Helena was hovering by the dividing wall that led along to the bathroom, with the phone still pressed against her ear. Once she heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS, she hung up and flung the phone over onto the couch, launching herself directly against Clara. For a moment, she kept her face buried against her shirt before looking up. The worry was evident but there wasn't fear.
Albus had been calm when talking to her so she wasn't frightened. She pointed down the hall.
But a second later, Albus was emerging from the bathroom, holding a new towel against his palm and staring down the hall at his daughter and best friend, looking very confused. The towel already had a spot of blood clearly visible but it wasn't bleeding terribly fast. He was holding it with firm pressure from his other hand. "What?" He asked, but Helena was already starting to talk.
"I didn't know the hospital number so I called Auntie."
Albus' face fell and he lifted his eyes to Clara with an apologetic look.