Falling For You (18 page)

‘You trust me, don’t you?’

She nods.  Poor girl, she has no option, does she? Best to keep her mind off things, keep talking to her so she doesn’t have time to worry about the fact that she’s stuck in a ruin with a complete stranger. A stranger who’s about to sew up a wound and she’s sitting here frozen and hurt and with no jeans on
.

‘Okay, Rose? Just a little sharp jab as the anaesthetics go in …’

‘
Ouch
.’

‘Sorry.’ Her face puckers up a bit. I know it hurts but I’ve got a hunch there’s a lot more going on for this girl right now than just the discomfort - and indignity - of having me stitch up her wound. I’d better keep her talking, I guess. 

‘So - those medicines you mentioned you came up here to pick up, were they for
you
, Rose?’ I glance at her to see how she’s doing and she’s staring hard at the fire, avoiding looking down at her leg at all. Avoiding looking at me.

It’s none of my business, I know. If she came up here because she was running away from home for whatever reason she’s not likely  to tell me the truth of it now, is she? If she is on some sort of medication it might be important that I know it, however. I would have ascertained that earlier, if I’d been thinking straight. She doesn’t answer, just glances down at her leg and then rapidly away again. I’ve got a squeamish one here, all right.

‘I’ll do a neat job for you, I promise,’ I tell her softly. ‘I’m pretty good at sewing, Rose. Quite handy for a boy.’ That elicits a small smile and she looks up at me for a split second, her pretty eyes meeting mine. Are they green, I wonder? Maybe blue?

‘Were the meds for you?’ I persist gently.

‘The meds were for my dad,’ she looks puzzled now. ‘You brought them up here, didn’t you? We spoke, on the phone, remember? This morning.’

‘We’ve never spoken before, Rose.’

‘Oh.’ She looks confused. ‘I thought you were the …Well,’ she shrugs, ‘I spoke to the locum. I thought he said he was the one who’d be dropping them off himself?’ Her eyes narrow curiously now. ‘Who are you - some sort of paramedic then?’

I nod.

‘And I guess you got the short straw and - they sent you instead?’ She glances at me, wincing. She seems convinced
I’m
up here on a legitimate mission anyway - I’m the one who dropped off her Dad’s tablets for her. Apparently.

 ‘How much longer?’ she asks through gritted teeth.

‘The anaesthetics are all in now.’ I’m pretty pleased with myself, at how it’s going. A few minutes ago my hands were trembling, they were so cold when I was making up that fire but now that I’m working my hands are steady as a rock.  Her leg will be numb soon. She’ll only feel a little tugging on her skin as I pull the thread up.

‘So these meds,’ I press. ‘A matter of life …?’

She pulls a face at that, realising that I’m chiding her gently for coming up here. If they weren’t urgent, she shouldn’t be here and she knows that.

‘It’s just that I couldn’t help notice you’ve packed quite a bit of stuff in your backpack. Were you planning on going straight home?’ 

‘Um …’ she looks at me sheepishly. ‘I know I packed up some clothes and all but that was just for show. I wasn’t really going to go on to Shona’s
.
’
S
he’s sounding a little embarrassed. ‘There was a … a bit of a family argument over something. When I left the house I was feeling mad at everyone.’

‘You just wanted the family to think you were staying away tonight?’ I hide the smile in my voice, concentrate on my task.
Families at Christmas, eh?

‘I
was
going to go back home, Lawrence’ she assures me. ‘Once I’d got the medicines and I’d calmed down. Family can make you feel so mad sometimes, can’t they?’ she turns to me now entreatingly. ‘I can take the flak from more distant relatives like my aunt Carlotta,’ she adds unexpectedly, ‘but my dad - you’d think he’d know me better, wouldn’t you?’

‘One would hope so
.
’ I pull at the first stitch and snip off the thread. One down.

‘I get all the responsibility for doing everything at home, you know?’ She draws in her shoulders despondently and I discreetly concentrate on my task. Injured people often open up to you when you’re ministering to them. It doesn’t do to pay them too much mind. I’m sure half the time they don’t even realise they’re doing it, it’s just a reaction to the shock. Whatever was on their mind before the accident, it all comes spilling out.
The second stitch is in now. Even in this light, I have to say, I’m pleased at how this is going.

‘My dad relies on me a lot. All the time in fact,’ my companion continues. ‘The rest of the family are never even around. And then when they do come along, my aunt feels it’s acceptable to have pop at Mum. So I had a go back.’

‘Fair do’s’ I murmur.

‘But that isn’t the worst bit,’ she splutters. ‘The worst bit is that my dad defended her. He knew she was in the wrong. I could see it on his face. So why did he side with Carlotta?’

Why indeed?

‘He probably felt he had to,’ I console. ‘Generational thing, isn’t it? They side with each other.’ I give her a conspiratorial grin.

She frowns as I tug at the second stitch, finishing it off, pulling the skin together neatly. This is going to heal up beautifully in time.  She’s got her hands under her knees and her fists clenched.

