Maria's Story Read online

  She didn’t know how long she had been laying there. She opened her eyes and looked up at the wonderful clear blue sky. She stared at the beautiful fluffy white clouds rushing past and watched as a bird whizzed backwards and forwards, up and down. At first there was no sound, just silence and stillness. She sensed a light breeze on her face and in her eyes. Then she heard a kind of rumbling sound, which seemed to get louder and louder. She looked up and saw a huge dark blurred shape coming towards her. At first she wasn’t quite sure what it was, and then remembered where she was going and that this huge shape was a train and it seemed to be coming directly at her. She wanted to stand up and run, but she couldn’t move. “I am here!” she screamed, “I am here!” but the train kept coming. She raised one hand in the air and waved and waved as hard as she could.

  “Is that a red light?” asked one driver to the other.

  “Can’t be, there are no signals on this stretch of track,” the other replied.

  “It must be, look,” said the other as he strained forward, squinting his eyes to see the small speck of red that seemed to lay illuminated in the centre of the track ahead.

  “Just a piece of red cloth,” the other replied.

  Feeling something was not quite right, the driver eased off the controls and started to slow a little. They weren’t far from the station and few seconds delay wasn’t going to make much difference.

  Nodding to himself. “It is a piece of cloth,” he confirmed, but just as he was about to accelerate, the piece of cloth moved.

  “Oh my God!” The driver shouted slamming on the brakes. The train shuddered to a stop. The driver locked the breaks, jumped out of the carriage onto the ground below and raced along the tracks. The second driver followed.

  “Oh my God, Oh my God,” the driver cried as he approached little Maria lying helpless between the tracks, tears flowing down his cheeks.

  Little Maria looked up at the two grimy faces with funny hats looking down at her. She wondered why one of them was crying. Soon other blurred faces started to appear around her, crying and sobbing, looking down at her and saying “Poor little thing.” Mother’s ushered their inquisitive children away, grandmothers gasped and wailed.

  She felt someone gently pick her up and ask her name.

  “Maria,” she said, “I am going to see my Grandmother.” She looked around at everyone huddling around her and smiled. She didn’t like it when people cried. Maria closed her eyes and fell unconscious.

  “Maria,” called her mother as she entered the carriage and noticed the neatly wrapped present in the spot Maria was sitting in just a few minutes earlier. “Maria!” she shouted louder. She looked outside and saw the trees rushing by and down again at the box of chocolates. “Where’s my daughter? I asked you to keep a look out for her,” she yelled at the fat lady in uniform sitting hunched up.

  “I think she went for a walk,” she looked up and said groggily, pointing to the next carriage.

  Maria’s mother frantically opened the door leading into passageway between carriages and felt the cold and wind hit her. She saw the door to the carriage was broken and slightly ajar. “No, no no no,” she said over and over again as she rushed into the next carriage.

  “Has a little girl come past here?” she hysterically asked passenger after passenger making her way down the carriage. Everyone said no, they had not seen a little girl. She rushed to the next carriage, and yelled, “Has anyone seen my little girl?” Curious passengers looked round the compartment walls shaking their heads; no one had seen a little girl. An elderly man got up from his seat and said he would go further down the train and ask and that she should go back to her seat, just in case she was hiding somewhere.

  “Thank you, thank you.” She sobbed. “She is five years old and is wearing a little red jacket and red hat with a bobble in the middle. Please find her,” she pleaded.

  Maria’s mother rushed sobbing through the carriage back towards where they had been sitting. As she passed the passageway where the carriage doors were broken and wedged ajar she glanced down at the floor and noticed Maria’s small red glove sitting in the corner.

  Maria woke up and looked around her. She stared up at the white ceiling and across at the white walls and then at the people in white coats standing around her. Her eyes hurt with the bright lights shining down at her. She was so frightened and tried to remember what happened. She couldn’t remember anything and tears started to roll down her cheeks. She wanted her mummy. “Where’s my mummy?” she sobbed. She wanted to tell her mummy that it wasn’t her fault, she just wanted to wave to everyone. She didn’t do anything wrong, promise mummy. She tried to speak again but no words came out.

  “Sshh little Maria, now go to sleep.” She heard a soft voice whisper gently in her ear and felt a hand with a cloth go over her nose and mouth. The cloth smelt funny, but she soon fell into a deep sleep.

  When Maria opened her eyes again she saw a beautiful blue sky and a big fluffy white cloud. But this time the cloud wasn’t moving, and floated just about her. She stared up at the cloud, wondering why it seemed to be getting closer and closer. The cloud looked so lovely, so pretty, so calm. She felt that the cloud was a good cloud, that it was guarding her, looking after her, keeping her safe. She felt as if it was her friend. It seemed that she knew the cloud and the cloud knew her. She smiled up at the cloud and the cloud seemed to smile back. Through her blurred tired eyes the cloud slowly turned into her mummy’s face.

  “Mummy!” she tried to shout, “mummy!” She was so glad her mummy had found her, that now everything would be all right. She was frightened that she was going to be told off for misbehaving, for not sitting still and in one place. She didn’t want to be told off, she just wanted to go home. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked up and saw tears running down her mummy’s cheeks; her mummy was crying too.

