Just for the Holidays: Your perfect summer read!. Sue Moorcroft
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Alister was splinted and in the ambulance the rangers piled the rented bikes in their truck and Théo escorted Leah and the kids back to The Pig to guide her to l’Hôpital Civil in Strasbourg.
‘But you are cold, I think.’ He frowned at Leah and Natasha’s wet clothes.
‘I can put up with it.’ But Leah cast a worried glance at her niece.
‘Here, Natasha.’ Curtis gallantly pulled off his black T-shirt decorated with snarling wolves then turned to gaze out of the window while Natasha, thanking him shyly, pulled off her wet top and changed into his dry one, long enough on her to pass for a dress.
Leah, not wanting to pause to accept similar offers from Jordan or Théo, pulled swiftly away. Or what passed for swift, in The Pig.
Earning her undying gratitude, Théo located a parking place and the entrance to the correct hospital department – Leah wouldn’t even have known that A&E was called Urgences – bought them drinks from the vending machine, found them an English-speaking nurse and indicated the wet clothing and what Leah suddenly realised was a giant, sticky, gritty graze on her arm. Waving away thanks, he left to wait outside to be picked up in his cycling buddy’s car.
The nurse provided white scrubs for Leah and Natasha and Curtis took back his T-shirt. While the nurse bustled off on some other errand, Leah tried to ring Michele but could only leave a message.
Natasha, hoiking at her waistband to stop her hems trailing, declared, ‘I look like I’m in Casualty on TV!’
‘Wrong colour, gonk,’ began Jordan. Then he caught Leah’s baleful glare and subsided.
Grateful just for dry clothes, whatever they looked like, Leah dropped into a chair in the glass-walled waiting area and tried to assess their situation. ‘OK. We’re all together and in the same place as Alister. The lovely nurse speaks English, for which I’m pathetically grateful. We have our phones back. We’ll survive. Curtis, text your dad and tell him where you are and not to worry. Now, please.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Curtis grumbled, fishing out his phone.
Leah’s arm throbbed like a bastard but she could cope if she didn’t think about it too much. Not thinking about it wasn’t easy and it seemed a long time before the English-speaking nurse reappeared. ‘Come,’ she said, gently taking Leah’s arm and inspecting it. ‘I will check it for you.’
Alarmed at the idea of leaving the teenagers Leah snatched back her limb – ouch! – and flexed it. ‘It’s not broken, just bruised.’
But the nurse, demonstrating her profession’s magical people-management qualities, somehow agreed, disagreed and got her own way. ‘I think so, too. But we will clean and dress it.’
After at least seven assurances from each child that they’d be fine sitting on their bums and drinking fizzy drinks, that they wouldn’t leave, particularly with strangers, or be a nuisance to others, particularly with pointless bickering, Leah allowed herself to be ushered towards a cubicle, where she put up with the nurse persuading chips of gravel from her flesh and covering the fiery graze with an antiseptic dressing.
When Leah finally returned to the waiting area it was to find a charming French doctor in a white coat laughing and chatting with the kids who, bizarrely, had stacked their empty drink bottles tidily on a seat, totally ignoring the nearby bin.
The doctor rose. ‘Miss Beaumont? May I trouble you to follow me, please?’
They were borne off to an office, Leah managing to snatch up the rubbish and transfer it to the correct receptacle in passing, to be informed that Alister had smashed his ankle in some complex manner that also included significant damage to tendons and ligaments. He would shortly be transferred to the city’s other hospital, Hautepierre, for an operation, and could expect to be there for about seven days.
An entire week.
As sentence was passed Leah knew how Natasha must have felt as her bike tried to drag her under the water. But her burden came in the form of the kids gazing at her in the evident expectation that she’d know what to do next.
So, chips down, Leah gave it her best shot. ‘OK, I’ll get the kids home shortly but can I see my brother-in-law first? He’ll need to tell me what he wants from his room so I can take it to the other hospital tomorrow.’
‘Of course, of course,’ the doctor beamed. ‘Families. We must look after each other, hein?’
Stifling an urge to reply, ‘Must we?’, Leah just smiled.
When Curtis had texted that he was at a hospital owing to Jordan’s dad having made an unscheduled switch from bike to ambulance, Ronan had asked whether Leah needed help. Though Curtis had relayed a message that she could manage, thanks, ever since Curtis had arrived home with details of the day Ronan had been battling an urge to rush next door.
The sight of Leah sprinting down the garden and into the little annexe, wearing white hospital scrubs and a hunted expression, had brought him up short. Nothing in her stricken appearance had given him the idea that she needed company, but to give himself an excuse to hover in the vicinity he set about taming the monster rambling rose that threatened the fence with its weight. Lopping its thorny arms, he chopped up the amputations to cram into the bin. As if in revenge, the fragile white blooms sent out their fragrance onto the early-evening air, enticing bugs to dive-bomb him.
He was jolted from batting away his tormentors by a drawn-out, muffled but definitely distressed ‘Aaaaaaaa-rrrrrrggh!’ emitting from the annexe.
He tossed down his secateurs, grabbed the top of the fence and scissored over, swearing as his shoulder wrenched with a burst of fire, but hitting the ground running. Next instant he was hammering at the annexe door.
‘Leah?’ He glared at the green-painted wood that was keeping him out. ‘Are you OK?’
Just as he was about to ignore the niceties and rattle the handle the door jerked open and Leah, still in hospital scrubs like a crumpled paper bag, gazed back at him, eyes wild and golden brown hair unravelling.
‘What’s up?’ His eyes flew to a business-like dressing that graced the angle of her arm. ‘You’re hurt – is that why you screamed?’
Stepping back to let him into the kitchenette, Leah clenched shut her eyes for a long, slow breath. When her eyelids flipped open again her usual sane self was staring back at him. She answered politely. ‘I’m OK, thank you.’
He rubbed his shoulder resentfully, feeling foolish at his headlong dash. ‘Why scream, then? You frightened me to death.’
‘Sorry.’
Seeing only unhappiness in her face he let his voice soften. ‘It’s bad news about Alister.’
Her shoulders sagged. ‘He needs an operation but they’re not sure when. They have to transfer him to another hospital. I’m about to move into the main house while he’s gone because I can’t leave Natasha and Jordan there alone.’
Comprehension began to dawn. And with it, sympathy. ‘So you’re left being Deputy Dad as well as Deputy Mum? Now I understand the scream.’
Her laugh strangled. ‘OK, I admit to a tiny letting-off-steam scream. I didn’t mean to be overheard. It’s just that I like my space and I can’t have it because I have to do a load of parenting that, despite loving the kids to bits, I don’t want to do. I’m not parent material. I let Natasha half-drown today.’ Then she squared her shoulders, though so much tension radiated from her he could almost hear her buzzing. ‘But there’s no one else. I’ll move into Michele’s room and look after the kids until Alister comes out of hospital. Then I might have to look after him, too, until I can get us all back to England, which, as we have two vehicles here, will be a challenge because Michele’s freaked out about driving on the right and refuses to do it.’
Despite the wobble in her voice, he found himself admiring her, not just for stepping up to the plate but for so disarmingly