances becoming slimmer, hope fading. She couldn't lose her now. Julie had come through so much, she had to survive, had to overcome the last hurdle.
Seconds were ticking away. And with each one, Julie deteriorated more.
Jill glanced up at the clock. It was hours since she'd been brought into theatre. The second hand moved, and again. The ticking seemed to be all that was filling the room. No one made a noise. She could sense Gordon, controlling the anaesthetic, watching Mr Rose and herself as they searched methodically, again, and again. But still she continued to lose blood, just as the clock continued to tick. The drip Nurse Davenport had attached a few minutes previously replenished the blood, but it was lost just as quickly.
She glanced up at Mr Rose, a film of sweat covering his furrowed brow, his eyes fixed on the patient. She glanced at the clock; tick, tick. She returned her attention to Julie, just as the ticking was blocked out by a new noise; a long, continuous beep.
"She's arresting!"
The theatre became a hive of activity. Nurse Davenport dashed across to wheel the defibrillator over, then her and rapidly Alun set it up. Jill took her position by the child, took a deep breath, and began the chest compressions, her hands working a steady rhythm. The monotonous beep continued. And still, even though it wasn't heard, the second hand continued to tick.
"Stand clear!" Mr Rose shouted. They all sprang away, watching anxiously as the surgeon used the defibrillator with expertise, delivering a shock to the girl's body. Then their attentions turned to the heart monitor, staring, listening for any change, for a break in the line, for a break in the unending noise. Another shock was delivered, and still no change.
Mr Rose growled his frustration, but continued nevertheless. Gordon sat rigid. Jill twisted her gown in her hands, holding her breath. Nurse Davenport blinked back tears. Alun gripped the side of the instruments' trolley. The clock ticked away the seconds, minutes.
"It's hopeless!" They all shot their heads up to look at Mr Rose, as he stepped away. "She's gone."
Out of the corner of her eye, Jill saw Gordon reach for the heart monitor. She shook her head vigorously. "Mr Rose, just try a while longer. Please!"
The surgeon shook his head too. "She's gone. It's a damn shame, but there's nothing to be done." He turned and walked away from Julie
"Mr Rose, please!" The desperation was evident in her voice, in her anguished expression, in her trembling hands. "Please!"
"Jill."
She turned at hearing Gordon's quiet voice.
"It's over Jill."
She shook her head, but this time it was in resignation.
The heart monitor was switched off, the beep stopped, and the theatre descended into a sombre silence.
Only the clock was heard, continuing regardless.
