Chapter 2
Black turned to grey.
Then paler grey.
Noise. People were shouting somewhere in the background, wherever the background might be.
Ow . . .
The sound of crunching metal.
‘Jesus,’ said a voice at unexpectedly close quarters. ‘Hello, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?’
It was harder than she’d expected and took a few goes, like being woken from a deep sleep only an hour after you’d gone to bed. But she managed it and slowly blinked, making sense of what she was seeing. A stone wall, up close, and overhanging tree branches squashed against the windscreen. That was as much as she could take in right now. Nella closed her eyes and opened them again. The fuzziness in her brain began to clear along with her vision and she gave her head a tiny shake. Ouch, not the best idea, that.
‘Don’t try to move,’ ordered the voice, and it sounded both bizarrely out of context yet somehow familiar. Carefully tilting her head from right to left, she saw the man from the farm shop sitting in the passenger seat, watching her.
‘I said don’t move,’ he reminded her, but not in a cross voice.
Everything was still blurry and dreamlike. Nella said, ‘What are you doing in my car? Did I kidnap you?’
‘No, you didn’t kidnap me. You crashed into a wall. Tell me what hurts.’
‘I’m OK. Just a bump.’ She reached up and gingerly touched the right side of her head where it had hit the driver’s window.
‘Do you know who you are?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘And?’ He was still surveying her with concern.
‘Oh, Nella. Nella Hughes.’
‘Good.’ He nodded.
‘Am I right? Is that my name?’
‘I don’t know. I could look in your handbag.’
‘No need. I’m definitely me. Today’s Friday the sixteenth of December. Six times eleven is sixty something or other, give or take a few. Should I try and reverse out of this wall, do you think?’
‘Maybe not right now. The ambulance and police are on their way. How are your arms and legs? Any pain there?’
‘Don’t think so.’
‘How about your chest?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my chest. Although . . .’ She pulled open the front of her sweatshirt, peered down inside and saw that she was wearing her comfortable green stripy bra.
‘Although what?’ Now he was sounding alarmed.
‘My friend Trish says you should always wear fabulous underwear in case you get hit by a bus. And I would have done, if only I’d known this was going to happen.’
‘Oh well, can’t be helped.’
‘Do you think the doctors and nurses will laugh at me when they see my bra?’
He smiled for the first time. ‘I’m sure they’ll cope. What’s six times eleven?’
This time she knew the answer. ‘Sixty-six.’
‘Well done.’
‘Were you following me? From the farm shop?’
‘No. Well, not in a creepy way. I was just heading in the same direction, then saw your car skid off the road and stopped to help. I didn’t know it was you until I opened the passenger door. You were out cold for a minute there. At first I was scared you were . . .’
‘Dead?’
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
The song that had been playing on the radio just before the accident came back to her now. Jon Bon Jovi singing ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’. Not wanting to hear it, she’d switched channels.
‘It’s OK, I’m not,’ she told him as in the distance they heard the sound of an ambulance racing towards them. ‘I’m still alive.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ said the man from the farm shop as the whoop-whoop of a police siren joined in and the rhythmic flash of electric-blue lights filled the car. ‘They’re going to need details of your next of kin.’
‘I don’t have any.’ Nella frowned, trying to remember. ‘Did I already tell you that? They’ll have to make do with my boss instead.’
Some days don’t end up working out the way you expect them to.
Nick Callaghan definitely hadn’t planned on spending an entire afternoon in the A as far as she was concerned, she was ready to go. ‘I’m fine,’ she protested. ‘There’s no need to keep me in.’
‘Just to be on the safe side,’ the doctor told her.
‘It was only a bump on the head!’
‘Except it was a bit more than that.’ He looked at Nick for confirmation. ‘When you got there, she was unconscious.’
Nick nodded. ‘That’s true.’
‘But I’m better now,’ Nella pleaded.
‘It’s standard procedure. We need to keep an eye on you.’
She sighed. ‘I hate hospitals.’
The doctor smiled. ‘Sometimes I’m not wild about them myself. If everything’s looking good tomorrow morning, you’ll be free to leave. Deal?’
‘Deal,’ Nella agreed. ‘And I’m sorry about my bra.’
‘No problem.’ Entertained, the doctor turned to Nick. ‘As soon as she’s been given the all-clear, you’ll be able to collect her and take her home.’
