Page 114 of The Side Road
‘Okay, I have a script.’ Her hands were shaking. ‘For painkillers.’
He took the paper from her. ‘Wait here.’
Oliver disappeared into the pharmacy. He returned a few minutes later with a shopping bag.
‘Snood,’ she asked. ‘He’s been home alone all day.’
‘Tash and Mary have him. They’ve taken him to the park.’
‘Okay, that’s good. Thank you.’
‘How’s the pain?’
‘Honestly, it’s terrible. All they’ve given me so far is strong paracetamol. I hope there are some extra heavy-duty painkillers in that bag.’
He guided her to the exit.
The afternoon was chilly. She wore a T-shirt and jeans. He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her. In the car, he buckled her into the seat and turned up the heating.
‘I thought it was a sprain,’ she said. ‘And I might feel better in the morning. When I got home from the park, I made a sling and took a few painkillers, but it throbbed all day and all night. Even the tiniest movement hurts. I haven’t slept a wink.’
‘You should have called someone,’ he scolded.
‘Sunday morning is the busiest time in the emergency ward – because of all the injuries that happen on Saturday night. They were understaffed. I’ve been here for six hours. It’s broken in two places and a little piece of bone has chipped off the side.’ Once more, tears welled in her eyes. ‘I can’t do anything,’ she said. ‘At the hospital, a nurse bought me a coffee, and I couldn’t even take the lid off a disposable cup.’
‘You’ll need help for a week or two, but after that, you’ll manage.’
The Citroën glided over every pothole in the road, and she was thankful for the smooth ride.
‘I can’t get dressed. I can’t take a shower. Or tie my shoelaces. Or do up my buttons. What am I going to do? I can’t knit?’ She could also add a broken heart to her list of ailments.
‘It’s only six weeks.’
‘Eight!’
‘Eight weeks. You can wear slip-on shoes. The coffee cup you can open with your teeth.’
She looked at him. ‘You’ve broken your arm before?’
‘Both wrists and an arm.’
‘Then you know how much it hurts. I’ve never in my life been in this much pain. I had no idea broken bones hurt this much. I can’t drive. I can’t shower – did I say that already?’ She sighed, turned and looked out the window. ‘Arms are more important than you realise. This car is very smooth. I appreciate the hydro…’
‘Hydropneumatic suspension.’
‘Yes, that. Thank you for picking me up.’
Oliver parked the Citroën outside Mia’s house. He helped her inside. In the kitchen, he put on the kettle and set out the cups for tea.
‘Broken bones need rest. First, I’m going to run you a bath.’ He opened the pharmacy bag. Inside was a waterproof sleeve for her cast.
‘When can I take my painkillers?’ she asked.
He scratched his neck. ‘The thing is, they’ve given you more paracetamol.’
‘Are you kidding me!’
‘It’s what they give you for broken bones.’ The kettle boiled and Oliver poured the tea. There was bread in thepantry and he placed a slice in the toaster. When the tea brewed, he handed her a cup.
