*A/N: Trigger warning for a female health issue... It's relatively niche but could be upsetting for some. I'm keen to avoid spoilers, but please feel free to message me if you'd prefer more info before reading.
2nd July 2017
Harry and Eloise have been adjusting to a new normal, but feeling closer than ever.
After a spur of the moment decision, in need of a change of scenery, Anne and Gemma arrived in Hampstead yesterday to stay through the weekend.
Michal drove over from their flat to join their lovely long walk, deep into the Heath, for a picnic yesterday afternoon, but left earlier this morning to play football.
After a slow start, they're gathered in the kitchen, chatting, with the radio on in the background.
Harry has been rapping his mum playfully over the knuckles each time she tries to lift a finger or interfere with his dutiful work, prepping for a Sunday roast.
"Don't make me throw you out of my kitchen!", he warns sassily. "If you insist on making yourself helpful, why don't you grab a bottle of red from the top shelf in the wine cellar?".
>
When Anne quickly returns, placing two bottles on the marble island, he raises an eyebrow at her.
"What? It looks good... And it's after twelve!", she shrugs with a grin, stepping to his bar cabinet to fetch the corkscrew and wine glasses.
She stretches and wiggles her fingertips but can't quite reach them off their high shelf.
With a dejected huff she nudges her hip playfully into Eloise's, where she stands leaning back against the counter, staring distractedly through the patio doors into the garden.
"Hmm? Sorry", she snaps out of it and turns to her.
Seeing Anne nod up to the shelf with a sheepish grin, she smiles and pivots, shuffling closer.
Eloise's extra few inches make the difference and she successfully wraps her fingers around the base of one of the delicate stems. Stretching up on to her tip toes, she suddenly gasps.
In a flash, the fine crystal glass slips from her grasp and she fumbles, trying to avoid it hitting the marble work top.
But she's too slow and the thin stem, sheered off jaggedly near the base, ricochets and catches the side of her palm.
As Anne cries out in shock and flinches away, Eloise's sharp hiss pierces through the noise of the delicate crystal smashing.
It cuts Harry's laughter-laden shout of "Oh, for fuck's sake!" short, and he drops his knife with a clatter to dash over to her.
Grasping her left arm at the elbow, he tugs her back from the broken glass and leads her over to the sink, "Quick, let me see...".
Reaching to turn on the cold tap, he's close enough to hear the deliberately slow and shaky breath she blows out through pursed lips.
Cutting his eyes to her, he sees she's wincing with her eyes screwed shut. Knowing she isn't squeamish about blood, he scans lower and notices her unusually hunched posture, leaning forward slightly with her right arm held tightly against her hip.
"Shit, baby...", he feels her flinch as he presses a large warm hand to the small of her back. "Still bothering you?", he whispers lowly in her ear as he rinses off her hand and peers closer to check for any shards of glass.
At her silent nod, he addresses the others as he wraps her palm loosely with a paper towel. "It's a clean slice but I'm going to find something upstairs to dress it. Can one of you just put the beef in when the oven beeps?". He tugs her gently towards the stairs, "Come on, clumsy".
>
Eloise stands hunched over the sink in their ensuite bathroom, arms braced against the counter.
Harry squats on his haunches below her, rummaging through the back of the cupboard.
"Ah, ha!", he pops back up to his full height, triumphantly wielding a first aid kit.
He sets aside antiseptic wipes, a little pack of butterfly closures and a rectangular adhesive dressing, before turning to straighten her up, guiding her hand under the spotlight to see better.
As she hisses again at the movement, he gets to work whilst fishing for answers. "How are you feeling, really?"
"Hmm... Still not brilliant", she admits lowly. "Pretty shattered; I tossed and turned all night".
"I know".
"Shit, sorry".
"Don't be. Just go back to bed", he says, simply enough.
"No way! That would be so rude", she shakes her head, horrified at the thought of burrowing back under the duvet with guests downstairs. "And what about lunch?".