‘I don’t even know who he is,’ said Nella. ‘Or where he lives.’
The doctor glanced at Nick, clearly concerned that she could be having problems with her memory after all.
‘Anyway, no need. I can get a taxi to the train station. But could you do me a huge favour?’ She looked at Nick, then pointed to the bunch of orange roses resting on top of the small suitcase she’d brought with her in the ambulance. ‘If you could take the flowers to my grandpa’s grave and just tell him why I couldn’t make it, that’d be great. His name’s Vernon Hughes and he’s over to the left of the churchyard, not far from a big statue with gold angels on the top and—’
‘Why don’t I come and pick you up from here tomorrow?’ said Nick. ‘Then you can take the flowers yourself.’
The nurses on the ward were busy but cheerful, the woman in the next bed had passed her a generous handful of Quality Streets to go with breakfast, and the bruise on Nella’s right temple was such an impressive shade of purple that it felt only right to match it with her eyeshadow.
Best of all, the doctor on his ward round had checked her over and been satisfied that she was well enough to be discharged.
Already dressed and sitting cross-legged on the bed, ready to go, Nella took out her phone and called the number Nick Callaghan had given her yesterday. If that was even his real name. It’d be funny if the number was some random one he’d just plucked out of the air.
But no, he picked up on the second ring.
‘If you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine,’ she began. ‘I can get a cab and—’
‘I haven’t changed my mind. Have they given you the all-clear?’
‘Yep, together with a Get Out of Jail Free card. Whenever suits you, if you’re sure. I’m on ward 4B.’
‘On my way.’ He sounded as if he were smiling. ‘Prepare to be sprung.’
When he walked onto the ward thirty minutes later, Nella wasn’t the only one who noticed.
‘He’s a bit of all right,’ said Pam, the Quality Street queen. ‘If I was fifty years younger, I’d give him a go.’
The young nurse who was changing her dressing said, ‘Pam, behave yourself,’ then glanced up and went pink when she saw Nick.
‘That’s the trouble,’ Pam grumbled. ‘I’ve been having to behave myself since I was twenty-five. Bloomin’ sick of not having any fun.’ She winked at Nella. ‘Make sure you make the most of this one, love.’
Nick grinned as he reached for Nella’s overnight case. ‘Ready?’
‘More than. It’s OK,’ she added when he offered her his forearm. ‘I’m not an invalid, I’m fine.’
It had begun to snow. Fat feathery flakes tumbled slowly out of a steel-grey sky as they drove towards Starbourne. After some time, Nick slowed at a bend in the road and said, ‘This is where it happened.’
Her car had been removed, of course, although technically it wasn’t hers, it belonged to Tommy. But the police had arranged for it to be taken away to a nearby garage for repair, unless the insurance assessors decided it was a write-off. She could see broken tree branches, and the dry-stone wall showed some impact marks but was still standing at least.
‘I was lucky.’ Nella shivered, re-enacting the skid in her mind and touching the swollen bruise on her temple. ‘It could have been a lot worse.’
‘Don’t think about it.’ Nick carried on past the site of the accident.
‘But it’s actually good to think about it,’ she pointed out. ‘I could have died. I could be dead now. That’s the thing, isn’t it? Every morning, most people wake up and take it for granted that it’s going to be just another normal day. It doesn’t occur to them that anything might happen and their lives could be about to change completely. Or come to an end.’
‘Cheerful,’ said Nick.
‘People are always saying you should live each day as if it’s your last, but most of them don’t do it.’
‘Is that the idea now? To live each day as if it’s your last?’
Nella laughed. ‘No, because that’d be carnage. Imagine if everyone did that. We’d all spend money we didn’t have and end up in massive debt. You need to be sensible and plan for the future. And hope you don’t die before you get there.’
The corner of his mouth turned up. ‘Are you sensible?’
‘I am.’
‘Super-efficient?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘And let me guess. Seriously independent.’
They’d only met yesterday, but he was doing well. Nella saw the road sign for Starbourne looming out of the snow ahead of them. ‘It’s the only way to be.’ Out of curiosity, she said, ‘What makes you say that?’
He shrugged. ‘I just kind of feel as if I know you.’
You don’t .
