Page 15 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
Then he turns to the car, a mangled mess at the front, and the drop into the water, and I’m wondering if he’s thinking the same as me. ‘That could have been worse,’ he says. ‘Thank God for well-made walls.’
He was thinking the same as me.
He stares at the water tumbling over the rocks, where I used to paddle in the summer in the cold water running off the mountain. For a moment it looks as if he’s somewhere else entirely.
Then he looks at the car. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get this sorted.’
‘No rush,’ I say. ‘Let’s get you checked over first.’ I point him in the direction of the Land Rover, his shoulders stooped, accepting the sock to hold to the cut on his head.
By the time Dad is ready to leave and I’ve got him into the car, Llew Griffiths is coming out of A and E.
‘Good to see you! Would you mind if I had a picture taken with you?’ the doctor is asking, patting Llew on the shoulder.
Llew obliges politely and the selfie is taken, followed by a handshake.
‘Good to meet you. And, again, I’m sorry for how things turned out.’
I frown. Clearly the doctor knows who Llew Griffiths is, even if I don’t. All I know is that he’s someone wanting to work with Dad on the farm. But there’s clearly more to this.
‘Just make sure you’re not on your own this evening, and if you’re concerned about anything, give us a call or get your wife to bring you back in.’
He nods to me. I wave a hand by explanation that I’m not his wife.
‘Really, my wife won’t be driving me anywhere,’ Llew says, clearly half joking and maybe half not.
‘Right,’ I say, nodding to Dad in the Land Rover,wearing a bobble hat I’ve brought for him, coat and scarf. ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’
‘I’d better get my stuff from the car and arrange to have it picked up. I’m sure they’ll get it fixed as soon as possible,’ he says. ‘Or find a replacement.’
‘Fine. Follow me.’
‘Keep up the painkillers. But you should be right as rain after a good night’s sleep,’ says the doctor.
At the car Dad and Llew Griffiths greet each other. Dad is weak, but nods a hello, while looking at me. I can’t work out what’s going on. But maybe that’s because Dad has been, and still is, really ill.Could have been so much worse.Llew’s words come back to haunt me.
In the car, I realize the rain has eased. I turn the heater on but it circulates dog hair around the interior. It’s like being inside the tube of a vacuum cleaner, so I turn it off again.
Dad is dozing and Llew is saying very little, probably shaken by his accident and what might have been.
As we approach the farm I slow right down. Dad wakes and sees the wreckage of the car. I pull up beside it. ‘Do you need a hand?’ I ask Llew.
‘I’ll just get my stuff together. Book into a hotel until I’ve sorted this.’
‘You won’t find much in town,’ Dad murmurs. ‘It’s not what it was once.’
‘Look, I feel bad for what happened, and it was partly my fault. You can stay here if you like. That’s okay, isn’t it, Dad?’
Dad nods cautiously, which is unlike him. I’m putting that down to the sepsis. ‘Of course,’ he says, and I’m sure he means it, even if he doesn’t sound it. Dad would always welcome anyone who needed a hand.
‘I don’t want to impose.’
‘Really, it’s not an imposition. There’s a spare room – I’ll make up the bed – and the heating is back on, so it’s warm. It’s no bother.’ I look sideways at Dad: he’ll be embarrassed that I know the oil ran out. ‘And once the two of you have had some rest you can tell me about your business plans to work together.’ I glance between them. ‘It’s a chance for us to have a good catch-up. You can tell me everything that’s going on, Dad.’ I smile. ‘Put my mind at rest before I have to go again.’
I see him look into the rear-view mirror at Llew.
‘You’re very kind but I’ll be fine.’ Llew pushes open the stiff back door, and as he does so, his legs nearly give way.
‘Whoa,’ I say, jumping out to help him. ‘That’s settled. You’ll stay with us. The doctor says you shouldn’t be on your own tonight and, by the sound of it, your wife isn’t coming to collect you.’