"The beef needs at least two hours", he shrugs. "Do it. Sleep is always the best medicine".
Once he's finished tending to her hand, he takes matters into his own and guides her towards the bed.
Pulling his hoodie over her head, he stretches the sleeve gently over the dressing on her hand.
Lifting the corner of the duvet for her, he frowns when she lets out a whimper whilst twisting to lay down. Bending over, he drops a kiss to her forehead as he tucks her in. "Rest up, baby".
>
Harry returns a couple of hours later, before serving lunch, to check in on her, with a glass of water and painkillers in one hand, and a hot water bottle tucked under his arm.
He finds her fast asleep, curled into a ball around his pillow, looking a bit sweaty and dishevelled with the duvet tangled around her.
Dropping his wares on the bedside table, he reaches to brush some hair from her face. But, feeling the heat emanating from her, drops his palm to her forehead.
"Shit". She's too warm, but looks oddly pale rather than flushed.
Quickly grabbing a cool wash cloth from the bathroom, he dabs her brow and tugs the duvet lower.
Stroking his hand from the top of her head down to cup her cheek, she reflexively nuzzles into the relative cool of his palm, but doesn't stir.
She must have been feeling worse than she let on. He realises he's never seen her properly unwell, other than colds or hangovers, and doesn't like it.
With a final worried look, he heads back downstairs, palming the rest of the glass of red wine he'd been nursing off on to his mum.
>
A short while later, a disorientated Eloise wakes up to a stabbing pain.
It takes her breath away; she's never felt anything like it. This can't just be cramps.
Steeling herself, she pulls up from her foetal position with a wail, abdomen protesting violently as she twists.
Once the wave of nausea passes and she tries to straighten up, the pain only intensifies and she knows something's very wrong.
She's scared, and in so much pain that she can't call out for Harry. With no idea where her phone is, she grits her teeth, hauls herself up and staggers down the landing, holding her breath against the white hot pain.
It overcomes her as she teeters dizzily near the top of the stairs, vision blurring.
She fuzzily hears Gemma shout her name and vaguely hears chairs push back and hurried footsteps pound on the wooden floor below.
But hunching over at another wave of pain, even more intense than before, shifts her balance and she feels herself starting to fall forward with a shaky gasp before her field of vision narrows and fades.
>
Horrified, and feeling as if he's moving in slow motion, Harry flies around the dining table and hurls himself up the stairs to get to her as fast as possible.
They collide with a smack as he breaks her fall halfway down.
In their tangled limbs he realises she's a dead weight, passed out.
His panic sets in as he carefully scoops her up and carries her to the bottom of the stairs, calling out frantically. "Mum? Quick, please help".
They crowd around her, kneeling close.
Anne taps her cheeks and mops her brow. "El? Eloise? Darling, can you hear me?".
Harry runs his hands lightly over her arms and legs, quickly checking for any obvious damage from her tumble. "Babe? Wake up... I need you to talk to me", he says frantically, feeling desperate.
When his knee barely touches her side as he stretches to reach down her legging-clad shins, they all jump back in alarm as she suddenly comes to with a wail, whimpering and immediately rolling on to her side.
Wrapping herself around Harry's thighs, her arms protectively cradle her abdomen as she tucks up her long legs to crunch tightly into a ball. Her only outwardly visible movement is the frantic flexing and curling of her toes.
Terrified and half fearing broken ribs projecting through her skin, Harry gently eases the sweaty grey Packers t-shirt up, but everything looks normal, aside from her abdominal muscles visibly tensing, as if in spasm.
"Something's really wrong...", she grits out quietly. Jaw clenched, she's white as a sheet and shaking with the pain.
>
Despite his own mounting panic, Harry hunches over her and desperately tries to calm her down, cooing lowly, "It's okay. You're okay. You'll be okay... Try to take deeper breaths, baby, okay?".
