Free No Longer Safe by A J Waines Page B

maybe
they’ve gone out,’ I said, hoping they weren’t still in bed.
    He propped my leg on a stool and took a look at my ankle.
    ‘It doesn’t look swollen.’ He stripped off the sock and put
his palm against the sole of my foot. ‘Can you push against my hand?’
    No problem. He moved it gently side to side. ‘And this?’
    ‘Honestly – it doesn’t hurt.’
    ‘How long are you staying?’ he asked.
    ‘Until a week on Friday or Saturday, I think,’ I said. ‘Are
you a doctor?’
    ‘No – but my father is.’ He smiled warmly.
    I rolled down the leg of my jeans. ‘Listen, I don’t even
know your name.’
    ‘Stuart,’ he said, swinging the cap off his head and bending
forward into a ludicrous bow. ‘Stuart Wishart at your service, Madam.’
    I laughed. ‘I’m Alice Flemming.’ We shook hands in an
awkward fashion. I noticed his eyes lingering on my face and then felt my
cheeks heat up from the inside.
    He put his cap back on and adjusted it, then zipped up his
jacket, clipping the poppers into place.
    ‘Well – I’ll leave you to rest. Have you got painkillers?’
    ‘Yes – thank you.’
    ‘Right then…’ He slapped his pockets, seeming reluctant to
go.
    ‘You’ll come back, won’t you?’ I said, craning my neck as he
moved away. ‘I feel like I haven’t thanked you properly at all.’
    ‘Sure.’ He sent me a glowing smile that made me feel like
I’d been kissed – and left.
     
    ‘What happened to you?’ said Mark, creeping towards
me shortly afterwards, as though afraid he might catch something. He was
holding his mobile.
    ‘Hurt my ankle – that’s all. I’m fine.’
    ‘You need a stiff brandy. Have we got any?’
    ‘No, I don’t and no, we haven’t,’ I said playfully.
    ‘Are you able to get a signal on your phone?’ he asked,
serious for once. His phone had been glued to his hand since he arrived.
    ‘You have to go down the track to get any reception. Even
then, if the weather’s bad, it doesn’t work. I’ve tried to ring home, but I
haven’t been able to reach them yet.’
    ‘Bloody nuisance,’ he said.
    I heard the putter of Karen’s car and Mark helped me to my
feet. She came in with Melanie asleep in her arms. ‘False alarm,’ she
whispered.
    ‘Thank God,’ I whispered back, squeezing Karen’s arm.
    Melanie gurgled and Karen took her straight upstairs.
‘Freezing out there…’
    Karen settled Melanie in the cot and joined us by the fire.
‘She’s had another thorough check over and it turns out she’s got a slight throat
infection, but it’s nothing serious.’ She sank back into the cushion that had
erupted earlier. ‘I’m knackered – waiting around in hospital is such a trial.’
    I moved over to sit beside her and she noticed my limp.
    ‘It’s nothing – just slipped in the snow,’ I said.
    She looked at her hands, as if trying to figure out what to
say next and, for a second, I had an edgy feeling that she was playing a
character on stage and that none of this was real.
    She rubbed my back and I made the thought go away.
    Mark cracked open a can of lager and pushed a Pink CD into
the player. He put his feet up on the rocking chair, his trainers dripping
pools of slush from standing on the back step to smoke his latest cigarette. I
reached over to turn the music down. ‘Melanie’s asleep,’ I said.
    Karen barely seemed to register; she was resting her elbow
on the arm of the sofa, watching the fire.
    ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he grunted. I hobbled over to the pile of
newspaper by the hearth, beckoned to him to lift up his trainers and slipped a
sheet underneath to soak up the mess. ‘You’ve turned into a proper bossy
boots,’ he said sniggering, but nevertheless he leant forward to unlace them
and left them on the tiles.
    ‘I’ll make some tea,’ I said, as Karen went upstairs again.
As I brought in the pot, Mark looked like he’d fallen asleep. Echoey voices
came through the monitor on the sideboard.
    ‘…I know – you were a