Page 48 of One More Day
‘For once I was managing to forget all my sadness,’ I say out loud to George, pushing along the bike, even though I know by now the culprit has forgotten any part he had to play in my fall. He’s much more interested in sniffing out his way home. ‘I was lost in another place, somewhere far away from all my troubles and from the pain I caused so many others. I was finally,finallyfeeling just a tiny bit of solace amongst the madness, but no, Rose. No, you aren’t getting away that lightly. You need to suffer just a little bit more. In fact, let’s give you a bruised hip and two grazed knees just to remindyou that you’re not out of the woods yet when it comes to your purgatory.’
‘Are you talking to George or to me?’
I jump.
This is all I need. Charlie has obviously just arrived back at the cottage seconds before me and I didn’t even see him by his car as I pushed the bicycle past him.
‘I’m talking to myself, don’t mind me at all,’ I reply, with more than a hint of bitterness in my tone. ‘No point trying to talk to anyone else around here, is there?’
‘Wait a minute, Rose. Are you OK? What happened?’
I stop and lean on the handlebars for support. I’m so, so glad to get back here at last.
‘I fell off the bike in the forest. No big deal.’
I wipe a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, doing my best not to sob as I speak. I’m thankful it’s dark and hopeful that Charlie won’t notice my tears of self-pity.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’
I see how he bites his lip. He smirks a little.
‘Don’t you dare laugh,’ I say, feeling a rush of anger as I sense his eyes on my legs. ‘You look like you’re going to laugh, Charlie, but it’s not funny.’
‘I’m not.’
‘I hurt both my knees and my hip is throbbing.’
Charlie holds his hands up.
‘I’m not laughing!’ he says in earnest. ‘Here, let me take the bike. You go inside and get warmed up. You’re soaked through.’
I hand over the bicycle and limp indoors, passing the hot tub on my way. I was really looking forward to spending an evening under the stars now that the snow has stopped falling at least for a little while.
I make my way to the living room where there are no traces of Charlie’s bedroom arrangement for tonight apart from a pillow and a duvet which is neatly folded in the corner on top of a wicker basket. I plunge down onto the settee and try to straighten out my knees but they sting so badly. The sensation brings me right back to my early days when I had a similar tumble off a bicycle and my mother told me I was much braver than my older sister, who always screamed from the rooftops if she’d as much as a paper cut to deal with.
I lean down and begin to roll up my leggings, one leg at a time, wincing as I pull the material up from where my skin is grazed.
‘Can I help?’
Charlie stands over me, already equipped with a small red first aid box in hand.
‘I don’t think it’s as bad as I … oh, it’s not pretty, is it?’
‘It looks sore for sure.’
My knees are scorched with glaring red stripes dotted with gravel and mud, and they look a lot nastier than I’d thought, which almost takes my breath away. I never was good with blood and cuts, no matter how brave Mum says I was.
Charlie bends down on his knees on the tiles and opens the plastic box, then takes out bandages, scissors, cream, tape and some disinfectant wipes.
‘Good old Marion,’ he says, as I sit there wondering if he is going to let me get on with this myself at any stage. ‘I found this kit under the sink just now. It has everything you need.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ I say, looking down at his mop of hair as he cuts the bandage to size. ‘If you want to just give me that, I can take care of it myself.’
He doesn’t seem to have heard me, or else he’s choosing to ignore my independence.
‘Now, this will sting a little but it’s so important to get it cleaned,’ he says, taking a wipe in his hand. ‘You ready?’
I don’t think I can speak.
