Page 3 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

Freya was lucky to have found a parking space, and she drove the rental car into an empty bay just seconds ahead of another driver, who had spotted it at the same time as she had.

In no mood for the sour look the driver gave her, she switched off the engine and leant her head against the back of the seat.

She was exhausted and close to tears. A fall, the hospital had said. Being transferred to Raigmore Hospital in Inverness, they’d said. He needed an operation, they’d said.

It’s what they hadn’t said that concerned Freya.

Skye’s Broadford Hospital had an Accident and Emergency department which was perfectly adequate for minor injuries.

But her father had been taken to the hospital in Inverness instead, which told her that his fall was definitely something to worry about, so she had thrown some clothes and toiletries into a suitcase and dashed to the airport.

Flying was the fastest way to get to Inverness from London.

She had repeatedly phoned her dad on his mobile but hadn’t been able to get an answer.

While she’d waited for her flight to be called, she’d paced up and down, hoping to be connected to someone in Raigmore Hospital who could tell her what was going on, but all they’d been prepared to say was that he was out of surgery and was comfortable.

Gathering herself, Freya climbed out of the car and headed for the main entrance, and as she walked through the doors, she was hit with the same feeling of dread and grief that she’d had the first time she’d visited her mother in hospital.

That feeling had never gone away, and just the sight of those clinical corridors was enough to make her stomach churn and her heart race.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she went in search of the lifts. He’ll be OK, he’ll be OK , she chanted silently.

She’d been saying the same thing over and over, all the way from London, but she hadn’t managed to convince herself yet. The only way she would be convinced was by seeing him.

It took her a while to locate the correct ward, and when she did, she found her dad in a bed near the window.

His eyes were closed, and she took a moment to compose herself.

He looked grey and drawn, his hair whiter than the last time she’d seen him, his cheeks more lined. He had a drip in his left hand.

She would find someone to give her an update of his condition, then she’d sit with him until they threw her out.

‘Are you a relative?’ a nurse enquired when Freya asked for information.

‘I’m his daughter. Broadford rang me this morning to say he’d had a fall and was being transferred here because he needed an operation.

They told me he’d broken his hip.’ Dad was seventy-four, and she was aware that fractured hips were more common the older you got.

But surely he wasn’t that old? ‘How did it happen, do you know?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure.’ The nurse touched her lightly on the arm. ‘He’s doing OK; try not to worry. I expect you’ve got loads of questions, but it’s best to ask the doctor when she does her rounds in the morning. You should be able to catch her between nine and ten o’clock.’

‘Right. Thanks. I’ll… um…’ Freya pointed to the ward, smiled uncertainly, then went back to sit with her sleeping father.

‘I told them not to bother you.’

Freya jerked up at the sound of her father’s creaky voice, wincing when her neck went into a spasm at the sudden movement. Scrambling to her feet, she leant over him.

‘Dad,’ she murmured, relieved to see him awake and looking more like his old self. Some of the colour had returned to his face and his cheeks didn’t look as sunken. ‘I’m glad they did.’

‘What day is it?’

It took Freya a moment to remember. Was it only yesterday evening that she’d been feted at her own exhibition? It seemed like weeks ago. ‘Thursday.’

He licked his lips, his eyes drifting shut once more, and she wondered whether she should call anyone. ‘Wait there, Dad. I’ll go find someone.’

He opened an eye. ‘Hen, I’m not going anywhere. Did they tell you I’ve fractured my hip? What a silly billy, eh?’

She shook her head. ‘How did it happen?’

‘Och, you know. Lost my balance.’ He swallowed. ‘Is there any water?’

There was a plastic jug on a table next to the bed and as Freya picked it up, he grasped her hand and she was alarmed at how weak his grip was.

‘And painkillers,’ he said, discomfort etched on his face.

When she returned to tell him that a nurse would be along shortly with some tablets, he appeared to be asleep, but he opened his eyes when she touched his arm.

After the nurse had given him his pills, Freya sat with him for a while, watching him sleep, but when he stirred, she said, ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll be back in the morning. I want to be here when the doctor does her rounds.’

Panic flared in his eyes and she guessed the reason. ‘I can’t stay much longer,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got to find a bed for the night.’ Hoping to lighten his mood, she added, ‘It’s all right for you, you’ve got somewhere to sleep.’

To her dismay, his eyes filled with tears and guilt engulfed her. This wasn’t the time for levity. Her poor dad had been through an ordeal, and all she could do was joke about it?

‘I’m sorry, Dad, that was insensitive.’ She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, holding back tears.

‘I’m the one who should be sorry, hen. I didn’t want to drag you all this way. I asked them not to bother you.’

‘They were right to phone me,’ Freya said once again. She narrowed her eyes. ‘When exactly did you fall?’

‘Tuesday night. I got up and went downstairs because I couldn’t sleep, and tripped over my own feet. Rhona heard me calling when she let her cat out in the morning. She phoned for an ambulance, and they took me to Broadford.’

‘Why didn’t you ring me straight away or ask Rhona to?’ she demanded, appalled to think that he’d been lying on the floor for hours and he’d had to pray that his next-door neighbour heard his calls for help. It broke her heart to think how much pain he’d been in, and how scared he must have been.

‘I was hoping it wasn’t too bad, but they did an X-ray and told me I needed to go to Raigmore because they couldn’t do the surgery at Broadford.’

‘But why didn’t you ring me?’ she persisted.

‘My mobile’s in the house, by my bed. I haven’t got it with me.’

‘Dad, that’s no excuse. Thank God someone had the sense to call me.’