‘Well it maddens me that he won’t defend Mum more than he does. When they come up with those mean-spirited comments then he should.’

‘Mum not around to defend herself?’ I offer gently. I see these kind of family dynamics all the time.

‘Mum’s dead,’ she says in a deadpan tone. ‘She died when I was thirteen.’

‘I’m sorry, Rose.’ I really am sorry. Rose has been coping so beautifully all this time and now there are these huge tears welling in her eyes. I think, even with her best effort of will, she’s not going to be able to stop them.

‘You miss your mum?’ I put in the third stitch. My patient has a stoic look on her face now.

‘The truth is …’ she says quietly, ‘I both miss her and sometimes … I feel mad at her at the same time.’

 ‘Feelings are complicated things, eh?’ I give her a wry grin.

‘I feel mad at her because I find myself having to defend her all the time
.
’ Rose has started picking at the fluff on her jumper sleeve. I recognise the signs. She’s just fiercely wiped the tears off her face and they’ve dried up immediately. I’m impressed. I adjust the torch a little, settle a bit closer in to my work.

‘Defend her for ...?’

‘For being who she was. For having the beliefs that she did. My mum was a pagan, Lawrence
.
’ Rose gives me a little sideways glance. ‘A hedgewitch, if you like; she could be a bit of an eco-warrior, too,Not everyone in my family went along with that.’

‘No?’ I say neutrally. There used to be a whole campful of New Age types living in the area at one time, I recall. It takes all sorts …

‘No. Especially when she went off and spent months living in an underground burrow under the Topwoods.’ She glances at me, checking out my reaction. ‘We
all
objected to that. But whatever anyone’s beliefs, it really bugs me when they make comments. Because she was a good person. However she chose to live her life – that was her business and ours. Not theirs. Why should they judge her?’

I catch Rose’s eye but she looks away from me quickly.

‘I’m sorry, Lawrence,’ she gives an apologetic little laugh. ‘We’ve only just met and here I am, unburdening my whole life story onto you. I didn’t mean to. In fact,’ she sounds embarrassed. ‘I can’t believe I said all that. It’s not stuff I’d normally …’

‘People often become talkative when they’ve experienced a trauma,’ I tell her. ‘Even the quiet ones.’

‘Do they?’ She sighs. ‘I suppose you’re used to it then.’

‘It pays to develop a professional amnesia
.
’ I wink at her. ‘I promise you by tomorrow I won’t recall a word of what you’re telling me …’ 

‘It’s just been a bit of a crap Christmas Day, you know?
Everything
has gone wrong.’

 ‘Not everything,’ I remind her. ‘I found you. You could still be out there in the snow right now, freezing to death.’

 ‘Except for that,’ she concedes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve … you’ve really been my guardian angel, haven’t you?’

I flash her a small smile and she looks away, shy.

‘All part of the service,’ I say softly. I swab at the skin around the wound with some antiseptic cotton balls now. The blood comes off cleanly and evenly.

‘I miss my mum too,’ I confide before I can stop myself. ‘I haven’t seen her in a very long while. Only - my
m
um isn’t dead.’

 ‘Oh.’ She looks at me as if that surprises her. ‘Well you should put that right, Lawrence.’

‘I should.’

I snip off the last stitch, carefully place a padded dressing over the suture. Then I stand up. ‘We’re done with these, I think. That didn’t hurt, did it?’ I know it didn’t hurt. There’s something else that’s hurting you far more than the wound in your leg right now isn’t there, girl?

Then I add something that I normally wouldn’t.

‘Rose, this pickle that you’re in …’ I keep my eyes carefully on my bag, putting away my bits and pieces, while she pulls on some trackie bottoms she’s retrieved from her backpack.  ‘Does it involve a member of the opposite sex, by any chance?’ I might be reaching, here, but I’ve been around long enough to recognise most scenarios. Is this really all about her mum? There’s been an argument at home. She’s upset and she’s sad and she’s desperate enough to have packed up a bag to leave home. I’m thinking, if she’s pregnant, that’d make a lot of sense, join up a lot of dots. Could it really be the morning-after pill she’s risked coming up all this way to fetch, not something for
d
ad, after all?

Rose quietens for a bit, looks at me wonderingly; whether that’s because I’ve just stumbled on her secret or not, I don’t know, but then she laughs.

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she says. ‘But since you’re asking … no.’

‘It’s just that …’ I hesitate, aware that I’m on precarious ground. ‘If you were in a … in a difficult situation, so to speak, you might want to try talking it over with someone before you …’

‘No!’ she comes back stronger. ‘No, Lawrence. I’m sorry, but you’re making assumptions and you shouldn’t.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s none of my business, is it?’ It isn’t. I don’t know if I believe her ‘
chance would be a fine thing’
story. A girl like her wouldn’t lack the chance, would she? Maybe she doesn’t want to go there and fair enough, I shouldn’t have asked her.