How my caring granddaughter Lily saved a stranger’s life and became their Queen of Hearts

TODAY, in the afterglow of Christmas, let us turn away from the worldly horrors of Gaza and Ukraine and focus instead on a story to warm the cockles of your heart.

It is a story of pure chance, bringing together people from opposite ends of the Earth, entwining them for life.

And it celebrates the goodness that lies within us all.
This story revolves around affairs of the heart.

Not the romantic kind, but of one faulty heart and another that simply stopped and left its owner for dead.

I first heard this story a year ago when my granddaughter Lily Day, now 26, casually mentioned that she had a bit of drama on a UK train ride.

“A bloke in my ­carriage went into cardiac arrest,” she said. “I had to give him CPR.”

Lily knew a bit about cardiopulmonary resuscitation because she is a nurse working at the Evelina children’s hospital in central London.

How she got there is an inspiring story.

Lily grew up in Kununurra, a small town in the East ­Kimberley region of North West Australia.

It’s about as remote as you can get — a three-day drive from West Australia’s capital city of Perth, nestled under the glowing red escarpments featured in Baz Luhrmann’s much-maligned 2008 movie Australia, starring Nicole ­Kidman and Hugh Jackman.

As a teenager, Lily yearned to be an actress like Nicole.

She lived with her aunt in Seaford, East Sussex, for a couple of years, studying dance and ­performing arts at college. But she struggled with the physical demands of dancing and wondered why.

When her heart rate was recorded at a dangerous 244 beats per minute, ­doctors figured something might be awry.

She saw doctors in the UK and Australia before, finally, ­specialists at St Vincent’s ­Hospital, Sydney, diagnosed a mitral valve prolapse, which meant the valve’s flaps were not working properly.

In May 2018, they operated to repair it.

Ribs cracking

During her time in hospital, as she received round-the-clock care, she had a life-changing thought — forget acting, she wanted to be a nurse, like the dedicated young people looking after her.

She left her event management course at university and switched to nursing.

In 2020 she graduated, but soon another affair of the heart intervened.

She fell in love with a young computer whizz from London and, as the global Covid crisis eased, went to live with him in Clapham, South London.

In November 2022, on a trip to see a friend in Devon, she changed trains in Exeter. Entering her carriage, she saw a man, snoring, apparently asleep.

But when it became clear he was having a seizure, and as ­passengers were evacuated, Lily identified herself as a nurse and volunteered to help.

With a local firefighter, who does not wish to be named, they took turns to give him CPR.

“He had no pulse when we started,” says Lily. “But we kept at it for more than ten minutes.

“A couple of times, as I pushed on his chest, I felt his ribs cracking, but when I was taught CPR I was told if you are not cracking ribs, you’re not doing it right.”

By the time the paramedics arrived, Lily and the fireman had restored a faint pulse in the man.

An ambulance took him to the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital. The train ­continued its journey and Lily went on to visit her friend.

My first question was: What happened to the man?
Lily replied: “I don’t know. I did what I needed to do, but I’m not sure

if I want to find out . . .what if he had died? I didn’t want to hear that.”
In fact, retired publisher Eric ­Partridge, 70, from Okehampton, Devon, was clinically dead when Lily and the fireman began their CPR.

“My heart had stopped,” he says. “I remember nothing about it.

“After lunch with friends in Exeter, I realised I could catch an earlier train back to ­Okehampton if I hurried.

“I raced to the station, but I don’t remember getting on the train.

“I don’t remember ­anything until I woke up two days later in hospital.”

Eric spent five weeks in a cardiac ward, slowly repairing his ticker and 12 ribs, broken during CPR.

He says: “I saw the nurses deal with the high pressures and stresses of their jobs with smiles and unfailing attention.

“I wished I could do something to repay them.”

He also wished he could find the pair who saved his life.

It was a wish that became a command to the ten members of sea shanty singing group Mariners Away, of which he had been a member for 18 years. Together, they hatched a plan to put on a concert in Devon to raise funds for the hospital. It went ahead in late October and raised £2,500.

After some detective work by band members, Lily was located and secretly invited to attend the concert.

During a break in performances, she was called to the stage to be interviewed by the band’s leader.

“You’re from Australia?” Yes.

“Been to Devon before?” Yes.

“Recently?”

Eric recalls his surprise.

“I wondered, who is this?” he said. “I didn’t know about this. This hadn’t been rehearsed.”

And then the penny dropped.

Eric leapt from his seat and, on stage before a full house, he gave Lily a great big hug, tight enough, she thought, to break her ribs.

“Nothing I could do or say would be sufficient to show my gratitude,” he says.

“Lily is part of my ­family now. My new best friend for life.”
  

 Happy New Year, everyone.