Page 14 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 10
After taking me to their vehicle and assessing my overall condition, the mountain rescue team wanted me to go to hospital to get properly checked out. But feeling humiliated, I’d refused to take their advice. At the time, I just wanted to get to Number 3, Bluebell Row, pack up my things and run back to London where I belonged.
Having managed to talk me out of doing a runner, Oliver had taken me back to Aunt Lillian’s cottage, dragged one of her armchairs over to the roaring fire he’d set, and while he’d gone off to make me some hot chocolate, I sat motionless, watching the flames dance around. Frank, who hadn’t left my side since escaping Oliver’s rucksack, had taken position next to me, ensuring his head stayed firmly on my lap. Still wearing my coat and wrapped in the blanket the mountain rescue chap had enveloped me in, my mind raced as thoughts of what could have happened flooded my brain.
I could still feel the fear as my hands became increasingly numb and my grip weaker, knowing that if I hadn’t managed to hold on as long as I had, I could have fallen. I had better odds of winning the lottery than I did of landing on that ledge and I pictured myself bouncing off the rock face, grasping and grabbing as I tried to break my fall. At best I’d have been left battered, bruised, and literally broken – ribs, arms, legs, neck… At worst I’d have been dead. Sitting there, my life flashed in front of my eyes just thinking about it.
If I had lost my life that morning, I questioned what impact my passing would have had. Jules would never have been able to enjoy Christmas again. Not only would that time of year be forever associated with her best friend’s death, I knew the guilt she’d have felt for persuading me to make the trip north on her behalf would be too much for her to bear. My funeral would’ve been a pathetic affair, attended only by Jules and Harry, I realised, and possibly one or two of my ex-dog walking clients if I was lucky.
A tear of self-pity rolled down my cheek. It seemed Jules had been right all along. Going off those numbers I clearly wasn’t a people person by any stretch of the imagination. Apart from Jules and Harry, no one would miss me, such was the mark I’d left on the world. Or lack of. But at thirty-four years old, how did I even begin to change that?
“Here you are,” Oliver said. Entering the room with a mug of hot chocolate, he held it out for me to take.
I quickly wiped my tears away. “Thank you,” I replied, trying to muster a smile.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern written all over his face.
I nodded, feeling anything but.
He sat down on the corner of the coffee table, giving me his undivided attention. “It’s all right if you’re not. Because that’s a big thing you’ve just been through.”
“Honestly, I’m fine.”
He looked back at me, his eyebrow raised, making it clear he didn’t believe a word of what I’d just said.
“Really,” I said, reiterating. “I’m okay. I’m just feeling a bit sorry for myself, that’s all.”
Oliver gave me a gentle smile. “Why don’t I sort you a bath?”
“That’s very kind…” I indicated my mug. “But I think you’ve done enough.”
“Antonia, I want to. Besides, it’s the best way to warm you up.” He smiled. “Or should I say, second best?”
I let out a laugh. “All right,” I said, grateful. “A bath it is. Although if you do need to go, get to work or something, I can run one out later.”
He headed for the living room door.
“It wasn’t your fault, me getting stuck like that,” I said, stopping him in his tracks.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t feel terrible about it,” Oliver said. “Going up Fotherghyll Fell was my idea, remember.”
As he headed upstairs, I knew it would have been easy for me to blame Oliver for the whole fiasco, but being honest, I felt bad that he felt bad. I’d known trudging o’er hill and dale wasn’t my thing and I scolded myself for not asking what he’d had planned for us before agreeing to go. Not only that, I could have easily refused to continue when it finally dawned on me where we were headed. Just like I could have said no when it came to the point of having to climb some of the way instead of walking. I sighed. Poor Oliver was running around after me because he felt accountable, when he really had no reason to think that.
Wrapping my hands around my mug, I took a sip, immediately grimacing at the amount of sugar I could taste. Oliver was obviously trying to counteract any shock I might have gone into, and I found myself smiling again, thanks to his behaviour being as sweet as the drink he’d made. However, while I appreciated Oliver’s efforts on the caring front, I also couldn’t help but scoff at the situation. Never before had any man looked after me like Oliver was doing and as I sat there still shivering, I thought it a shame it took almost falling off a rock face, near hypothermia, and a chap’s remorse for me to experience it.
