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| What could be the repercussions of ignoring this rule? | |
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Mark and Jane were
enjoying their two-week honeymoon, staying in her parent's Spanish
holiday villa, in a compact residential urbanization in the Costa
Blanca. They had been married on Jane's twenty-first birthday and
Mark is almost three years older.
It was the seventh
day of their married life. The cloudless azure sky was offering no
protection from the searing heat of the blazing fireball directly
above them. To try to cool themselves they decided to use the
communal swimming pool for a refreshing dip in the crystal clear
water. It was only the second day that they had used the facility.
On the previous
occasion, two days before, it had been brought to their attention, by
two of the older and permanent residents within the complex, that the
use of inflatable air-beds or similar objects was not permitted in
the pool area. George, a placid and polite gentlemen, on entering the
area and seeing Mark and Jane's inflatable armchair floating on the
water had said: “It's not Edith's and my intention to be killjoys
but air-bed type things are not permitted in the pool. The rules
displayed on the poolside notice board clearly confirm this fact.”
“My parents own
part of this pool so the rules don't apply to us. The rules are only
for visitors so we'll do what we want when we want,” retorted Jane.
“The rules are for
the safety of everyone using the area,” Edith replied amicably.
“It's a stupid
rule,” said Mark, adding as an afterthought, “and we don't need
boring old farts telling us what to do.”
From the solarium of
the villa they could see that no one else was in the pool area so
they decided to continue to ignore the rules and for the second time
take the fuchsia blow-up armchair for Jane to use on the water. Mark
had purchased the throne for his princess on their visit to the
beach, at the start of their holiday, as it was in her favourite
colour.
Although both she
and Mark were adequate swimmers, Jane found the movement of the
floating armchair on the water, when Mark created breaking waves each
time he performed one of his show-off dives, a little unnerving. She
liked to keep the buoyant armchair close; within a steadying arm's
reach; to the promenade edge of the pool to ensure she wasn't tipped
over into the water. Especially today as she didn't want to get her
hair wet.
After fifteen
minutes of Jane sitting relaxed and regal in the floating princess'
throne and Mark getting bored with executing his mediocre range of
dives he said: “Come on Jane you can't sit there all of the time,
get in and have a swim.”
“No; I've told you
as we're going out tonight I don't want to get my hair wet. That
travel hair dryer is useless.”
“Never mind that
I'm sure I've seen a more powerful one in your mum's wardrobe.”
With that Mark dived
into the water. Keeping himself underwater, as close to the bottom of
the pool as possible, he swam towards Jane and positioned himself
directly under the inflatable, invisible to her sitting relaxed
above. He bent his legs, bringing his knees as close to his chest as
possible, with his feet touching the base of the pool. He stretched
his arms straight-up towards the underside of Jane's floating haven
and uncoiled his ranine legs, pushing hard onto the floor to give him
maximum speed towards the surface. The combination of the forces, of
his hands hitting the armchair and the bow wave created by his rapid
movement through the water, threw Jane from the lifting, capsizing
inflatable towards the side of the pool. Everything happened so
quickly and unexpectedly that she wasn't able to react to protect
herself. Her scream was silenced when her head crashed into the
overhanging kerb-stone of the pool edge.
Pleased with his
successful torpedoing of Jane into the water, Mark quickly swam
underwater to the shallow end of the pool to protect himself from the
anticipated wrath of Jane, by putting distance between the two of
them. On surfacing, his underwater internal chuckling changed to
external raucous laughing. His eyes were drawn first to the large
fuchsia island floating upside-down on the far side of the pool. He
looked for Jane, expecting to see her rapidly swimming towards him to
reap her revenge. But she wasn't: Jane was lying face down,
motionless in the water.
He waited a few
moments anticipating a sudden movement when she would start her
attack. She remained still: the only movement was the effect of the
ripples in the water on her body. He thought she couldn't hold her
breath much longer. She didn't raise her head to breathe.
“Come on Jane,
enough is enough, stop mucking about.” He waited for a reaction –
there wasn't one.
“Jane! Stop it!”
he shouted and speedily swam towards her.
On reaching her, he
grabbed hold of her shoulder that was furthest away from him and
pulled it towards himself to roll her onto her back. He expected her
to attack him but she lay motionless. There was no gasping for
breath. Her glassy eyes were staring skywards. Her lips had a light
blue hue. There was a large graze and bruising to her temple. She was
unconscious.