As they reached the village minutes later, she held up her phone and videoed the unfolding scene. It was one of those picturesque places that tourists from overseas loved to tick off their lists when they came to visit the Cotswolds, larger than some villages and full of character. The wide main street comprised a higgledy-piggledy assortment of attractive terraced and detached cottages and larger houses with enviable gardens interspersed with the occasional shop, a few businesses and a couple of pubs. And because it was December, there were Christmas decorations in almost every window as well as lights strung up outside, and a fabulous Christmas tree standing in the central triangle of grass beside the war memorial.
With the snow falling and starting to settle on the roofs and pavements, it was all looking ridiculously Instagrammable.
Nella carried on recording as they drove along. She recognised the buildings, of course, but there had also been changes since her last visit: one or two unfamiliar shops, whilst others had gone, different names above other businesses, and front doors painted bright new colours.
It didn’t quite feel like home – she hadn’t lived here long enough for that – but seeing her grandfather’s cottage would bring it all back.
Not yet, though. She would visit him at the churchyard first, and this was where Nick was taking her now. He passed the bus shelter, then turned into the parking area in front of the church.
He waited in the car while she carried the orange roses down the path to the left of the church. She passed the over-the-top memorial with the gold angels, belonging to Eunice Honeywell, who’d lived to the excellent age of one hundred and five and whose epitaph bore the admirable words: Never married, never wanted to.
Nella reached her grandfather’s grave, his own stone of grey marble as modest and unflashy as Vernon himself, because he’d chosen and paid for it in full within weeks of learning that his illness was terminal. She knew he’d done this to spare her having to make any unnecessary decisions during her time of grief, and because he’d loved her as much as she’d loved him.
She filled up the metal vase from the standpipe, arranged the roses to the best of her ability, even though they wouldn’t last long in this weather, and cleared the weeds and frozen leaves away from the grave.
‘Hi, Grandpa, it’s me. I had a bit of a fight to get your favourite colour roses, but guess what? I won. And then my car skidded into a wall because of some other idiot driver, but I’m fine. Still working for Tommy up in Manchester. And he’s still a nightmare, of course, up to his usual tricks, but I’m doing my best to keep him on the straight and narrow.’ She paused, then said, ‘It’s snowing here today. Remember that snowman we built in the back garden just after I moved in? I told you I was too old for snowmen and you said fine, I could stay inside while you built one instead.’ She smiled at the memory, because after three minutes of watching from the tiny living room window of Tin Cottage as her grandfather began rolling the snow to make the snowman’s body, she hadn’t been able to resist running out to join him. It was the day she’d discovered that when it came to snowmen and snowball fights, there was no such thing as too old.
‘Anyway, I have to catch the train back later, but I’m going to pay a visit to the cottage before I leave. See how it’s looking, check out your vegetable garden, see if they’re keeping it up to your standards.’ She grinned and patted the headstone. ‘Mind you, they’ll have their work cut out, won’t they?’
When she returned to the car, she said, ‘Sorry. I tried not to be too long.’
Nick shook his head. ‘No problem. I like how you chatted to your grandfather.’
‘You had the grave bugged?’
He smiled. ‘I saw your lips moving. And you gesture with your hands when you talk. Look, it’s midday. If you fancy some lunch, the food at the Angel’s good.’
He’d already volunteered to drive her to the train station. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘I know. But I’d like to. And I’m kind of hungry.’
Nella had had lukewarm porridge and Quality Streets for breakfast. ‘I’m hungry too. If you’re sure, that’d be great. But could I ask another favour? Before lunch, could we go and take a look at my old home?’
‘Absolutely.’ Nick switched on the ignition and reversed out of the parking space. ‘Let’s go. Where is it?’
‘Tin Lane. It’s the cottage halfway along, past the row of conker trees on the left.’ Rubbing her hands together briskly to warm up, Nella said, ‘If anyone’s at home, I’m going to ask if they’ll let me inside for a quick look around, although I know some people might not be too keen, especially if the place is untidy or . . . What?’ She stopped talking, because Nick was giving her an odd look. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Right. I’m sorry.’ He genuinely sounded as if he was. ‘You won’t be able to see it.’
‘Why not?’ Had it been snapped up by second-homers who’d built a ten-foot fence around the property and installed guard dogs?
‘Tin Cottage isn’t there any more,’ said Nick.