Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Christmas Eve arrives, and with it some serious snow.
It started the afternoon before, coming down in thick flurries that lasted through the night, blanketing the whole village in white.
It was worn down and trodden in as the day went on, and now it is actually pretty slippery out here.
Even Cara has swapped her heels for flat calf-high boots, joining me for a late afternoon coffee in Maggie’s café.
‘I’m shut for the festivities now,’ she tells me, tucking into a plate of lemon meringue pie, ‘ready for the New Year’s Eve rush…’
I wonder what a ‘rush’ looks like in Cara’s shop. More than two people maybe? I know she has repeat customers who come to her for everything from wedding dresses to cocktail gowns, but they seem to come by appointment so the whole place always feels very serene.
‘I suppose it’s the opposite for you,’ she continues. ‘It’ll be crazy busy in the pub tonight, won’t it? Always a cracking night, Christmas Eve at the St Tilda Inn. I swear to God it was after one of your dad’s lock-ins that I ended up pregnant with our Joseph…’
I laugh. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad’s lock-ins were responsible for all kinds of things. Pregnancies, arguments, global warming.
‘Yep, I’m half dreading it, half looking forward to it,’ I tell her. ‘There’s no food on, which is a relief – so Sean can help out behind the bar at least. Will you be there? Is, uh, everyone coming?’
She narrows her eyes very slightly at me. ‘And by everybody, would you be meaning our Liam?’
‘No! Why would I mean that?’
She winks at me over her coffee mug, and I curse the blush I can feel on my cheeks. ‘Just a wild guess. I always wondered if there might be something going on with you two…’
‘Well, there isn’t. We’re just friends,’ I say firmly. We are, I tell myself. There is nothing between us apart from friendship, and never will be.
We have seen each other in passing since our walk on the beach, and it has been relaxed and light-hearted between us.
At least on the surface, in my case. I still feel more of a tug towards him than I want to, still notice more about him than I should.
I wish it would go away, because it is making me uncomfortable.
I am too old for crushes, especially on someone with whom I share so much history.
Someone who has made it clear that any more ‘moments’ are not on the cards.
I have spoken to Tyler a few times, but haven’t discussed anything serious with him.
I have decided that I do need to end it with him, but it seems like an especially dick move to do it over the phone, thousands of miles away and just before Christmas.
The time difference, plus the fact that we’re both busy with work, has allowed me to keep our chats relatively short, and I hope that he hasn’t noticed anything different.
I am dreading hurting him, I really am, but I’ll only hurt him more if I let this drag on any longer.
Life is too short to waste on people who don’t love you to the moon and back – that’s what he deserves, and what I hope he will find.
Back here, Dad seems to be getting stronger with each day, and Liam is still eager for the sale of the inn to go through.
He’s said that while the paperwork and legalities are sorted, he’s happy to start paying for extra staff.
Extra staff will mean less need for extra daughters, so I will probably be able to leave for New York before too long – which is good, as my boss has very gently asked a few times what my plans are.
I sigh as I think about going back, and Cara looks at me pointedly.
I realise she thinks I am sighing about Liam and I only being friends, and maybe part of me is – but it is bigger than that.
My whole life feels like a giant question mark right now.
As I open my mouth to speak to her, an almighty commotion goes up at the front of the café.
Even over the Christmas music and the chatter of the customers, we hear a bang, a crashing noise, and a loud yell.
I jump to my feet, and see Maggie lying on the floor, surrounded by smashed plates and a now empty serving tray. Her foot is twisted in an odd direction, and she is white as a sheet.
‘Maggie! Are you okay?’ I ask, dashing over and crouching down next to her. Tears are shining in her eyes, but she nods and grabs my hand.
‘I’m fine. Slipped on a puddle from all this snow! Help me up now, and I’ll walk it off…’
Cara and I try to haul her up, but as soon as she puts any pressure on her ankle, she lets out an agonised wail and falls back down. Hmmm. That doesn’t look good.
We share a worried glance, unsure what to do next.
