Chapter Six #2
‘Here you go, son.’ Vernon set an old wooden chair next to them. His brow was knotted with worry. No doubt he was afraid Gage would sue him. ‘Think you’re up to it?’
Gage opened his mouth to warn them he wasn’t a lightweight, but shut it equally fast when Tamara pinned him with a stern glare. It said if he didn’t believe she was capable of lifting him with one hand tied behind her back, he was a bigger idiot than she’d thought.
‘I think so. Thanks.’ It didn’t escape his notice that she swiftly positioned herself on his left side to take the majority of the strain. Halfway up, Vernon lurched so Tamara slid her arm around Gage’s waist to steady him and relieve the pressure on his leg.
‘Tea, I think, Mr Bull. Plenty of sugar.’
There was no medical proof that the common remedy beloved by all British people worked, but in houses all over the country, and on innumerable television shows, they used it for everything.
Tea was accepted as the universal cure. Actually, Gage detested sweet drinks.
In fact, he rarely touched sweet things of any sort.
Another of Tamara’s quelling looks came his way, so he didn’t say a word.
‘When you’ve had your drink, we’ll either take you to the surgery or call Judy to come here. Your choice.’
Before he had a chance to decide which was the lesser of the two evils, Georgie Rowe came in.
‘Oi, what’s up with you, mate?’ The builder simultaneously peered at Gage and selected a tin of peas.
By the time Vernon had pompously run through an inordinately detailed explanation, several more customers had trickled in. The whole rigmarole was gone through again until Gage felt like a zoo exhibit. The shopkeeper would start selling tickets soon.
‘I’ll fetch my car to run you up to the surgery,’ Tamara said firmly. ‘Don’t you dare move until I get back. I’ve still got Toby’s crutches in my garage from when he broke his ankle. You can use those.’
‘Thanks.’
‘No probs.’
The door bell tinkled again and Gage glanced up to see who else had arrived to join the festivities.
‘Oh, my love, what on earth have you done to yourself?’
The sight of Becky’s white face pained him worse than the knee.
Amazingly, in a village this small, they hadn’t bumped into each other since his misguided visit just over a week ago.
Probably by design on her part. He couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat.
Her over-the-top reaction wouldn’t go unnoticed and could bring trouble in its wake.
‘He fell and hurt his knee, but we knew what to do to help,’ Vernon said boastfully.
‘I’m getting my car, Becky, and taking him to see the doc.’
He couldn’t help thinking that Tamara would’ve made a good soldier. She’d assessed the situation and taken action. Questions could wait until later.
‘Tea, Mr Bull?’ Tamara’s sharp question presented as more of an order, and the man turned puce. Being told what to do in his own domain didn’t sit well.
He scuttled off and Tamara followed suit. By some sort of osmosis, the few customers scattered around the place and pretended to get on with their shopping. Whispered conversations drifted his way and Gage could only imagine the wild speculations being dreamed up.
‘If you’re being looked after, I’ll get on home,’ Becky muttered, still clutching her handbag to her chest.
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Honest.’
She blinked back tears and ducked her head in a brief nod, then couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Whatever shopping she’d come in for clearly wasn’t as important as making her escape without being plagued by questions.
‘Here you go.’ Vernon reappeared and thrust a mug in his hand. ‘If you’re all right, I need to get back to serving.’
‘Of course. Thanks.’ Heaven forbid an injured customer should hold up the wheels of commerce.
Gage winced as the sickly-sweet tea hit his tastebuds, but dutifully gulped it down. He’d caused enough trouble one way or another today.
* * *
Tamara stared unseeingly at the dog-eared magazine, a spring issue touting how to attain a beach-worthy body in four weeks.
Calling someone ‘my love’ was a common expression in Cornwall, so it hadn’t been strange to hear Becky spontaneously call Gage that at the shop.
But what did niggle her was Becky’s pale, frightened expression.
It went far above the more normal level of concern everyone else had shown for Gage, considering he was basically a stranger.
In the car he didn’t say a single word. Of course he was in pain, so might not have felt up to talking, but she strongly suspected he’d taken refuge in that excuse to avoid answering any questions.
‘Good news.’ Judy appeared, smiling broadly.
Behind her, Gage limped stoically along, leaning heavily on the crutches.
‘He was lucky. He hasn’t wrecked the artificial knee or broken any bones around it.
Some of the ligaments are sprained and there’s significant bruising.
Painkillers. Rest.’ She nodded at him. ‘Use the crutches for a couple of weeks to keep weight-bearing to a minimum. No stairs, unless it’s unavoidable, and then only if someone is around to help.
You’re generally a fit man, so I’d say within a month you’ll be back to normal. ’
Frustration pulsed off him. The timing couldn’t be worse.
‘I’ll look out for him, Judy, and thanks for fitting us in.’
‘You’re welcome. Who needs a lunch break anyway?’ The doctor laughed.
Tamara liked Judy. They were about the same age and she got the impression the other woman was lonely too.
Her position as the village doctor was isolating because it wasn’t easy to make friends with people who were also your patients.
Once, she tentatively suggested that Judy might consider joining the book club, but the offer was turned down on the basis that her long, often unpredictable hours wouldn’t allow for it.
‘Come on, let’s get you home.’ Tamara was struck by the realisation that it wasn’t that simple. ‘You’ve moved your stuff into the shop flat, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ Gage sounded wary, as if it were a trick question.
Out in the car, she planted her hands on the steering wheel and turned to him. ‘You won’t be able to manage the stairs. My sofa opens out to a double bed and I’ve got a downstairs loo, so you’d better come and stay with me.’
‘I couldn’t possibly—’
‘Do you have a better idea?’
His silence answered for him.
‘Didn’t think so.’
Gage glowered. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re pushy?’
‘I bet you wouldn’t say that to another man.’ She turned on him with a vengeance. ‘You’d call him take-charge and capable.’
‘Sorry. All I really meant was that you didn’t need to—’
‘Worry about you? It’s what friends do. I hope we’re that.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, we are.’ His head drooped and the tips of his ears turned pink. ‘About what happened at the shop — with Becky — it’s tricky.’ A sigh puffed out of him.
‘It would be. You don’t do simple. I’ve worked that out already.’
That brought out a semblance of a smile.
‘So, are you going to accept my offer or keep on being stubborn?’
She could tell it was on the tip of his tongue to argue. It certainly would be on hers if things had been the other way around. Neither of them liked the idea of accepting help unless they were absolutely forced to. Recognising the similarity between them made her uneasy.
‘I’ll accept your offer for tonight, and then we’ll see.’
She could tease him about sounding so grudging, but put herself in his shoes and let him keep the rest of his pride intact.
‘Okay. Number eight, Chapel Street, next stop.’
Now she could smile, but the terror that had consumed her when she’d seen him sprawled over the floor in Vernon Bull’s shop would linger a very long time.