Chapter 20
It was early for a knock on the door, but thankfully Fiona was up, even if she wasn’t dressed yet. She debated whether to answer but decided she’d better. Anyway, she was curious as to who might want her at this time on a Thursday morning, and if it was someone canvassing for the local elections, she fully intended to send them away with a flea in their ear.
Oh dear, have I forgotten to do something, or should I be at the cafe this morning and it’s slipped my mind , Fiona wondered when she saw Molly standing on her step.
Then she realised that Molly had Patch with her, and her heart lurched . Oh, God, please no, not Bill. Please don’t tell me something has happened to him. She didn’t think she could stand losing anyone else she loved.
With her hand clutching her dressing gown, Fiona whispered, ‘Is it Bill?’
‘Yes, but it’s not serious. Well, it is , but it’s not life-threatening. He’s had a fall.’
The relief made her legs weak, and she sagged against the doorframe. He was still alive, that was all that mattered. Anything else she could cope with.
It took an effort but she pulled herself together and asked, ‘Has he broken his hip?’
‘His collarbone. A displaced fracture, apparently. They’re operating this morning. Can you look after Patch today? Jack and I have got to go to work, you see.’
‘Come in, come in.’ Fiona ushered Molly and Patch inside and closed the door. ‘Of course, I can. He’s got a bowl here, and I always keep a couple of tins of the food he likes on hand. He’ll be perfectly fine. How did it happen?’
‘Bill was in the park last night, quite late, taking the dog for a walk, when he heard someone breaking the cafe’s windows. He tried to chase after them, but fell. Jack went with him to the hospital and stayed until he was admitted.’
Fiona sank into a chair. She could feel the colour draining from her face, and her hands began to shake. She honestly didn’t know where to begin to unpick this, but her overriding thought was that Bill could have fared far worse if he had managed to catch the perpetrator. The silly, silly man.
Unable to help herself, she burst into tears.
Molly said, ‘I thought you might be upset, which was why I didn’t phone you with the news. I wanted to tell you in person.’
‘He could have been killed,’ she sobbed. ‘You hear about things like that happening all the time. They could have had a weapon.’
Molly put an arm around her. ‘He’ll be all right, you’ll see. He’ll be as good as new in no time.’
Fiona wasn’t so sure. At their age broken bones took longer to heal, and sometimes the shock of something like this never went away. Yes, he would mend, but it would take a while, and the after-effects could linger for some considerable time.
However, crying wouldn’t do him any good, she thought, dabbing at her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her dressing gown. What Bill needed was help, not tears. And right now, the best thing she could do was take care of Patch: it would be one less thing for him to worry about. And she knew he would worry – Patch meant everything to him, and Bill would put the dog’s wellbeing before his own recovery.
After she had said goodbye to Molly, Fiona hastily got dressed and hurried out of the door, Patch at her heels. The poor little chap seemed rather bewildered. She guessed he must be wondering where his master was, and she could tell he was beginning to fret.
Patch wasn’t the only one. Every time Fiona thought about Bill, her heart raced and she felt sick with worry. Having an operation wasn’t to be taken lightly. Glancing at her watch, she wondered what time it was scheduled for. No doubt they would keep him in tonight, and possibly tomorrow, but a lot depended on how the operation went and whether the doctor was pleased with his recovery.
Could she visit him this evening? Should she? She wanted to, but was it wise?
A van was parked outside the cafe, and Fiona recognised it as belonging to the builder.
‘Hi, Mrs Tedstone. It’s not the best, is it?’ Gavin said, on seeing her.
Fiona gazed at the shattered windowpane. The other had already been boarded up, and he was busy knocking the remaining jagged shards out.
She shook her head sadly and wished she knew who was responsible for the destruction and why they had done it. Was that how they got their kicks, by damaging things?
Fiona tied Patch up outside, well away from any risk of broken glass, filled a bowl with fresh water and laid out a blanket for him to lie on.
