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All her questions were rhetorical. With a shake of her hand, she freed herself from Giles’s grip before racing away from him and towards the source of the bang.

A thousand thoughts whirred through her head as she ran, trying to remember everything she’d learned from all those first-aid courses she had taken. Every year, she did the refreshers, and she had put various skills to use. Only last summer, she’d cleaned and bandaged the wound of a small child who had slipped in the river and cut their leg. She had also been moments away from using the village defibrillator when a customer at the bakery suffered a suspected heart attack – only someone had managed to grab a local doctor before she was required to put her skills to the test. But she had surprised herself with her calmness in those moments. The measured way in which her mind had slowed. She’d assessed the situation, knew what she needed to do. It would be the same here; she was sure of it. There had been no screaming. Was that good or not? She probably wouldn’t know until she saw them.

‘Holly, wait. Wait for me.’

As she turned the corner of the building, Giles was right by her side. He slipped his hand in hers, but she knew it wasn’t to slow her down this time. It was just to make sure he stayed with her.

‘Excuse me.’ Holly raised her voice to the large crowd that had gathered. ‘I need to get past. I need to get through.’

‘People! Move!’ Giles added.

Finally, they pushed their way through to the front of the group and to the source of the commotion. It was indeed the drunk men from earlier, and they had indeed crashed the buggy, but they were all standing behind the vehicle and none of them seemed to have a drop of blood on them.

One, however, was crying while muttering, ‘My wife is going to kill me. She’s going to kill me.’

Holly stepped forwards and was still trying to work out what exactly had happened when Giles spoke.

‘You have to be joking,’ he said. ‘You have got to be joking.’

58

Giles marched past Holly and everyone else until he was standing at the front of the golf buggy. The front of the golf buggy that was exactly where Giles’s vintage car’s wing mirror had been only minutes before. All down the side was a long scratch.

‘It was the brakes,’ Craig said. ‘The brakes on these things don’t work properly. This is the hotel’s fault for having vehicles with dodgy brakes. This isn’t our fault.’

‘Please shut up, Craig,’ one of the friends said.

‘It’s the gravel. It’s?—’

‘Craig!’ This time, it was all three of his friends simultaneously. Finally, Craig turned around as if he was about to pick a fight with one of his friends, but Holly didn’t care what he was doing at all. What she cared about, or rather who, was Giles.

Giles had had this car for over a decade. Probably for over half his life. And as silly as it might be for some people to attach sentimental value to pieces of metal, she knew how many journeys he had been on with it, the places it had taken him. She herself was sentimentally attached to the car, so she couldn’t imagine what it was like for him.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

For a second, he continued to stare, but he didn’t move.

‘We can’t drive it like this,’ he said. ‘Legally. Not with a wing mirror like that. No, this needs to be fixed. Immediately.’

‘Yes, yes, of course it does.’ A woman wearing a tag with the wordManagerwritten beneath her name, Evelyn, bustled her way next to Giles and Holly. ‘I assume this is your vehicle,’ she said. ‘I’m ever so sorry. We know several great mechanics in the area. I’ll get on the phone now. It’ll be sorted, absolutely sorted. And obviously, we will pay for all the repairs. A complete repaint. Anything it needs.’

‘Just get it good enough that I can drive it home,’ Giles said. ‘I’ll let my mechanic deal with it there.’

‘If that’s what you want,’ she said, ‘and please, sit yourself in the smoking-room bar. Whatever you want, it’s on the house. I’ll just be a minute.’

Holly smiled gratefully at the woman, although she didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t her place to speak and Giles didn’t look like he was in a place to say anything. Instead, he was crouching down by the car door, running his hand along the scratches as he inspected the damage.

‘It was all original paintwork,’ he said after a few minutes. ‘This entire thing was original. It’s not just the money; it’s the history, you know?’

Holly wasn’t sure if he was asking her, or if the question was rhetorical, but she replied anyway.

‘I get it. I’m really sorry. I know how much it means to you, but it can be fixed. It might not be the same, but it can be fixed and you can still make more memories together.’

Holly wasn’t sure what effect she expected her words to have, but immediately Giles stood up and nodded. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make a fuss. It’s just a car. Just bits of metal and rubber.’

‘Bits of metal and rubber that have meaning to you. That’s okay.’

As their eyes locked, Giles let out a slight laugh and Holly was sure he was going to say something more, but a sudden thought struck her.