Mark knew he had to
get Jane out of the water and get her breathing. He pushed her to
the side of the pool. He tried to lift her out but the water was too
deep; he couldn't stand on the bottom; so each time he tried, her
weight pushed him underwater. He leapt out of the water onto the
side, and tried to lift her from there. He couldn't hold on to her
wet body, her flimsy bikini didn't give him enough fabric to grip
hold of, and she was too heavy for him on his own. They were alone in
the swimming pool area.
He started shouting:
“Help . . . Help . . . I need help here!”
There wasn't any
response. No one seemed to be about. It was the middle of siesta
time, the hottest part of the day, so most sensible people were
indoors in the cool shade.
The only way he was
going to get her out of the water was to move her to the shallow end.
He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her along like a floating
manikin.
He continued
shouting: “Help . . . Help . . . I need help here in the pool!”
Once he'd got Jane
to where he thought the water was shallow enough Mark jumped into the
water alongside her. He put his arms underneath Jane and started to
lift her. As soon as her body was level with the beige kerb-stones he
rolled her away from himself towards the safety of dry land.
He heard a male
voice, from the area of the entrance gate into the pool area: “Hello
in there, how can I help you?”
“My wife has had
an accident in the water. I don't think she's breathing. Please come
and help me.”
“The gate is
locked. I can't get in.”
“I'll get our key
and come and let you in.” Mark said as he rushed to where Jane and
he had put their towels. He couldn't find it. “I can't find the
bunch of keys. Where the hell is it. . . Damn she must have had it
with her sunglasses and mobile phone in the cup holder in the
armchair. As it's turned over they're all at the bottom of the pool.
Please call 112 and tell them I need an ambulance for her urgently.”
“No problem. I'll
also go and find someone who's got a key so the medics can get in
when they arrive. I'll get some extra help.”
Mark knew he had to
do something to start Jane breathing. He hadn't had any training in
giving CPR but he'd seen it being enacted in television programmes.
He had to try. Anything was better than nothing.
George and Edith had
risen from their siesta and as they leisurely approached the pool
area for their daily rejuvenating swim they could see the fuchsia
inflatable and Mark leaning over Jane, his arms outstretched in front
of himself, repeatedly pushing down on her chest.
“What game are
those two love-birds up-to now? We could do without rudeness from
them again,” said George.
“There's something
wrong George, I can sense it, come on hurry-up let's get in there.”
“She's not
breathing; I can't get her to breathe; I don't know what I'm supposed
to do!” shouted Mark when they reached him.
“Come on son, get
up out the way, let Edith deal with this; she's a retired accident
and emergency nurse. I'll do my bit by calling 'Emergencies' on 112.”
He refrained from mentioning to Mark that they might be old but they
weren't useless old farts. Now was not the time – perhaps later.
Edith went into
automatic mode. She knelt down beside Jane, placed one hand over the
other, fingers interlocked, on her patients breastbone, in-line with
the nipples, and started the rapid depressions. She was thinking to
herself: 'Push 1, 2, 3 . . . . 28, 29,30. Hold the head back; make
sure the airway is clear; pinch the nose; cover the mouth and
blow in two breaths. Push 1, 2, 3 . . .
It was nearly twelve
minutes, although it seemed like hours had passed, before they heard
the duo-tone siren of the SUMA ambulance coming to help. George had
ensured that the entrance gates to the complex and the swimming pool
had been secured open to allow the medics fast, easy access. Edith
was tiring; her energy and strength almost used up doing CPR during
the long wait; and relieved to hand over to the ambulance team. She
was despondent, distraught that she hadn't managed to get Jane to
return.
The conclusion of
the investigation carried out by the Guardia Civil officers who
attended the scene was that it was an unfortunate case of accidental
death. Jane had become unbalanced when she climbed onto the
inflatable armchair, that contrary to the rules of the complex was
being used in the swimming pool. She had slipped, fallen, hit the
temple part of her head on the poolside kerb-stone, and drowned as a
result of being unconscious and lying face down for too long a time
in the water. The medical autopsy revealed Jane had a thinning of the
skull in the region of her temple resulting in a fracture and an
intra cranial haemorrhage.
Mark had been the
only witness to what had actually happened and why. He knows who is
truly responsible for Jane losing her life; for him becoming a
widower at twenty-four years of age; for Jane's parents losing their
only daughter.
Will he ignore
safety rules in the future?
© Elliot Sampford 2013
