Page 101 of Off the Pitch

He kept scratching at his leg, which I supposed was understandable, but I wanted to smack his hand away every time he did it like he was some sort of naughty dog. He’d changed into a pair of dark jeans before we’d left, shoving the worn jogging bottoms that he’d been wearing into the stylish leather bag he carried. They must have made him feel a lot more like himself because he’d had a huge smile on his face as soon as he’d reappeared from the disabled toilet he’d gotten changed in.

Now we were sitting in a taxi weaving our way through London traffic.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Hugo asked, poking my arm.

“Nope.”

“How about now?”

“Still nope.” I grinned.

“You know I’m just going to keep asking,” he said with a laugh.

“You’ll see soon enough… and stop scratching!”

“But it itches,” he whined, giving me puppy dog eyes. “I just want to get rid of it.”

“Would you like to go home and wash it?” I asked, suddenly worried that this was a bad idea. I should have realised that he’d probably rather deal with his leg than spend the day hobbling around with me. I’d spent a lot of time last night reading up on cast removal and watching several YouTube videos, including a rather handy one made by an NHS trust, but I’d not considered how it might affect our plans. I’d just wanted to make Hugo happy.

“No,” he said, giving me a warm smile. “I’d rather go out and do something. I’ve been indoors for two months. I need to get out.”

“Well that’s good,” I said as the taxi began slowing and pulling up to the curb. “Because we’re here.”

I’d brought us to Hyde Park in the centre of London. It was one of my absolute favourite places in the whole of the city and spending the rest of the day here in the sunshine would be the perfect antidote to Hugo’s pent up frustration.

“Ta-da!” I said, flourishing my hands and wiggling my fingers in my best impression of jazz hands. “Is this okay?”

Hugo beamed at me, tilting his face up to let the warm June sun wash over him. “It’s perfect.”

“Excellent! Then if you’ll follow me, I know the perfect place.” It wasn’t too far into the park, so Hugo wouldn’t have to go far. The doctor and the physiotherapist had both agreed that Hugo would probably need a walking aid for a few days, but the sooner he got used to not using it the better. They’d allowed him to have a single crutch, down from the pair he’d been using. His steps were a little wobbly and uneven, and I didn’t want to take him too far in case his leg hurt, even though we’d been told that walking would be good for him.

I ambled slowly alongside him as we made our way down the wide path, steering him gently until the sweet, perfumed scent of roses filled my nose. I took a deep breath, letting it relax me, and as we rounded the corner, I could see the beautiful beds of flowers laid out in front of us.

“Welcome to the rose garden,” I said. “I thought we could have a picnic and enjoy the sunshine since the weather is so nice today.”

“That sounds great.” Hugo gave me another of his wide, warm smiles that made something funny flutter in my chest. I couldn’t help but smile in return, practically giddy as I began to hunt for somewhere for us to sit.

“Are you okay on the grass? Or do you need me to find a bench?”

“Grass is fine,” Hugo said as he followed me slowly.

When I found the perfect spot, I opened my bag and pulled out the small blanket I’d tucked in there last night, spreading it across the grass. “Sorry it’s not a proper picnic blanket, but it was the best I could do at short notice.”

“I didn’t even expect a blanket,” Hugo said. He lowered himself carefully to the ground and stretched his leg out in front of him with a sigh, kicking off his trainers to wiggle his toes and gently turn his ankle, as if still enjoying the novelty of the sensation.

“My grandmother would kill me if I didn’t have one!” I laughed, folding down next to him. “Lightning would strike me down.”

“She sounds… interesting.”

“Mmm, yes, interesting is a good way to put it,” I said, shaking my head. I rummaged in my bag again, pulling out the various packets and tubs I’d sequestered in there this morning on my scouting mission to my local deli. They always opened early to sell sandwiches, coffee, and pastries to passing commuters and, occasionally, dinner-slash-breakfast to poor, starving artists such as myself.

“My grandmother was Scottish,” I continued. “And I used to spend every summer with her up in the highlands. It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world, and I adored every moment I spent there.” My voice trailed off as the memories flooded me—the touch of the sun on the moorlands, glinting off the river as it wound its way through the glen. The sheer wild, untamed beauty of it all, and in that moment my heart ached for it.

“Anyway, she was quite a stickler for propriety in many respects and that meant all picnics had to have blankets. Oh, and there always had to be cake too, otherwise it wasn’t a proper picnic. At least not in her eyes.”

“That sounds fun,” Hugo said. He was watching me closely, as if he was really listening to every word I was saying. But I wasn’t sure why, I mean I wasn’t that interesting to listen to. “When did you last go to Scotland?”

“About seven or eight years ago. It was the summer before she died. She’d been quite ill. I think she had cancer, although she never told me because she didn’t want to worry me. We spent the whole time in her garden… I just wanted to enjoy every moment I got with her because I already knew I wouldn’t be coming back.” I sighed, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. “As soon as she died my parents sold the house. They’d never really liked Scotland, and they’d both fallen out with her years ago. I think the only reason they let me go every year was because it was free childcare, and it meant they could spend their summers wherever they wanted. She was the one who left me my house. I got the feeling she’d only kept it so she could give it to me, since she hated London with a passion. I didn’t know until after she died… if I’d known I’d probably have told her I wasn’t worth it.” I paused, looking up at Hugo to see concern written across his face. “I’m sorry, I’m being terribly depressing, and we’re meant to be here celebrating.”

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