‘The glazier has been to measure up,’ Gavin informed her, ‘but he’s not able to fit the glass until tomorrow.’
‘Can I go inside and clean up?’ She was itching to put everything to rights again – or as much as she could.
‘Absolutely, just let me…’ He used the handle of a screwdriver to tap out the last shard. ‘There, all yours.’
‘Can I make you a cuppa?’
‘That would be lovely, thanks. Milk and one sugar. After I’ve had that, I’m going to finish boarding this one up, then fit shutters to the outside. They won’t be able to smash the windows a second time.’
She bloody hoped not!
Fiona was reaching into the cupboard for a dustpan and brush when she heard Glenys’s voice, and she rolled her eyes. She could do without seeing her today.
‘What’s gone on here, then?’ Glenys was asking the builder.
‘Somebody smashed the window last night,’ Gavin replied.
‘That’s a shame. It won’t be able to open on Saturday now.’
‘Yes, it will,’ Fiona said, going outside. ‘The glazier will be here tomorrow.’
‘That’s cutting it fine.’ Glenys peered over Fiona’s shoulder. ‘I take it Bill’s helping?’
‘No, he’s—’ Fiona took a breath. ‘He’s in hospital.’
‘ What? ’ Glenys pressed a hand to her chest. ‘What happened? Is it serious?’
‘He’s broken his collarbone. He had a fall last night in the park, chasing after whoever did this.’ Fiona gestured to the nearest window.
Glenys looked stricken. ‘Oh, dear. That’s dreadful.’
‘He’s having it operated on this morning.’
‘I take it he didn’t catch them?’
‘No, thank God!’
‘Did he see who it was?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I didn’t think to ask – I was more concerned about Bill and his poor shoulder.’
Glenys’s eyes filled with tears and immediately Fiona felt awful for her snarky thoughts. The women clearly cared more for him than Fiona had given her credit.
Glenys fluttered a hand in front of her face. ‘Look at me, getting all upset. What must you be thinking?’ There was more hand-fluttering, as she added, ‘I’m sure he’ll be all right. A fractured clavicle isn’t pleasant and he’ll need a fair bit of help, but there shouldn’t be any permanent damage.’ Her gaze sharpened. ‘Oh, dear, he’ll not be able to volunteer in your little cafe for a while though, will he?’
The same thing had crossed Fina’s mind, but she honestly didn’t care. Bill’s return to full fitness was more important.
Glenys said, ‘How will you manage now?’
‘Didn’t you say you were going to volunteer?’
‘Did I? Well, I would, of course I would, if I had the time. Maybe when Mrs. Pemberton is back on her feet…?’ Glenys collected herself. ‘I can’t stand here chinwagging all day. I’d better get going. Toodle-oo.’
Fiona watched her go, shaking her head slowly. She knew full well why Glenys wasn’t up for volunteering anymore – because Bill wouldn’t be able to. Typical!
She went back inside and began to sweep up. There was glass everywhere and it amazed her how far some of the pieces had travelled, but she eventually managed to gather up every last bit, along with a couple of nails, putty from around the frames, and what looked like the rubber stopper from the end of a walking stick.
By the time she had safely disposed of the broken glass, Gavin had boarded up the other window, and was now working on the shutters.
There was nothing more she could do for now, so after offering Gavin another cup of tea she decided to go home. A spot of brunch wouldn’t go amiss, then she would have an easy afternoon before visiting Bill later. No matter what had taken place on her doorstep the other night, she was still his friend whether he wanted her to be or not. As soon as Molly came home from work, Fiona would drop Patch off at the cottage and be on her way.
She simply had to see for herself that he was all right. And besides, if he was up to it, she wanted to share her thoughts on who might be responsible for vandalising the cafe.
***
Tired, grumpy, hungry, and very sore were perfect words to describe how Bill was feeling this afternoon. He’d been lucky in that he had been second on the surgeon’s list, so he’d had his operation early on. Then he had been taken back to the ward, had gone back to sleep for a few hours (despite being continually woken by one nurse or another) and was now firmly awake because his shoulder ached like the devil. So when one of the nurses offered him pain relief, he almost bit her hand off.