Her father’s eyes were downcast, and she abruptly realised that the reason he hadn’t wanted to ‘bother her’ was because he hadn’t wanted to spoil the opening night of the exhibition. It pained her that he’d felt he wasn’t able to call on her. It made her feel like the worst daughter in the world.

It didn’t help that she lived so far away. It wasn’t as though she could pop in every week to check on him. She relied on him to tell her how he was, in between visits.

Now wasn’t the best time to have this out with him, but they’d definitely be having a wee chat once he was back on his feet again.

Freya sighed with exasperation. She could seriously do without a

cross-examination from Hadrian.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘I’ve only just got here. Days, probably.’

‘Days?’

‘He’s fractured his hip,’ she repeated. Had her boyfriend not listened to a word she’d said?

She knew what was wrong with him – he was sulking because they were supposed to be going out to dinner tomorrow evening with someone Hadrian wanted to impress. What did he expect her to do? Hightail it back to London tonight?

‘Yes, but days ?’ he repeated.

She huffed out an irritated breath. ‘It could be longer.’ Freya wouldn’t know until she’d spoken with the doctor and found out how long her dad’s recovery might take. ‘Hang on, I’m putting you on speakerphone,’ she said, and sat on the edge of the bed to undo the laces on her Doc Martens.

‘Where are you exactly?’ he asked.

‘Inverness. I’ve just booked into a hotel for the night.’

‘What are you doing in Inverness ?’

Freya kicked her boots off. One of them flew across the room and landed with a thud. ‘That’s where my dad is.’

‘I thought he lived on Skye?’

‘He does.’ She took pity on him and explained, ‘Inverness is the nearest hospital to Skye that can perform hip operations.’

‘But that’s like a hundred miles away,’ he protested, and she guessed he was looking it up as they spoke.

‘The Highlands isn’t like London. Look, I’ve got to go. I haven’t eaten a thing all day and I need a shower.’

‘I wish I could join you in it, babe.’ He chuckled.

Freya rolled her eyes. ‘Good night, Hadrian. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

She ended the call and flopped back onto the bed. She was too worn out to move, but she knew she’d have to eat, and she would definitely feel better after a shower.

Thankfully, the hotel had room service. She’d have a quick shower, order some food, then settle down in bed and scour the internet. After all, forewarned is forearmed, and she wanted to find out as much as she could about fractured hips before she spoke with the doctor tomorrow.

Freya laid out the pyjamas and toiletries she’d bought for her dad,

placing each one on his bed, hoping he’d approve.

‘You shouldn’t have,’ he kept saying as she pulled each item out of the bag.

Thank goodness she’d found a supermarket nearby and had been able to drop in on the way to the hospital this morning. She’d noticed that he didn’t have anything with him and, since he would probably be in hospital for a few days, she’d taken it upon herself to buy him some bits and bobs.

He touched the hem of the pyjama bottoms, and she noticed a tremor in his hand. The fall and subsequent operation had badly shaken him, she realised, her heart aching at how frail he seemed.

‘I’ve arranged for a bouquet to be sent to Rhona,’ she told him.

‘That’s nice. She’ll like that. I’ll thank her myself when I see her. I might even buy that cat of hers a little treat.’ He closed his eyes, and Freya watched the rise and fall of his chest, wondering whether he had drifted off to sleep.

If he had, he soon came awake again when a nurse bustled in, wheeling some kind of contraption.

She smiled at Freya, then said, ‘Right, Vinnie, let’s take your vitals, shall we?

’ She picked up his hand, the one with the needle in the vein, and popped a peg on his index finger.

‘Blood sats,’ she explained, noticing Freya’s concern.

‘Oxygen levels.’ She made a note of the results, then took his temperature and blood pressure.

‘Is everything OK?’ Freya asked anxiously.

‘He’s fine,’ the nurse replied.

Freya was about to question her further when a small woman in a white coat walked onto the ward, trailing three people in her wake.

‘Hello, Vincent,’ she said. ‘I’m Magda Poole, your consultant. We met yesterday, but don’t worry if you can’t remember – you were a bit out of it. I performed the surgery on your hip. Do you mind if I check your wound?’

Freya looked away until the consultant had finished her examination, not wanting to embarrass him.

Mrs Poole said, ‘That’s looking good. I’m pleased to say that the surgery went well.’

Thank goodness , Freya thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Her dad had a way to go before he was back on his feet again, but with some TLC from her, he should make a full recovery.

As the consultant was about to leave, her dad asked, ‘How soon can I go home?’

Freya wanted to know the answer to that as well.

The consultant said, ‘You do understand that a fractured hip is a serious injury, and although the procedure to repair it is a routine one, it’s still a major operation.

Recovery is likely to take several months.

Your muscles, bones and ligaments need time to heal.

’ She pursed her lips. ‘I expect you’ll be here for ten to fourteen days, under the circumstances. ’

Freya was dismayed. She’d hoped she could have taken him home in a couple of days. She could see the disappointment on his face, too.

The consultant hadn’t finished. ‘The physiotherapist will be along later to help you get out of bed, and we’ll see how you progress from there. I want you to be able to get around with a walker before we discuss discharging you.’

Freya was horrified. ‘You intend to get him out of bed today ?’

‘That’s right. It’ll help reduce the risk of chest infection and blood clots.

The more mobile he is, the better.’ She turned back to Freya’s dad and said, ‘An occupational therapist will speak to you about your home situation and will want to discuss your ability to manage. A broken hip is a serious injury, so you may well need extra help at home for some considerable time.’

After the consultant left, Freya knew she should have asked how long the ‘considerable time’ might be – but she was too scared of the answer.