Page 79 of A Wedding in Tuscany

‘As in a veterinarian?’ asks Mum, incredulous.

‘Well, yes, but he’s the closest we’ve got to a doctor. If he thinks it’s just a sprain, then …’ Cat trails off then looks to me for support.

‘I think it’s a good idea.’ I’m not a hundred per cent on board, but there’s a time crunch and if we can avoid a trip to hospital then it’s worth a shot.

‘He’s on his way,’ says Jaelee, tapping her phone to end a call. Wow, she works fast.

‘All right,’ says Mum, seemingly relieved. ‘Jaelee, let’s you and I finish in the loft. Sarah, you stay here with your father. Catherine, you … you go back to being a bride.’ I’m not sure why Mum doesn’t want to stay here with Dad while we wait for Anders, but maybe it’s because it’ll be too stressful for her and she needs to keep busy. She and Jaelee leave.

Cat gives Dad a kiss on the cheek. ‘I hope you’re okay, Daddy,’ she says to him quietly.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing love,’ he says reassuringly, flashing a hopeful smile. Cat doesn’t say anything more but throws a look of concern my way as she departs the kitchen. I press my lips together?no use reassuring her when I have no idea how bad it is.

‘Can I get you something, Dad?’ I ask when it’s just the two of us. ‘Cup of tea?’

‘A nip of Scotch would be great,’ he jokes.

‘Not sure we have any of that. And if you do need to go to hospital, then …’

‘You’re right love.’ He blows out a heavy sigh. ‘A cup of tea would be great.’ I turn on the kettle and take out a mug and a teabag, then decide I’ll have one too and grab a second mug. ‘I feel like a right idiot,’ says Dad.

‘What? No, Dad, it was just an accident.’

‘Yeah, but on my daughter’s wedding day and I’m supposed to walk her down the aisle …’

‘Even if you’re on crutches, Dad, the aisle’s only ten feet long. It’ll be okay.’

The kettle boils and I pour water over the teabags, then look over at Dad. ‘How are you feeling? The ibuprofen kicking in yet?’

‘Oh, yes, definitely.’ I’m not sure I believe him. I think he’s putting on a brave face?that or something else is up. I finish making the tea?strong and milky, no sugar, the way we both take it?and set the mugs on the table.

‘Thank you, love.’

‘Of course.’ He takes his and we sip in silence. If something is up with Dad, keeping quiet is the best way to get it out of him.

‘You know,’ he says after a minute or two, ‘sometimes it hits me?the ageing thing.’ See?

‘How do you mean?’

‘Like falling today. I’m not as steady on my feet as I once was and I can’t do as much either. I mean, I can?I can spend a whole day in the backyard or the shed working on a project?but I’ll be feeling it for days to come. The body isn’t what it used to be, that’s for sure. And my spatial awareness has gone to shit?always bumping into things.’

‘More so than usual?’ If I inherited my predilection for organisation from Mum, then my clumsiness comes from Dad. ‘If that’s a sign of ageing, I must be ancient.’

He chuckles softly. ‘What was it that we used to say? That you were a …’

‘Disaster waiting to happen,’ I say, finishing the thought with him.

‘Still,’ he says, smiling warmly at me, ‘it’s better than the alternative.’

‘What is?’

‘Getting older.’

‘What’s the alternative?’

‘What do ya reckon?’ Oh, he means death.

‘Oh, yeah, definitely.’