Feeling a bit more comfortable now, he began to think about his stomach. It was twenty-four hours since he’d eaten, and he was starving. A cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss, either.
All of this added to his grumpiness, but what was really driving it was his worry about Patch. Before Jack had left after dropping off an overnight bag, he had assured Bill that Patch would be well taken care of and wouldn’t be left on his own. But that didn’t stop Bill worrying.
Who was looking after his dog right now? Had Molly or Jack taken the day off?
Oh, dear, he was such a nuisance. They must be cursing him from here to next week. He hated bothering anyone and until the unfortunate incident last night he hadn’t had to. Hopefully he would be allowed to go home tomorrow, though how he was going to manage with one arm, he didn’t know. Trust it to be his right one. If it had been his left, he would stand a better chance of coping.
The way he felt right now, he wouldn’t trust himself to fill a kettle, let alone cook a meal. And who was going to walk Patch if he couldn’t? There was no way he was going to impose on Molly or Jack any more than he had already.
He continued to brood as he tackled his meal of shepherd’s pie and salad ( salad, I ask you? Surely it should have been accompanied by carrots or peas? ), with a piece of fruit and a weird pot of bright orange jelly for afters. And as he ate, he became more morose with every mouthful. Cutting up his food was impossible, and as for holding a spoon in his left hand whilst trying to keep the pot of jelly still and not have it wander all over the table… God help him. He would bloody starve to death at this rate.
His eyes widened and he dropped his spoon with a clatter as a thought occurred to him. How was he going to open the tins of dog food?
He had just decided that he would have to change to pouches and hope they would be easier to get into, when he realised he had a visitor.
Bugger – it was Glenys. What was she doing here?
‘Aw, my poor love!’ she cried, scurrying to his bedside and nearly knocking over one of the auxiliary nurses in her haste. ‘How are you feeling?’ She picked up the chart at the bottom of his bed and began reading his notes.
‘That’s private,’ he told her crossly.
‘Don’t mind me, I’m a nurse, remember?’
‘I thought you were retired?’
‘I am. Let’s see… BP slightly raised, temp normal, pulse OK.’ She looked up. ‘Have you been to the toilet yet?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Don’t be shy, we all use the loo. And the nursing staff will want to know. They won’t let you go home until you’ve had a—’
‘I’ll tell them when they ask,’ Bill interrupted testily.
Glenys gave him an arch look, but at least she returned the chart to its holder at the foot of the bed. ‘I see you’ve eaten. That’s a good sign.’
Bill followed her gaze and shuddered. Then seriously wished he hadn’t, gritting his teeth until the pain subsided. Remind me not to do that again , he thought wearily.
‘So, do you want to tell me what happened?’ she asked, giving him a stern look. ‘Aren’t you too old to go chasing after burglars?’
‘You seem to know all there is to know.’ His reply was testy. Trust Glenys to have heard about it.
‘Thank God you didn’t catch them.’
Bill was cross that he hadn’t. He’d have given them what for.
She carried on, ‘What were they after, that’s what I’d like to know; it’s not like there’s anything in the cafe worth stealing.’
‘I don’t think they were out to steal anything. I reckon it was the same lot that graffitied the place.’
‘I always said that those kids were a menace, hanging around the park at all hours of the night – now look what they’ve done. Poor Bill.’
‘It wasn’t them.’
Glenys tilted her head. ‘How do you know? Did you see who did it?’
Bill let out a slow breath. ‘No.’
She gave a satisfied nod. ‘Well, then. You can’t say that it wasn’t them, can you? And who else could it be?’
That’s what Bill wanted to know. But never mind what Glenys said, he was convinced that Liam and his mates weren’t responsible, and he was too tired and too sore to think about it now. All he wanted was for Glenys to leave so he could go to sleep.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said, oblivious to his discomfort as she plumped his pillows and straightened the bedcover. ‘You’re going to need a bit of help for a while. Why don’t I pop in and do a few bits and pieces for you?’
