Page 20 of Second Chances at the Farm on Muddypuddle
‘How’s Walter?’ Maisie asked, and Dulcie clapped a hand to her mouth.
‘Oops, I’d forgotten Walter. Mum, do you mind asking him if he’d like a cuppa? And I don’t think he’s had any breakfast yet. Could you see what he wants? I’ve got to get on – I start work at nine, and Otto needs to be at the restaurant soon.’
Beth heaved a resigned sigh. She didn’t relish running around after Walter, but if it helped Dulcie she would do it. Atleast Dulcie and Maisie didn’t seem too cross with her now that they’d got over the initial shock. As long as she survived the next few weeks living in the same house as Walter, she had a feeling that moving to Picklewick might be the best thing she’d ever done.
Walter could hear voices coming from the kitchen and realised that Maisie was berating her mother. He didn’t blame her. If he was Maisie, he’d be cross with Beth too.
But when his conscience reminded him that he had been no better when he’d hidden the farm’s financial problems from Otto, he felt a bit guilty for being so judgemental. He had acted far worse, hiding the situation for months, until the stress had put him in hospital and forced Otto to give up his lucrative job as one of London’s top chefs.
So Walter honestly didn’t have a leg to stand on. Beth relocating to Picklewick without informing her family was small fry compared to what he had done. Maybe he should cut her some slack.
But cutting her some slack didn’t make her any less irritating or abrasive. She rubbed him up the wrong way, and he suspected he did the same for her. Speak of the devil…
Beth’s face appeared around the living room door. ‘Tea? And Dulcie wants to know what you want for breakfast.’
‘I’ll have a cup, if there’s one in the pot. But tell her not to bother with breakfast. I can make my own.’
‘Pft! How are you going to do that without any hands?’
‘I’ve got hands.’ He waved them in the air. ‘See?’ Was she really as daft as she sounded?
‘They’ll be holding onto your crutches,’ she told him.
She had a point. ‘Other people manage.’ He wasn’t sure how, but they must do.
‘If you think you can fry yourself an egg, be my guest.’
‘I don’t want a fried egg.’
‘Whatdoyou want?’
‘Toast.’
‘One slice or two?’
‘Two, but I can do it myself.’
‘Dulcie keeps her toaster in the cupboard next to the sink. Good luck with bending down to get that out and don’t blame me if you fall over.’
‘I won’t fall over.’
‘Look—’ She moved further into the room and put her hands on her hips. ‘Stop being such a stubborn old git and let me make you some toast. It’s no bother. It’ll be more bother if you fall and break your other leg.’
‘I won’t fall,’ he repeated. She was right though; until he got the hang of those crutches, he was a danger to himself. It didn’t help that he felt as weak as a kitten and utterly exhausted. ‘Not too much butter, and a dab of marmalade wouldn’t go amiss,’ he relented.
‘There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’
Actually, it had been torture admitting, even tacitly, that he needed help from Beth. At least he was out of bed and dressed (thanks to Otto), which made him feel less of a patient and more of a guest.
Beth returned a few minutes later with a plate of hot, buttered toast and a mug of tea. Thankfully she didn’t decide to keep him company, so he ate his breakfast in peace whilst watching morning TV. But eventually he needed the loo and the thought of Beth’s eyes on him as he made his way through the kitchen, got him cross all over again.
Before that though, he had to get out of the chair. Determined not to call for help, he shuffled his bottom closer to the edge of the seat and positioned his good foot as near to the chair as possible. It took him three goes before he managed to get to his feet, and by the time he was upright sweat was beading his brow and trickling down his back. But he’d done it!
Unfortunately that was where it fell apart. As he reached for his crutches, he managed to knock them over. They fell to the floor with a clatter which brought Dulcie and Beth running.
Dulcie got to him first, bending down to pick them up. She held onto his elbow to steady him, as he slid his arms into them.
‘You get back to work,’ Beth told Dulcie. ‘I’ll sort Walter out.’
