Page 130 of The Winter of Second Chances
Mark finished checking John over. He bandaged a couple of the nastier gashes on his legs and put a butterfly stitch on a cut on his head. After taking his blood pressure, pulse and shining a pen-torch in his eyes, Mark declared that John had been very lucky indeed.
‘I’d like you to come in too and get a doctor to give you the once over,’ said Mark.
‘Do I have to?’ asked John.
‘No, you don’t have to. We advise it just in case. You could be concussed. But ultimately it’s your choice.’
‘I’d rather not,’ said John. ‘I’m not an emergency and I don’t fancy sitting in an A&E waiting room for hours just to be told I can go home and rest. No offence.’
‘None taken,’ said Mark. ‘I wouldn’t want to be waiting around either. Have you got someone at home? Or anyone that can stay with you tonight? I would feel happier knowing you have help at hand should you need it.’
‘He can stay here,’ said Annie. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’
‘I don’t need a babysitter,’ John protested.
‘Don’t argue with me. You’re staying here,’ said Annie.
Mark went back to the ambulance to get a stretcher and John and Annie followed him up the stairs, Annie walking behind to steady John if he needed it.
‘I’m not wearing any trousers,’ said John when they reached the cafe door.
‘Worried the sight of your legs will be too much for the book club?’ asked Annie. She looked down at the marks left on the wooden floor by his wet socks. ‘I think you need to take those socks off. You’ll get trench foot.’
‘You seem determined to get me naked.’
‘When you’re my age and single you’ve got to get your kicks when you can.’
John chuckled.
‘Far be it for me to deny you your kicks, Ms Sharpe,’ he said, reaching down – foil blanket crinkling – to remove his socks. ‘Satisfied?’
‘It’ll do for a start,’ said Annie. ‘Come on then wet-pants, let’s put your fans’ minds at rest.’
For several minutes John was swamped by women. Gemma clucked about him like a mother hen, while Maeve forced another cup of strong tea with two upon him.
‘You look like you’ve just run a marathon,’ said Sally.
‘I feel like it too.’ John tried to laugh but erupted into another fit of coughing, which saw Gemma’s clucking go into overdrive.
It was warm in the cafe and Annie was pleased to note John’s shivering beginning to subside a little. Then Georgina and Mark came carefully into the cafe with Alfred strapped onto the stretcher they held between them, and everything went quiet. Alfred’s eyes were closed but they fluttered open as a little gasp escaped Gemma’s lips.
‘Thank you, John,’ he croaked.
‘Anytime,’ said John. He turned to Annie. ‘I’m going to follow him up in the car,’ he said.
‘You most certainly are not, young man,’ said Maeve, flinging off her blanket. ‘Half dressed and half drowned, you look an absolute fright! You stay here, my lad, and get some rest. I’ll be accompanying Alfred to the hospital. Margate, I presume?’ she asked Georgina, who nodded.
‘Don’t fuss, woman,’ wheezed Alfred, before closing his eyes again.
‘When have you ever known me to fuss, you crotchety old bugger?’ Maeve retorted. ‘I’m only coming to make sure they don’t accidentally mistake you for a sasquatch.’
Alfred’s lips twitched into a smile.
‘Could murder one of your bacon sandwiches,’ he whispered.
‘Behave yourself and I’ll see what I can do,’ said Maeve.
Annie stood by the door and waved until Sally’s car, with Gemma in the passenger seat, rounded the bend. The rain had mercifully stopped but the cold wind still howled as though anguished and the ocean thundered in response.