Gemma grapples for her phone, putting it on speaker before handing it down to Anne to hold as the operator starts asking questions.
"999. What's your emergency?".
Unable to talk, through teeth gritted in pain, Eloise looks up at Harry pleadingly and he answers for her. "Ambulance".
There's a beep as the line transfers.
"Hello, you're through to the Ambulance Service. With whom am I speaking?".
"My name's Harry".
"And who is the patient?".
"Eloise, my girlfriend. She's in too much pain to talk... Please, send help".
"Okay. Can you give me her full name please?".
"Eloise Cadogan. Oh, do you need her middle name?".
"Just her date of birth".
"18th of June, '93".
"Right, okay, tell me... Where is the pain?".
"Her abdomen".
"Whereabouts?".
Harry looks down as she gestures loosely. "Low down". He tilts his head, as if orientating himself, to add "...Err, on her right".
"Has she ever had appendicitis?".
"No".
"Is she hot? Sweating? Dizzy?".
"Yes, all three. She just fainted and fell down the stairs-".
"Alright, okay...", the operator cuts him off. "Can you confirm your location for me, please?".
He rattles off the address, cutting worried eyes to his mum.
"Right, Harry, did she hit her head or hurt her neck or anywhere else on the stairs?".
Looking back down, he sees her shake her head and confirms "No". After blowing out a shaky breath, he adds "Shit! I didn't even think of that, just scooped her up in a panic...".
"Harry? Stay with me, okay? You're doing well... I know you're worried, but an ambulance is on its way".
When Eloise looks up at him, shaky and ashen-faced, he begs, "Please hurry".
"They'll be with you soon. Now, just a few more questions for you, alright?".
"Thanks. Okay, yes...".
"How long has she been in pain?".
"She was uncomfortable last night, but said she'd had cramps for a day or two... She's been quiet this morning but I didn't know it was this bad... She went back up to bed, so it's got suddenly worse in the last couple of hours at most".
"And you're sure about her appendix?".
"Yes. She doesn't have a scar".
"Has she had any symptoms like this before?".
He looks down again. "No. She's shaking her head, 'no'".
"And could she be pregnant? When was her last period?".
Harry's eyes are already locked on hers but they widen and he visibly gulps as she pales further and squeezes her eyes shut.
He refocuses on the question. "Umm... Three, four weeks ago? And, no. Well, I don't think so... I don't think she is. But, err, it wouldn't be impossible, I guess?", he stutters, cutting his wide eyes back to his mum.
"Alright, I need you to ask Eloise if she's had any bleeding".
"Um, babe?", he squeezes her hand gently. "I'm not sure she's still awake... Oh, no, she shook her head 'no'".
Eloise tightens her grip on his hand as she lets out a whimper.
"Right, so the ambulance will be with you in just a minute, and they'll give her something for the pain... I'm also sending a doctor to check her over. He's five minutes away... Just hold her hand and hold on, okay? I'll stay on the line in case you need me. Just let me know if anything changes".
With a shaky kiss to both their foreheads, Anne stands to open the gate and doors, whilst Gemma runs upstairs to shove some things in a bag for Eloise.
Harry strokes her face, bending to drop a shaky kiss to her hairline and coo soothingly in her ear.
>
He sits back up when Anne ushers two paramedics through; a burly guy and an older woman.
They cast surprised looks at each other when they recognise Harry, but get straight to it.
The woman kneels by Eloise, opposite Harry, whilst the guy starts sorting their kit behind her.
Anne steps back, loitering worriedly by the stairs. Gemma soon joins her, looking on nervously.
"Oh, dear. Eloise, is it?", the female paramedic says softly, reaching to pat her arm. "Love, I know it hurts... But I need you to roll on to your back for me, okay?".
With shaking hands, Harry helps nudge her over. With her mouth frozen open in a grimace, eyes clamped shut, and tears leaking down the sides of her face, he hates every second of it.
