Page 24 of Home This Christmas

NINETEEN

I walk along the high street towards the hotel, taking things slowly as the pavements are icy, and take in every single shop that is decorated with Christmas decorations, from full-on flashing trees in the windows of some shops, to subtle silver streamers hanging down in the window of the clothes store.

The fruit and veg shop has boxes of clementines and chestnuts displayed on a table outside, alongside pretty Poinsettia plants with their striking scarlet leaves. Every single shop owner has tried to make their shops look seasonal and joyful, reminding me once more of the sense of community here.

I am almost back at the hotel and give one glance back down the high street, when suddenly I’m falling. I trip over and hear the crack almost instantly as I land on the icy pavement and scream out in pain. Just at that moment, snow begins to slowly swirl from the sky. You have to be kidding.

‘Oh, my goodness, what’s happened?’ June is out of the door of the hotel at once, having heard me cry out. The pain sears through my body as I realise I can’t put any weight onto my foot when I attempt to stand. I can also feel a pair of strong arms around me, helping me to my feet.

‘Nathan,’ I say in shock, breathing through the pain.

‘Does it hurt?’ Pippa holds her mum’s hand and looks as if she is about to burst into tears. Suddenly a crowd is surrounding me. The snowflakes seem to be gathering momentum, as people throw up the hoods on their coats.

‘It does,’ I tell her truthfully.

‘I’m sorry I dropped my dog.’

I didn’t notice the child’s wooden toy on the floor. It’s broken in two – hopefully that was the crack I heard and not me.

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ I smile through my pain.

‘We need to get you off that cold floor, and inside,’ June resolves.

‘I’ll call an ambulance.’ Esme’s face is etched with concern. Is it that bad?

‘No, no really I don’t think there is any need for that.’ I shake my head, despite the unbearable pain shooting through my lower leg. Perhaps if I just get inside and put my feet up for a while I will be okay. It’s probably nothing more than a sprain.

‘I definitely think you need to get checked out at the hospital,’ Nathan agrees.

Inside, June somehow manages to gently remove my boot, revealing an already swollen ankle.

She dashes off for a moment, before returning with a glass of water and some pills. ‘Here, swallow down a couple of these. Take three; it will really take the edge off. I was prescribed them after my hysterectomy last year.’

At this point, I would gladly take some ketamine from a street dealer if I was offered it. I swallow down the pills gratefully, hoping they will quickly take effect.

Esme calls her paramedic husband to see if there are any ambulances in the area. ‘Although I will still need to put in the emergency call,’ she explains to me.

How can this be happening? Five minutes ago, I was finishing a walk through the countryside and now here I am, hardly able to move.

‘They are a little busy this morning,’ Esme says after finishing a call. ‘But an ambulance should be with you in around an hour.’

‘We can be at the hospital in half an hour.’ Nathan glances at his watch. ‘I’ll drive you there.’

‘No, no please, I am sure you are busy today,’ I protest.

‘Nothing I can’t cancel. I will be back for the wedding.’ He turns to June, who is hosting the reception at the pub.

‘Then just drop me at the hospital,’ I tell Nathan. ‘I will be fine from there.’

‘Let’s just see what happens when we get there,’ he says. ‘I’ll bring my car to the front of the hotel.’

I am somehow carefully manoeuvred into Nathan’s car, and before we arrive at the hospital, the drugs that June gave me are beginning to take effect.

The pain has not completely dulled, yet I don’t seem to mind it.

This surreal world I find myself in, where everything feels soft around the edges, is rather pleasant.

Catching my reflection in the car window, I can see myself grinning like a Cheshire cat.

What on Earth did June give me, I wonder?

She did tell me the name, but somehow, it’s too distant for me to grasp.

Maybe it’s just as well that I feel semi-comatose, as the realisation hits me that I will not be on that two o’clock train. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.