The café is busy, but sadly nobody rushes forward and offers their expertise.
Luckily Lucy is more on the ball than the rest of us, and she dashes off, telling us to stay where we are.
I hear Maggie muttering something along the lines of ‘Well, I’m not bloody going anywhere, am I? ’
Lucy is back in less than a minute, accompanied by a smartly dressed middle-aged woman holding a big white cake box.
‘This is Dr Khan,’ she says to me. ‘She was picking up an order at the bakery, so I asked her to come take a look…’
The doctor joins us at ground level, immediately and with some authority dismissing all of Maggie’s objections and her insistence that she’s fine. She carefully examines the ankle, noticing her patient’s attempts not to cry out.
‘You’re not fine,’ says the doctor firmly. ‘That looks like a fracture to me, and a possible dislocation. You will not be attempting to walk that off, Maggie, and you need to go to hospital. I’ll call in now and see if we can get an ambulance. You’ll need some pain relief.’
Maggie looks devastated, but then a thought seems to occur to her. ‘Will there be gas and air? I loved gas and air when I had the kids…’
‘Hmmm, your drug-seeking behaviour has been noted,’ the doctor replies, smiling to show she’s joking. ‘And yes – they’ll give you all the good stuff, don’t worry.’
She disappears off to talk on her phone, and Maggie tries to persuade everybody else to go back to their cakes and coffees and chats. Obviously, nobody does – everyone loves Maggie and seeing her in pain like this is terrible.
Cara sits down flat on her backside next to her, stretching out her long legs. ‘Pass us my coffee now, would you, Lucy?’
I join her on the ground, and ask for mine too.
Within minutes, every customer who is physically capable is also sitting on the floor – sipping their drinks, eating their cake, and continuing with their conversations, but all on the same level as Maggie.
Nobody has any intentions of leaving her alone, and Lucy does the rounds with refills and orders.
She makes sure the music stays on in the background, and when new customers arrive, she explains what’s happened and they invariably decide that they’d love to take their tea sitting on the pale wood floorboards of the café.
Maggie shakes her head, smiling despite her obvious pain, and mutters: ‘Stark raving mad, the lot of you…’
This is exactly the scene that greets the paramedics when they arrive half an hour later.
They look around in confusion, taking in the sight of a café full of people ignoring perfectly good chairs and sitting on their bums instead.
I’m guessing they’ve seen stranger, though, because they immediately get on with their jobs.
Maggie is assessed, blood pressure taken, and various questions asked. They encase her ankle in a kind of inflatable case that protects it as they move her, raising her up on a hydraulic chair and transferring her to a stretcher.
She is still alarmingly pale, and grabs hold of my hand before she is wheeled out of the place.
‘Go and tell Mike, will you, love? Tell him not to worry, it’s nothing serious. I’m sure it’s just a sprain.’
The paramedic shakes his head behind her, and I’m guessing the X-rays will show otherwise. Toes really shouldn’t point away from the feet at quite that angle.
‘I will, Maggie. Don’t worry about anything. Just take it easy, okay?’
She frowns, and I can see a million and one worries are going through her mind. ‘Lucy knows how to close up here, doesn’t she?’ I say.
‘She does, but what about tomorrow? What about the buffet? Half the village is coming…’
I squeeze her hand reassuringly. ‘Everyone will understand if it doesn’t happen, Maggie. Or if you like, um, I can do it? You said a lot was already done…’
Her eyes meet mine, and she looks so grateful – like I’ve just offered to donate a kidney, not bake a few cakes.
‘Really, Ellie? Would you mind? It’d mean the world to me…’
‘Of course. It’s not a problem. I’ve been sneakily angling for it for days, didn’t you notice?’
She pulls a face at me, and manages to find a small smile. ‘Did you put that puddle there as well, you minx?’
I wink at her. ‘I cannot confirm nor deny. Now, get yourself off to the ambulance. That gas and air won’t inhale itself.’
She is finally wheeled away, to the sound of cheers and applause from a café full of her customers. She gives us a tired-but-regal wave, and disappears into the snow.