Down the hall at the nurse's station sat doctor Ugarney. Behind the desk, she had been filling out the day's reports and eating her lunch, a tuna salad sandwich, when an alarm sounded, and a red warning light began to blink on the cardiac panel in front of her. She jumped up, startled, sending her sandwich and coffee spilling across the desk top. As she ran through the ward between the beds, she called for the nurses and the cardiac trolley. Approaching Janet's curtained off bed she could see a bright green light shining through the material. Drawing back the dividing curtain, Ugarney watched the light dim and vanish, leaving Stirling standing beside Janet with his hand on her forehead and crying. The doctor pushed him aside and began to perform CPR. Nurses arrived pushing Stirling further back. They tore open Janet's gown and applied conductive gel to the defibrillator paddles and passed them to the doctor. Ugarney placed the paddles to Janet's chest, one on top and one on the side and shouted.

'Clear'

The nurses stepped back as the doctor pressed the button. The electric shock sent Janet's body into seizure, arcing up in the air. Every muscle in her body strained to their fullest and then relaxed, allowing her to fall back down onto the bed. The flat tone of the monitor continued to ring out. Doctor Ugarney replaced the paddles to her chest, ready for another charge and shouted,

'Set to 300.'

A nurse turned to the machine and then back to the doctor, repeated what she said and nodded. The doctor pressed down on her chest again.

'Clear.'

Janet arced into the air, every single muscle in her body spasmed. Her fingers curling into the sheets and then she fell back down onto the bed. Stirling watched as they fought in vain to bring her back. Hearing the flat tone of the monitor he turned to leave and said to deaf ears, 'She's gone. There's nothing you can do for her now. Let her rest.'

Stirling walked through the ward, and past the other patients. His face wet with tears. He said to no one in particular, 'I've got her now. She will be safe with me. She will be safe with the others!'

With one last look back, he could see nurses pulling the curtain back around Janet's bed. He knew that he had to go home to Kate and break the sad news.

Janet had only been 33 when her heart had finally given up. They had all told little Kate that her mother would be coming home soon. But she had never seen her again. No chance of a last kiss. No cuddle, no opportunity to say goodbye. That was when Kate had learned that all adults lied, even the nice ones. Kate was now an orphan, and her grandfather was her only living relative, her only guardian.

On the evening of her mother's funeral, Kate's grandfather had found her sitting alone in her bedroom crying softly, clutching Pumpkin to her face, soaking up her tears. Pumpkin was an orange teddy bear that her mother had won for her at a coconut shy during a visit to the beach the previous summer. Kate remembered the funny old man in the shy passing her the teddy, but he had dropped it over the edge of the counter at her feet. Before she had chance to catch it a stranger beside her bent and retrieved the bear for her.

Ruffling Kate's hair, he said, 'Careful, Katie dear. Always be careful' and as if he'd never been there, the stranger was gone. She had told her mother about the stranger with orange hair like pumpkin, and who had known her name. Her mother had seemed startled at this but told her not to worry. Kate knew her mother had been upset about the stranger. Later she had heard her mother and grandfather arguing about someone called Mercer. The day at the beach had been the last truly happy time they had spent together. Shortly afterwards was the first time her mother had fallen ill.

Kate's grandfather closed Kate's bedroom door, walked over and sat down by her side. Draping a protective arm around her shoulders, Stirling placed a small brass clock into her hand. A faint green light flashed from his fingertips to the clock face and then slowly faded away. Kate's small confused, tear streaked face looked from the clock and up into her grandfather's grim, serious face.

'This was your mother's clock, and her mother before her and I think you should have it now, Kate. Do you think you could look after it for me, for your mother, my sweet?'

Stirling stroked her hair and removed a lock from of her face.

'Your mummy is still with you, in your heart, and loves you very much. She would want you to have the clock, to keep it safe for her. Can you do this for her, my sweet?'

Kate put Pumpkin down safely onto her bed, and held the clock in her hands. She ran her fingers around its smooth satin sides. She could feel it vibrate in the palms of her hands as it ticked with an unusual thrum thrum thrum. It felt like a beating heart against her fingertips. Her own heart began to pick up speed. The pulse of the clock coursed up her arms and began to beat to her own rhythm.

Stirling reached over, and with a finger under Kate's chin, lifted up her face. With a comforting smile, he asked,

'Can you do this for me, my sweet?'

Kate gently cradled the clock in her hands. It was warm to the touch and strangely comforting. With a smile she said 'Yes, yes I can keep it safe, granddaddy'.