Page 5 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

Chapter 2

Freya was lucky to have found a parking space, and she drove the rental car into an empty bay just seconds ahead of another driver, who had spotted it at the same time as she had. In no mood for the sour look the driver gave her, she switched off the engine and leant her head against the back of the seat.

She was exhausted and close to tears. A fall, the hospital had said. Being transferred to Raigmore Hospital in Inverness, they’d said. He needed an operation, they’d said.

It’s what theyhadn’tsaid that concerned Freya. Skye’s Broadford Hospital had an Accident and Emergency department which was perfectly adequate for minor injuries. But her father had been taken to the hospital in Inverness instead, which told her that his fall was definitely something to worry about, so she had thrown some clothes and toiletries into a suitcase and dashed to the airport. Flying was the fastest way to get to Inverness from London.

She had repeatedly phoned her dad on his mobile but hadn’t been able to get an answer. While she’d waited for her flight to be called, she’d paced up and down, hoping to be connected to someone in Raigmore Hospital who could tell her what was going on, but all they’d been prepared to say was that he was out of surgery and was comfortable.

Gathering herself, Freya climbed out of the car and headed for the main entrance, and as she walked through the doors, she was hit with the same feeling of dread and grief that she’d had the first time she’d visited her mother in hospital. That feeling had never gone away, and just the sight of those clinical corridors was enough to make her stomach churn and her heart race.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she went in search of the lifts.He’ll be OK, he’ll be OK, she chanted silently.

She’d been saying the same thing over and over, all the way from London, but she hadn’t managed to convince herself yet. The only way she would be convinced was by seeing him.

It took her a while to locate the correct ward, and when she did, she found her dad in a bed near the window. His eyes were closed, and she took a moment to compose herself. He looked grey and drawn, his hair whiter than the last time she’d seen him, his cheeks more lined. He had a drip in his left hand.

She would find someone to give her an update of his condition, then she’d sit with him until they threw her out.

‘Are you a relative?’ a nurse enquired when Freya asked for information.

‘I’m his daughter. Broadford rang me this morning to say he’d had a fall and was being transferred here because he needed an operation. They told me he’d broken his hip.’ Dad was seventy-four, and she was aware that fractured hips were more common the older you got. But surely he wasn’tthatold? ‘How did it happen, do you know?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure.’ The nurse touched her lightly on the arm. ‘He’s doing OK; try not to worry. I expect you’ve got loads of questions, but it’s best to ask the doctor when she does her rounds in the morning. You should be able to catch her between nine and ten o’clock.’

‘Right. Thanks. I’ll… um…’ Freya pointed to the ward, smiled uncertainly, then went back to sit with her sleeping father.

‘I told them not to bother you.’

Freya jerked up at the sound of her father’s creaky voice, wincing when her neck went into a spasm at the sudden movement. Scrambling to her feet, she leant over him.

‘Dad,’ she murmured, relieved to see him awake and looking more like his old self. Some of the colour had returned to his face and his cheeks didn’t look as sunken. ‘I’m glad they did.’

‘What day is it?’

It took Freya a moment to remember. Was it only yesterday evening that she’d been feted at her own exhibition? It seemed like weeks ago. ‘Thursday.’

He licked his lips, his eyes drifting shut once more, and she wondered whether she should call anyone. ‘Wait there, Dad. I’ll go find someone.’

He opened an eye. ‘Hen, I’m not going anywhere. Did they tell you I’ve fractured my hip? What a silly billy, eh?’

She shook her head. ‘How did it happen?’

‘Och, you know. Lost my balance.’ He swallowed. ‘Is there any water?’

There was a plastic jug on a table next to the bed and as Freya picked it up, he grasped her hand and she was alarmed at how weak his grip was.

‘And painkillers,’ he said, discomfort etched on his face.

When she returned to tell him that a nurse would be along shortly with some tablets, he appeared to be asleep, but he opened his eyes when she touched his arm.

After the nurse had given him his pills, Freya sat with him for a while, watching him sleep, but when he stirred, she said, ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll be back in the morning. I want to be here when the doctor does her rounds.’

Panic flared in his eyes and she guessed the reason. ‘I can’t stay much longer,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got to find a bed for the night.’ Hoping to lighten his mood, she added, ‘It’s all right for you, you’ve got somewhere to sleep.’

To her dismay, his eyes filled with tears and guilt engulfed her. This wasn’t the time for levity. Her poor dad had been through an ordeal, and all she could do wasjokeabout it?

‘I’m sorry, Dad, that was insensitive.’ She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, holding back tears.

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