‘Okay.’ I smile at him, because I always think people seem more convincing when they’re smiling nonchalantly. ‘I’m guessing that it won’t really matter – even if itisbroken – if I justtreatit as though it’s broken but don’t go to A&E for a couple of hours longer.’
‘Thatisprobably true,’ James concedes.
‘So I’d like to stay for the reception but not walk and just do the karaoke and I’ll get a taxi to the train station here and one home at the other end.’
I look at James and smile nonchalantly again. ‘I really don’t want Bea and Ruth to know about this because I don’t want them to be upset or worried. And I don’t want Carole to know if it’s broken either because there’s no point her feeling bad and I know she would even though she shouldn’t.’
James nods. ‘In my capacity as a GP I would advise you to go now. But as a fellow wedding guest… I’d say if you actuallyaresensible, it probably can’t hurt to wait a few hours. I have bandages. We can ice it now and then I’ll strap it for you to support it. And please don’t put any weight on it. And don’t have any more alcohol.’
I tell him that he’s very strict and then promise to do everything he says. Then he goes off to get a bandage and painkillers and I put ice on my ankle while we’re waiting for him.
‘Nadia,’ we hear Carole calling just as James has gone out of sight. ‘I forgot where I’d last seen you and couldn’t find you. I’m so sorry. How are you feeling? I have your water.’ She hurries towards us and, as she approaches, lowers her volume. ‘I have to admit I was feeling a little sozzled but I’ve had several glasses of water myself and am quite sober now.’
When she reaches us, she sits down heavily on the end of the lounger, partially on my leg.
‘Carole!’ I squeak, inrealpain, as Tom hauls her off.
‘Why don’t you sit on this one?’ Tom pulls another lounger closer.
‘Good idea.’ Carole seems unaware that she’s just sent red-hot searing pain up my leg and through my entire body. ‘How are you feeling now, Nadia?’
I really can’t speak because I’m focusing very hard on not allowing the contents of my stomach to emerge. I’m never sick, I remind myself. I can do this.
I lean my head back against the lounger again and wait for my ankle to return to a more manageable level of throbbing pain.
Everything’s going far away and misty again, which to be honest I’m quite happy about, but apparently Tom isn’t keen for me to faint, because he’s speaking very close to my head again, saying, ‘Nadia, drink some water.’
I open my eyes and look straight into his. And blimey they’rebeautiful. Big and dark and fringed with lovely thick lashes, with gorgeous little I’ve-lived-some-life-and-am-no-longer-young-and-inexperienced crinkles at the sides, and right now they’re looking right into mine and are topped by a slightly furrowed, concerned-looking brow, and the whole effect is so heart-stoppingly gorgeous that for a moment the pain from my ankle recedes far into the distance.
‘You’d make a very good anaesthetic,’ I tell Tom foggily.
‘Oh.’ His eye-crinkles crinkle more and he laughs. ‘I’m going to take it as a good thing that you’re speaking and assume that you meant what you said and are not hallucinating. I’ll ignore the fact that it doesnotsound complimentary.’
‘No, no, it’s a big compliment,’ I tell him, still foggily. If I leant even a little bit forward now, and tilted my head just a little, our lips could meet and…
‘Okay, I will accept that weird compliment. Are you okay?’
I love the way the corners of his mouth lift when he’s semi-laughing as he speaks. He has very nice teeth too.
I open my mouth to say so and then realise that, no, that is not a normal thing to say to a friend.
‘I’m completely fine,’ I say, blatantly untruthfully.
‘I’m so glad to hear that.’ Carole pulls her lounger closer. She definitely seems soberer than she was before. ‘I was really worried that I’d caused you to injure yourself when you fell.’
‘No, no,’ I say. ‘And even if I had done something bad to myself it wouldn’t have been your fault; it was all me being clumsy and over-reacting to a tiny drop—’ it was adeluge‘—of champagne.’
‘Exactly,’ Tom agrees. I side-eye him. He didn’t need to soundsocertain that I was basically a complete muppet. He smiles at me and I melt a tiny bit more inside, which, now that I’m no longer feeling faint, I realise is not a good thing. Tom is in love with Lola. And I am not in the market for getting hurt by anyone again, especially not someone who is fast becoming a good friend. Unrequited love is not something I want to do.
‘Finally back.’ James has popped up wielding a black doctor’s bag, of the type that you would never expect a twenty-first-century doctor to actually own.
‘Inherited the bag from my father,’ he says, as he opens it and begins to rummage inside it. ‘He was a community GP, always out on visits. Right. Here we go.’
I’ve never seen anyone put a bandage on sobriskly. It’s genuinely not even that painful to have my ankle handled by him, and the more it’s strapped the more secure it feels.
‘You’regood,’ I tell him.
‘Why are you bandaging it?’ asks Carole. ‘I thought you said it was fine?’