  “Don’t cry mummy,” she whispered. “Everything is all right now. You have found me now and I promise I won’t be naughty again. I promise mummy. Can we go to grandma’s now, please?” She looked around for her grandmother’s little box of chocolates she had so carefully guarded. “Where’s grandma’s chocolates?” she asked.

  “Oh my little Maria,” cried her mother, trying to wipe away the endless stream of tears from her eyes. She bent over and hugged Maria, kissing her, splashing her face with her tears. “Please don’t cry mummy,” Maria said, “We can get grandma some more chocolates.”

  “Oh my little Maria,” her mother replied, wiping Maria’s cheeks.

  “I need a wee-wee mummy.” Maria said raising herself a little. She felt strange, a little odd.

  “Wait, I will help you,” her mother replied bending down to get the bedpan from under the bed.

  “Don’t be silly mummy, I can do it myself,” Maria said pushing herself upright as much as she could. Before her mummy could stop her, Maria took hold of the blanket and threw it to one side, preparing to climb out of the bed. She couldn’t move. Maria looked down to where her legs should have been and saw two small bandaged stumps of white cloth. Her face contorted with pain and confusion. “Mummy” she screamed, “Where are my legs?”

  Suddenly pain ripped through her body tearing her apart. She screamed as she remembered falling off the carriage, and seeing her legs go under the huge wheels of the train. She screamed as she felt the bones splinter and break and felt her legs tear away from her body. There was so much unbearable pain, ripping through her tiny body and piercing her mind. Maria’s mind and body could not bear more physical pain. She fell unconscious.

  Chapter Two

  Just Sleeping

  Everyone lost hope of ever seeing Maria alive again. The horrific injuries and the intense psychological trauma were more than most adults could bare, let alone a small five year old child. Everybody thought that Maria would never wake up. For two years she laid unconscious, alone, while her g
randmother looked after her. Her grandmother knew that Maria was only sleeping and believed, without doubt or hesitation, that everything would eventually be all right, that she would one day wake up and they would go all home together. At times her mother, in despair and desperation, would plead with the doctors to turn off the machines that were keeping her daughter alive and to disconnect the apparatus that surrounded her poor invalid child. She didn’t want Maria to suffer any longer, she wanted Maria to go to a safe, happy place full of little children and fairies and a beautiful blue sky with fluffy white clouds. She wanted Maria to be happy and not to feel any sadness or despair or pain. She recognised that, even if Maria did survive and did eventually wake up, her life would not be easy.

  At night, her mother would dream about little Maria running in the snow and jumping up and down in the puddles on that fateful day they left their apartment to catch the train. She would see Maria climbing the big old tree outside their apartment, running in the summer school race, skipping in the park, climbing the wooden play frames, running with their neighbour’s dog, being chased and chasing other children. Every morning she would wake up crying into her pillow, missing Maria so much it was virtually unbearable. She prayed Maria would get better yet she somehow also prayed that she would quietly and painlessly pass away into the other world. She couldn’t imagine a world for her daughter without legs, a world confined to a wheelchair, having to be pushed around and missing out on everything a young child should experience. They were, of course, other disabled children living in their village, but very few and they were rarely seen; they hardly ever went outside and spent most of their lives hidden away, unseen, cooped up in front of the television in their tiny run-down apartments. Getting around for someone with such disabilities in a small Siberian town was virtually impossible; paths were terrible, steps impractical, access to most places impossible. The thought of Maria sitting in her chair while others played and danced and ran around made her mother’s sorrow greater and cry harder. She blamed herself for what happened to her gorgeous little daughter, if she hadn’t have gone to the toilet, if she hadn’t have left Maria in that carriage alone, if she hadn’t chosen a carriage with a broken door, if she hadn’t have trusted her daughter’s welfare to a drunk, Maria would be with her now talking about everything and anything, laughing and giggling and being silly. Instead, her beautiful little daughter was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, while she cried night after night wishing that things could all change, that time could be turned back.

  Maria wasn’t in pain, she was just sleeping and dreaming of all the beautiful things in the world. She dreamt of the first day of summer when she and her mum went down to the lake. It was a lovely sunny day and the lake glistened like stars in the sky. Maria excitedly took her shoes and socks off, hitched up her skirt and ran to the water line. Even though it was summer the water was still icy cold and Maria gave a quick shriek as she touched the water with her big toe.

  “Ouch, it is so cold Mummy,” Maria shouted while looking down at the water hoping it would suddenly turn a little warmer. It didn’t. Maria slowly and nervously eased her whole foot in, inch by inch, shrieking loudly as the cold numbed her tiny feet.

  “Are you going to paddle or not?” Maria’s mother called to her laughingly, as she followed Maria to the water line and watched as she tried to immerse her foot. “Go on, in you go,” she said, giving her a gentle push on the shoulder.

