Page 70 of Sisters Making Mischief
Eugénie’s interest peaked. ‘And you have pulled a muscle? What were you doing? Back problems have plagued me all my life. You can ask me anything. It was the potatoes at first when I was younger. Hours spent in the fields, you young people have no idea what hard work can be. I was underneath a doctor for weeks. Months. Crying with the pain, unable to lift a spoon. But you’re not as bad as I was, I can tell.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, ‘just a tweak.’
‘Even so, you will need an operation, I know all about this. I expect you will be in a plaster cast from your neck to your knees, if there is no paralysis. I had a friend with back problems, by the time she was eighty-three she was in a wheelchair. Perhaps the good doctor here can advise you? His prescription tea worked a miracle with me. Eight whole hours I slept, it took me two days, but it is better than I am used to.’
‘I think just some simple painkillers and rest,’ Luc said, ‘and no one is to upset you.’
‘Then I will pray to Saint Gemma Galgani, who is the patron saint of back injuries,’ Eugénie said kindly, ‘and I will mention it to the priest when I see him. He is a great prayer, much better than the new curate. Père Phillippe knows what he is doing. Well, after fifty years, he should.’
‘I’d appreciate it,’ I said.
‘But tell me what happened,’ Isabel said.
Luc made a move towards the door.
‘I will unload your plants and put them in the greenhouse,’ he said, ‘and then I will leave you to it. Perhaps a good book to read, in a comfortable chair. And no lifting heavy objects in future.’
He gave me a twinkling smile and just for a moment rested one hand on my shoulder.
Like some silly teenager, I imagined I could feel that slight pressure for a long time afterwards.
I spent the next half hour going over the morning’s events and was rewarded by sympathetic and enthusiastic wincing and tutting from Eugénie, and dire warnings not to be so stupid in future from Isabel.
After a while I decided I really did need to go to my room and change into some clean, dry clothes, only to realise that I wasn’t going to be able to get up two flights of stairs in less than an hour.
‘No problem at all,’ Isabel said, ‘I said I needed someone to test out the shepherd’s hut, so we will put you in there while you recover. There’s everything you need in there, and I will bringclothes and toiletries down from your bedroom for you. It’s the perfect solution.’
In a day that had been filled with disappointment, failure and pain, this sounded like a fantastic idea, and so Isabel helped me limp out to the shepherd’s hut, where I sat in a chair that was exactly right. Not too low so that getting out of it would be a problem, and not too soft, so that my sore back had some support.
‘I’ll go and get your things. Stay there,’ she said.
‘I don’t really have much option,’ I replied, and she laughed.
‘I’ll bring your laptop out too so you can check if the broadband speed is okay.’
Eugénie came and looked inside and sniffed her disapproval.
‘I would not like to beabandonéein pain and suffering in a shed,’ she said, ‘although my parents knew someone who had to live in a barn when their house was bombed in the war. No heating, no running water, nothing. The only good thing was the Allied soldiers. The British brought food parcels and the Americans brought chocolate and nylon stockings. So not all bad, I suppose. Their daughter, Giselle, married one of them and went to live in Oklahoma. I watched that film several times, but I didn’t see her at all.’
‘Here we are,’ Isabel said cheerfully, her arms filled with some of my belongings, ‘let me have your muddy things when you are ready, and I’ll wash them.Mamie, when I was upstairs I saw the postal van outside your house, are you expecting anything?’
‘Vitamins, toilet rolls andbandages de soutien,’ Eugénie said, buttoning up her coat with excited fingers, ‘I buy them offl’internet.’
I raised a questioning eyebrow at Isabel.
‘Support bandages,’ she murmured.
I changed into some clean clothes with a lot of wincing and complaining, and then settled myself into the chair again. Looking around, I was pleased with what I saw. The hut was small but well designed and looked very attractive with all the things Isabel and I had put into it. The kitchen was just a small fridge, an electric hob and tiny oven. There was a sink, and a bathroom with a loo and a shower, which had been put into the space with considerable ingenuity. It was perfect.
Isabel left me with my laptop, a cafetière of coffee, biscuits, some painkillers and a hot water bottle to rest in the small of my back, and all things considered, I didn’t feel too bad.
But what was I going to do with myself, once the novelty of doing nothing in particular wore off? A couple of cars arrived at thebrocantebarn, and I could hear Isabel’s chatter and laughter in the distance. I wondered if she was selling anything, and wished I could be there with her to help. But perhaps I could help in a different way.
I opened up my laptop and started typing.
Isabel popped in to see me every few minutes at first, and then realising that actually nothing much was happening, and two paracetamol hadn’t instantly cured me, left me to it. So I spent a reasonably enjoyable afternoon on my laptop doing some research. At the back of my mind there had been a niggling thought that she was selling some of her treasures for far less than they were worth, and it didn’t take me long to find out I was right.
‘Look at this,’ I said when she came in with my dinner on a tray. The aroma of the beef casserole was wonderful, but I had information for her that was equally as tasty.
