The Man I Fell In Love With. Field Kate

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       Chapter 6

      A few years ago I set up an informal ‘meals on wheels’ service for the older residents of the village, so early the next week, when I was left with an extra meal at lunchtime, I dropped in at Audrey’s house to see if she wanted it.

      ‘Audrey!’ I called, as I pushed open the door with my shoulder, balancing the plate of food in my hands. ‘It’s only me! One of the old dears went out shopping and forgot I was coming, so I have …’

      The plate fell to the ground, bouncing on the lino and sending vegetables rolling. Audrey was lying on the floor, half in the kitchen, half in the hall. She was wearing her pyjamas and slippers; a mug lay on its side on the hall carpet beyond Audrey’s head, surrounded by a brown stain; there was another stain on the kitchen lino, spreading from beneath Audrey’s legs. The smell of rich morning urine filled the room.

      ‘Don’t come in, Mary.’ Audrey’s voice was faint, weakened by fear. A sheen of sweat shimmered on her face, around eyes that were enormous and terrified. Audrey, my lovely, lively Audrey, looked as if every second of her sixty-five years had stamped their mark on her all at once, adding ten more years for good measure.

      ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, stepping over some stray broccoli, and kneeling at her side. Her left arm was tucked underneath her at an awkward angle. I took her right hand, rubbing it between mine, trying to add warmth. ‘How long have you been here? Since breakfast?’

      ‘I tripped over the door plate …’

      The door plate between the kitchen and the hall had been loose for months. I had told Leo before Christmas, and he had promised to fix it – but as usual, I hadn’t wanted to nag. Why hadn’t I pressed him? Why hadn’t I fixed it myself? Was it because somewhere in my head, I hadn’t accepted that this post-Leo world was real?

      ‘Where are you hurt? Can you tell?’

      ‘My arm. Mainly my wrist. I can’t lean on it to get up.’

      ‘Don’t try. I’m calling an ambulance.’

      I started to stand, but Audrey clutched my arm. Her grasp was as feeble as a child’s.

      ‘No. I can’t go in an ambulance like this.’

      I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. I ran upstairs to her bedroom and picked out a fresh pair of knickers and pyjamas. It was an effort to put them on, as I feared exacerbating injuries or causing Audrey pain; she closed her eyes when I inched down her knickers, and I stopped, terrified I might be damaging a broken hip, but she insisted I carry on. It never occurred to me to be embarrassed. I would walk on hot coals rather than undress my own mum, but this was Audrey. Nothing was too much for her.

      I couldn’t change her pyjama top, as I couldn’t risk disturbing her arm.

      ‘I don’t match!’ she said, with a hint of her normal self.

      ‘I don’t expect the paramedics will mind,’ I replied, putting down the phone after calling for an ambulance. ‘We’ll tell them that it’s the latest fashion: mismatched pyjamas as daywear. In fact, if I’m quick, I could go and put on some random nightwear too, to establish the trend.’

      That raised a weak smile, which was better than nothing, and while we waited for the ambulance I followed Audrey’s instructions and washed her face, applied lipstick, and spritzed her with perfume. I tried ringing Leo, but he was on voicemail, so I left a message. Then all I could do was wait.

      We seemed to spend hours in A&E, but at least when Audrey was finally seen, the news wasn’t as bad as it might have been. Audrey had suffered a Colles fracture, which meant that she’d broken the bone in her left arm just above the wrist. It was a clean break, and didn’t need surgery, but she would be in a plaster cast for up to six weeks, and she could have residual stiffness for up to a year. For a fiercely independent woman, who was prone to think herself half her actual age, it was hard to accept, and I turned my back, pretending to read a poster while Audrey shed some discreet tears.

      ‘Has Leo not telephoned?’ she asked, while we waited for confirmation that she could go home.

      ‘Not yet. I’ve left a couple of messages.’

      ‘What about Ethan? Have you let him know that I’m fine? I would hate for him to be anxious.’