Page 17 of The Cornish Christmas Book Clu
‘Oh, my love, what on earth have you done to yourself?’
The sight of Becky’s white face pained him worse than the knee. Amazingly, in a village this small, they hadn’t bumped into each other since his misguided visit just over a week ago. Probably by design on her part. He couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat. Her over-the-top reaction wouldn’t go unnoticed and could bring trouble in its wake.
‘He fell and hurt his knee, but we knew what to do to help,’ Vernon said boastfully.
‘I’m getting my car, Becky, and taking him to see the doc.’
He couldn’t help thinking that Tamara would’ve made a good soldier. She’d assessed the situation and taken action. Questions could wait until later.
‘Tea, Mr Bull?’ Tamara’s sharp question presented as more of an order, and the man turned puce. Being told what to do in his own domain didn’t sit well.
He scuttled off and Tamara followed suit. By some sort of osmosis, the few customers scattered around the place and pretended to get on with their shopping. Whispered conversations drifted his way and Gage could only imagine the wild speculations being dreamed up.
‘If you’re being looked after, I’ll get on home,’ Becky muttered, still clutching her handbag to her chest.
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Honest.’
She blinked back tears and ducked her head in a brief nod, then couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Whatever shopping she’d come in for clearly wasn’t as important as making her escape without being plagued by questions.
‘Here you go.’ Vernon reappeared and thrust a mug in his hand. ‘If you’re all right, I need to get back to serving.’
‘Of course. Thanks.’ Heaven forbid an injured customer should hold up the wheels of commerce.
Gage winced as the sickly-sweet tea hit his tastebuds, but dutifully gulped it down. He’d caused enough trouble one way or another today.
* * *
Tamara stared unseeingly at the dog-eared magazine, a spring issue touting how to attain a beach-worthy body in four weeks. Calling someone ‘my love’ was a common expression in Cornwall, so it hadn’t been strange to hear Becky spontaneously call Gage that at the shop. But what did niggle her was Becky’s pale, frightened expression. It went far above the more normallevel of concern everyone else had shown for Gage, considering he was basically a stranger. In the car he didn’t say a single word. Of course he was in pain, so might not have felt up to talking, but she strongly suspected he’d taken refuge in that excuse to avoid answering any questions.
‘Good news.’ Judy appeared, smiling broadly.
Behind her, Gage limped stoically along, leaning heavily on the crutches.
‘He was lucky. He hasn’t wrecked the artificial knee or broken any bones around it. Some of the ligaments are sprained and there’s significant bruising. Painkillers. Rest.’ She nodded at him. ‘Use the crutches for a couple of weeks to keep weight-bearing to a minimum. No stairs, unless it’s unavoidable, and then only if someone is around to help. You’re generally a fit man, so I’d say within a month you’ll be back to normal.’
Frustration pulsed off him. The timing couldn’t be worse.
‘I’ll look out for him, Judy, and thanks for fitting us in.’
‘You’re welcome. Who needs a lunch break anyway?’ The doctor laughed.
Tamara liked Judy. They were about the same age and she got the impression the other woman was lonely too. Her position as the village doctor was isolating because it wasn’t easy to make friends with people who were also your patients. Once, she tentatively suggested that Judy might consider joining the book club, but the offer was turned down on the basis that her long, often unpredictable hours wouldn’t allow for it.
‘Come on, let’s get you home.’ Tamara was struck by the realisation that it wasn’t that simple. ‘You’ve moved your stuff into the shop flat, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ Gage sounded wary, as if it were a trick question.
Out in the car, she planted her hands on the steering wheel and turned to him. ‘You won’t be able to manage the stairs. Mysofa opens out to a double bed and I’ve got a downstairs loo, so you’d better come and stay with me.’
‘I couldn’t possibly—’
‘Do you have a better idea?’
His silence answered for him.
‘Didn’t think so.’
Gage glowered. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re pushy?’