  “Mummy, don’t,” cried Maria, “it is so cold.” Then suddenly both feet were in and she was splashing around as though the cold had vanished and the water was as warm as her bath. “Come on then,” Maria called back to her mother. Maria’s mother crouched down and took off her two shoes and eased herself slowly into the water.

  Maria dreamt of the two of them, paddling and splashing around in the water, trying not to get their clothes wet, shrieking with the cold, yet laughing and giggling and having so much fun together. She saw other children running up and down the sandy shore, shouting to one another, playing Pioneer ball, playing ‘catch me,’ throwing Frisbees and playing hopscotch. She could see other children skipping and eating ice cream and families sitting together having picnics; the lake was such a fun place in the summer.

  Suddenly the lake turned into ice. It was winter and Maria was kneeling tying up the laces to her skating shoes. She looked up and saw all the people in their woollen hats and tightly wrapped scarves skating round and round an imaginary shape in the centre of the small lake. Maria loved to skate and almost every weekend when it wasn’t snowing, she and her mother would go down to the lake and skate together, until Maria found some friends, which invariably didn’t take long. Maria’s mother would then stand on the side of the lake smiling as she watched Maria and her friends play. Maria waved as she whizzed passed her mother, laughing with her little friend Sofia who was chasing her.

  “Can’t catch me, can’t catch me,” Maria called to Sofia.

  “Yes I can, Yes I can,” Sofia shouted back. They weren’t going very fast but Maria thought that they were as fast as lightening. In her dreams Maria looked down at herself and her friend playing together on the icy lake and watched as they both circled the lake, calling to one another and playing and laughing. It started to snow, ever so lightly, and Maria could feel the small flakes get into her eyes as she sped her way around the lake. In her unconsciousness Maria’s eyes fluttered a little as she dreamed of the icy lake and little Sofia just a few feet behind her, giggling as she tried to grab Maria’s coat-tail.

  The lake turned into the playing field next to the kindergarten. It was the sports day, the day before the summer holidays, and all the children were smartly dressed in their white t-shirts and red shorts. Maria sat with all her friends on the grass alongside the track, with parents, brothers and sisters, grandmothers and grandfather sitting behind on blankets and jackets. Maria kept peering back, occasionally giving a little smile and wave to her mother, who smiled and waved back. Maria was going to run in the next race. She thought about the pretty certificate she would get for winning and remembered the plaque in the foyer of the kindergarten above the entrance thanking their ‘Mother Country’ for their happy childhood.

  “All children in the sack race put your hands up,” said Maria’s teacher, towering over all the little children, huddled, giggling, excited.

  Maria reached for the sky. She was going to run like the wind and make her mummy really proud and happy.

  “Everyone over there at the start line,” her teacher called, pointing to a white piece of ribbon anchored down with two clothes pegs. Two teachers ushered the children together as they scrambled up and over to the start line.

  “Come on everyone, line up,” said the teacher. Maria and all her friends lined up, each with one foot just touching the little white ribbon trailing along the grassy floor. The teacher grabbed the bundle of sacks lying in a pile and placed one sack in front of each of the children lining up ready to run.

  “When I say go, everyone get into your sack and bounce and bounce as fast as you can down the track,” called out the teacher. “You can all bounce, can’t you?” she cried.

  “Yes!” cried everyone.

  “I can’t hear you. You can all bounce can’t you?” the teacher called putting her hand to her ear.

  “Yes!” cried the children even louder.

  “Those that bounce the best will get a sweet.” Maria loved sweets and would bounce and bounce and bounce until she couldn’t bounce any more.

  “Ready, Steady, Go!” her teacher shouted and all the little children raced forward, as fast as they could, scrambling into their sack and bouncing their way down the short track. From the corner of her eye Maria could see her mother jumping up and down, cheering and shouting and calling her name. She could see her friend Sofia’s mother doing the same, in fact she could see all the parents and relatives and friends of all the children jumping and screaming and shouti
ng and waving their flags. Maria jumped her way down the track to the end and to a huge cheer.

  “Everyone jumped so well,” the teacher called “everyone can have a sweet.” The children cheered as they struggled out of their sacks, dumping them where they fell, and huddled round the teacher with their hands out stretched waiting for a tasty sweet.

  ***

  Shortly after the accident Maria was moved from the small poorly equipped clinic in her village to the region’s biggest hospital in Tumen, the town her grandmother lived. For two years Maria laid unconscious in the hospital bed sleeping and dreaming about all the wonderful fun things. Every single day Maria’s grandmother would visit her, carefully cleaning her wounds and changing her bandages, gasping tearfully each and every time she saw those two raw stumps on her granddaughter’s beautiful tiny body. No one touched little Maria apart from her. She would delicately clean the healing wounds and carefully cover them again with fresh linen she personally brought to the hospital. She didn’t trust the hospital or their products, and so she would spend most of her meagre pension buying new liniments and ointments, bandages and dressing. She would wash Maria every single day, change her clothes, clean her teeth, cut her nails, brush her hair, read to her, talk to her or just sit by her side holding her delicate, little hand. There were many days when her grandmother went without food so that her granddaughter could have fresh dressing and clean clothes.