‘I was only dozing.’
‘I’ve made you a cup of hot sweet tea. I will never take electricity or an electric kettle for granted again.’
‘Thank you.’ I wrap my hands around the hot mug.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘A million times better and very grateful for a soft bed. Thanks for being so kind.’
‘Thank you for being so brave. You make it easy. Talking of which, you need your hair drying and then sleep.’
A few seconds later, having searched through a couple of drawers, he’s plugging in a hairdryer and pulling the towel from my head. I scoot forward so that he can reach the back of my head and let the hot air waft over my neck and shoulders as he rough dries it, his fingers delving in and stroking my scalp.
When I wince at one point, he slows and re-examines my head more gently. ‘That’s quite a lump,’ he says, lines creasing his forehead. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’
I squint. I’d know if I had concussion surely, but I can tell he’s worried that it’s a possibility.
‘Ninety-five.’ My deadpan voice makes him smile and I feel happy that I’ve eased his concern.
‘Smartarse. We need to get you to hospital.’
‘Tom. I’m just a bit bumped and bruised, that’s all. I don’t need a doctor.’ Although my shoulder is in agony, I think I’m managing to hide it quite well.
‘You do need a doctor. That cut on your leg needs looking at and what if you have concussion?’
‘What if I don’t?’
‘Do you remember what happened?’
‘Yes. I tripped over a bloody rock and then slipped and went down the hill. I got wedged at the bottom and you had to rescue me. Again. Have I told you how much I hate being rescued?
‘No, but I think I could surmise that.’ He smiles at me. ‘You’re a lot more prickly than I’d given you credit for.’
I purse my mouth because he’s seen more than I want him to. He has no idea how hard I work to convince everyone at work that I’m Miss Sunshine all the time.
‘And I still think you need checking over. I could phone an ambulance. There’s a landline in the kitchen.’
‘That will take hours. I’m not an emergency. I walked here. Why don’t we see how I feel in the morning? Besides, if we go to a hospital, we stand a greater chance of being caught. We’re doing well.’
He sighs. ‘I still think you need medical attention. My cousin’s a doctor, I’m going to give her a call. Ask her advice.’
I want to be cross with him. I hate making any sort of fuss but this gentle insistence is kind of sweet.
‘And after I’ve done that, I’ll sort out some food. There’s not much here. I found a sliced loaf in the freezer so at least we can have dry toast, and there’s a bag of ice and one of frozen peas.’
‘Would you mind bringing my rucksack?’ I ask, adding an apologetic smile because the last thing I want is him delving in there.
‘Sure.’
When he brings it in, it’s still sopping wet, so I scramble out of bed, conscious that his T-shirt only just skims my bum. My shoulder is still killing me and I have to use my left hand. First thing I retrieve is a pair of knickers and toss them onto the bed.
‘Here.’ I do an awkward one-handed rummage towards the bottom of the rucksack and like a magician, pull out six sachets of instant pasta and a pack of digestive biscuits. ‘All you need to do is put them in a mug and add boiling water.’
‘Should I ask?’ He quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but I’m not saying anything.
‘No. And here. I pinched these from breakfast.’ I hand him a portion pack of Marmite, five of Nutella and two mini jars of strawberry jam.
He shakes his head and looks at the bounty. ‘I take it you like Nutella. I’m not sure whether to be impressed or worried.’
I shrug as I always do – except it really hurts on one side ‘Just consider it useful.’
‘What else have you got in there?’
‘Strictly need to know,’ I say with an attempt at a flippant smile, which I hope hides the quick flare of fear.
‘I’ll say this, you’re a useful woman to know in an emergency.’ He clutches everything against his stomach and starts to retreat towards the door.
‘And you’re a useful man.’
His face breaks into a full smile. ‘Maybe we make a good team after all.’ He turns and walks out of the door.
‘Maybe,’ I call after him, I even manage a half-hearted smile to myself because I never thought we’d get to this point, even if the circumstances are extenuating. Tom has grown on me more than I thought possible and even though I have those fluttery feelings for him, I need to remember what it was like this on that infamous weekend – the way he shut down. I can’t trust that he won’t do it again.
Chapter Seventeen TOM
‘Hello?’ The voice holds that suspicious waver, which I guess is normal these days when you answer the phone to an unknown number. Ten times out of ten, they’re sales or scam calls.
‘Annette, it’s me, Tom.’ Thank goodness her parents have had the same landline number for twenty years and that it’s an easy one to remember. Her mum gave me her mobile number without the inquisition my mum would have given.