As they start going over the same questions, he feels helpless. "Please", he begs, "You need to give her something for the pain".
"We just need to know what we're dealing with...", she explains gently. "My colleague is going to prepare to administer some morphine. It will only take a minute to kick in, okay?".
"Harry, can you tell me Eloise's height and weight please?", the male paramedic asks, consulting a chart.
"She's 5'9", and, umm, about nine stone, give or take".
He nods, double checking the dose before flicking the needle and injecting it into her arm. Distracted by her fierce pain, she doesn't even flinch.
"Eloise? You're not going to like this, but I need to feel your abdomen, okay?", the female paramedic warns, sounding regretful already. "And I'm going to need you to try to take deeper breaths... Listen to Harry's, okay? We don't want you hyperventilating".
Eloise squeezes Harry's hand as the paramedic tugs her t-shirt up and tucks it under the band of her bra. She starts pressing her stomach gently, starting from the top.
Seeing her fearful eyes widen and lock on his as she tightens her grip on his hand again, he leans down over her, breathing slowly and deeply for her to copy, cooing words of reassurance in her ear.
As the paramedic's fingers move lower, circling and pressing, Eloise cries out, biting her lip.
Gasping, she almost head-butts Harry as she reflexively crunches in on herself; white-hot pain shooting through her as she buries her head against his thigh again, whimpering.
The doctor arrives amidst the commotion.
Seeing the paramedic's look of relief, and Eloise's eyes start rolling, whether through pain or the morphine kicking in, has Harry's stress levels through the roof.
The doctor rattles through the same questions faster, whilst braving a prod at a more lucid Eloise's abdomen before unpacking a little portable scanner.
>
"Okay... I don't like this much. Eloise?", the doctor leans closer and shakes her shoulder. "Eloise...? Right, she's out", he sighs.
He addresses Harry instead. "I can't see exactly where it's from on this, but there's definitely some significant inflammation... We need to take her in to work out what's going on. There's a chance she could need surgery to avoid risk of anything rupturing", he explains. "I'll leave my bike here, if that's okay? And go with her in the ambulance to hand over faster at the Royal Free Hospital".
"So, Harry, you're her boyfriend, right?". Seeing his nod, he continues, "I'll need you to follow to sign some consent forms for her, but do call her family. Are you okay to drive?", he asks, reaching a hand over to squeeze his shoulder, worried by his ashen face and features crumpling with worry.
"I am", Gemma says, reaching down to pick up the bag she'd hastily packed.
When Harry gets slowly, stiffly to his feet, to give them room for the stretcher, Anne steps forward and wraps her arms tightly around him. They both watch on in shock at seeing her so limp and helpless. She looks tiny, somehow.
"Wait, can I just-?", Harry steps toward the stretcher, lifting a shaky hand to the crown of her head as he kisses her forehead. "I'll be right behind you... I love you, so much".
There's a beat of shocked silence once the paramedics wheel her through the door and the doctor follows, already on the radio to the hospital.
"Oh, God! Mum, oh, my God...", Harry says tearily to Anne, reaching for her.
She rubs her hands vigorously up and down his arms. It's comforting and rousing, all at once. "Come on... She needs you. Get your things, quick".
>
Gemma pulls the car out the gate and spots a couple of paparazzi a little way down the road, lenses aimed at them and the ambulance.
"Fucking scavengers", she spits out as Harry dives into the back seat whilst Anne shuts the gate.
She hops in the front passenger seat as the ambulance's lights start flashing.
They all jump in shock when the siren bleats as it pulls off.
That it continues blaring sets them all even further on edge.
Following the ambulance closely, and with the roads quiet on a Sunday afternoon, Gemma gets them there in just over five minutes.
With his eyes locked intently on the ambulance in front of them, Harry doesn't utter a word the whole way. Beside himself with worry, he barely even blinks.
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