Bill’s head sank deeper into the pillows. He suddenly felt exhausted. The ward was busy with visitors, but he knew that if he closed his eyes he’d be asleep in seconds and he fought to keep them open.
‘I could do a bit of washing, make you something to eat, run the vacuum cleaner around. Things like that.’
Bill murmured something. He didn’t know what, because his eyelids had drifted shut and he was out for the count.
***
Was that Fiona’s voice, or was he dreaming? Bill slowly surfaced, the noises around him reminding him where he was.
‘Shall we leave him to sleep?’ she was saying, and he forced his eyes open.
‘No, stay,’ he croaked. He licked his lips, his mouth dry.
Jack was hovering behind Fiona, and Bill managed to dredge up a faint smile.
Fiona said, ‘I’m not going to ask how you’re feeling because it’s obvious, but I am going to put your mind at rest, I hope. Patch is fine. He’s missing you of course, but he’s eaten some lunch, and me and him had a little nap on the sofa this afternoon. He’s had two walks, and he’s with Molly and Jet now. I’ll pick him up and take him back to mine when I get home, and he can spend the night with me, if that’s OK?’
It was more than OK. He knew Fiona would take good care of his dog. ‘Thank you.’ His voice was hoarse and his throat scratchy, and he licked his lips again.
‘Would you like some cordial? We’ve brought you a bottle, and some snacks because we didn’t know how long you would be in for.’
‘Yes, please.’
As Fiona swilled out a jug and refilled it with fresh water, Jack gently helped ease him into a more upright position. She put the plastic beaker into his good hand, and he was grateful that she didn’t try to fuss him, but let him get on with it.
Shakily, hoping neither Fiona nor Jack realised how weak he felt, Bill lifted the beaker to his lips and drank greedily. When he’d finished, she took it from him and popped it on the table. He noticed that the remnants of his lunch had been cleared away whilst he’d been asleep.
Fiona unpacked the bag she had brought with her, and Bill watched in fascination as she produced numerous wrapped parcels.
‘This is a cool bag,’ she said. ‘Have a look at this lot, and anything you don’t fancy I’ll take home with me, or you can save for later. It’ll be OK in here until tomorrow if you keep the zip closed.’
She showed him what was in the foil and greaseproof wrapped parcels, and Bill couldn’t believe his eyes. Fiona had made him a picnic, and not just any old picnic – this was fit for a king.
‘Goodness, how long do you think I’m going to be here for?’ he gasped, worrying that she knew something he didn’t. Had she spoken to the nurse?
‘A day or so, I expect,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘I know what it’s like after an operation; your appetite is all over the place, so I thought I’d bring you a bit of everything. I also know what hospital food is like,’ she continued with a wry smile, adding, ‘I had my appendix out about ten years ago. I don’t believe the food has got any better.’
‘It hasn’t.’ Bill didn’t have anything to compare it with, having never been in hospital before, but the meal he’d eaten earlier had been bland, lukewarm and uninspiring. He chose a slice of gala pie, his tummy rumbling in anticipation.
She said, ‘I’ll put this in your locker for you to pick at when you want, assuming you don’t want me to take any of it home.’
‘No, I like it all,’ he assured her. ‘Thank you.’
She brushed aside his thanks with a wave of her hand.
He felt quite emotional and as he watched her pack the snacks away, he had a lump in his throat when he realised that everything she had brought could be eaten one-handed. There was nothing that needed opening or peeling – except for the bag, and he could always get a nurse to do that for him.
Blinking, he focused on the view from the window until he’d managed to fight off the imminent tears. If Fiona or Jack noticed, they covered it well, and as he tackled his slice of pie the conversation turned to the cafe, the clean-up operation, and who might the likeliest culprit be.
‘I reckon it’s Pamela,’ Fiona stated.
‘Pamela from Best Bites?’ Bill was surprised.
‘I’m not a hundred per cent certain, of course,’ Fiona said, ‘but she’s been against the cafe from the start, and yesterday morning when I popped into Best Bites for a cup of tea with Molly’s gran, Pamela was downright obnoxious. She accused me of checking out the competition.’
Jack’s eyes were as wide as Bill’s. ‘It’s a possibility. But without any evidence, we can’t go accusing her.’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Fiona assured him. She turned to Bill. ‘Can you remember anything?’
‘I’ve been trying. All I saw was a figure leaving the park. They weren’t running, but they were walking quickly.’ He searched his memory. ‘They were dressed in dark clothing, but I couldn’t tell whether they were male or female. Hang on, there is something… I’m not totally sure, so don’t hold me to this, but I think whoever it was might have had a stick with them.’
‘A branch?’ Jack asked.
Bill frowned, scouring the hazy memory. ‘No, I don’t think so. It was thin and straight, like a walking stick.’
‘Were they using it to help them walk?’ Fiona asked.
Bill shook his head. ‘They were carrying it, I think. Sorry, it’s all a bit of a blur. I only caught a glimpse before I fell.’
‘A glimpse might be enough,’ Fiona said. ‘Now, who do we know that uses a walking stick?’
Bill couldn’t think of anyone, and he was too tired to think about it. Valiantly, he stifled a yawn.
Jack was frowning. ‘If they were carrying it, then they don’t need to use it all the time.’
‘Good point,’ Fiona said.
Despite Bill’s best efforts, the yawn escaped him.
‘I think it’s time we left,’ she said. ‘Visiting hours are almost over, and you look done in.’ She got to her feet and put a hand on his good arm. ‘It’ll be OK, Bill. You’ll be home in no time, and I promise I’ll take good care of Patch.’
He knew she would, but for the first time in what felt like forever, he wished he had someone who would take care of him . Just as long as it wasn’t bloody Glenys!
***
‘Are you OK?’ Jack was gazing at Fiona in concern as they walked to the car park.
Fiona bit her lip to stop it from trembling and shook her head.
Jack put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. ‘He’ll be all right, you know.’
‘I know.’ Her reply was a strangled sob. ‘But he looked so frail and ill. Oh, God.’ The tears came thick and fast, and she couldn’t hold them back.
Jack gathered her into an embrace, and she wept into his chest until she had cried herself out.
‘I’m sorry,’ she sniffled, fishing in her bag for a tissue. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
Actually, she did. Seeing Bill lying in his hospital bed, looking so helpless and drawn, had broken her heart. All she had wanted was to give him a big kiss and a cuddle, but he’d made it clear that he didn’t want that kind of affection from her.
Seeing someone she loved in so much pain, had rocked her to her core. After vowing not to allow love into her heart again, and not to open herself up to heartbreak, she had done precisely that. And look where it had got her!
She loved Bill, and it hurt. But she realised that it would hurt even more if he wasn’t in her life, so she needed to do anything and everything she could to keep him there. And if that meant being a good friend to him and nothing more, then that’s what she would be.
***
As the visitors left and the ward settled down for the evening, Bill found himself slipping in and out of sleep. The abominable ache in his shoulder kept waking him up (he wasn’t due another dose of painkiller yet), as did the comings and goings of the ward staff.
But along with his broken collarbone, there was another part of his body that was broken.
His heart.
Fiona was everything he could ever wish for in a woman, apart from one thing – she didn’t love him.
The question was, did he want her in his life as a friend, or was it best to cut all ties and relocate to the coast as he’d been thinking of doing? Could he live without seeing her again?
He didn’t believe he could.
Shifting uncomfortably, his pillows having slipped, Bill was thankful that he didn’t have to make that decision right now. He would give himself time to heal, and then see how he felt.
But as he drifted off to sleep again, he cursed his own laziness. If he had sold his mum’s house after she’d died, he wouldn’t have returned to Sweet Meadow, and he wouldn’t have had his heart broken for the second time in his life.