‘Yes please.’ I’m pretty sure that I’m not a good hopper at all.
* * *
Hopping as your actual mode of transport rather than just a few hops while drunk or on the beach is extremely hard work. Personal trainers should recommend it for exercise. I’mexhaustedwithin only about ten hops. And ten hops don’t take you very far.
‘I might just have a break when we get to that tree,’ I pant. It’s like my left foot has cement on the end and my thigh isburning.
‘The big oak tree?’
‘No, the little thin red one.’
‘Oh, right in front of us. Got it.’
Thirteen excruciating hops later, we’re next to the little red tree. Honestly, I’m almost seeing stars from the hopping effort. When my vision clears, I look down at where I’m still holding on to Tom’s arm for balance and notice that, even through his shirt sleeves, you can tell that his forearm is very nicely muscled.
I think I really might be falling in lust with him, which can’t be good.
12
TOM
I’m spending a lot more time with Nadia than I bargained for today.
Obviously I knew that I was seeing her. And obviously I knew that I only knew two guests at the wedding. But I wasn’t really expectingthis.
To be spendingsomuch time beingclose.
You can’t help sticking with someone when they’re injured, though. Clearly, she needs someone to help her, and clearly, I am the only person who can be that someone, because she doesn’t know any other guest other than Carole who a) still isn’t entirely sober and b) will not benefit from being made to feel guilty, so we do need to continue to pretend that Nadia is basically fine.
So here I am, physically helping her.
I don’t like it. I don’t like how much I notice things about her when I hold her in my arms, or indeed when I’mnotholding her, just looking, or even not looking, just listening to her. Or breathing in her scent.
Right now she’s holding a tree with one hand and leaning on my arm with her other, and I am necessarily standing very close to her so that she won’t fall over.
Carole’s hovering nearby and you’d think that her presence would stop me being incredibly aware of the softness of Nadia’s skin, the rueful smile that she just shot at me, the line of her slim neck, but no.
I think we should just get this torture over and done with. I want to deposit her on a chair inside next to Carole and then go off to the bar and have a drink (or several) with some of the other very nice wedding guests that I met earlier.
‘Hopping seems pretty tricky,’ I say.
‘Trickier than I expected,’ Nadia agrees.
‘So I’m wondering whether maybe I should just carry you or give you a piggyback? Quickly. From here. Given that very few people – you would think – could hop up the steps, so you’ll need to be carried then anyway?’ I’m not sure why I’m making such a big deal of it; I’m making it sound a way more significant thing than it is. I should stop talking.
‘I’ll help.’ Carole’s words are a statement, rather than a suggestion. ‘We’ll link hands under Nadia’s bottom and she’ll put an arm round each of our necks.’
It’s very difficult not to laugh at Nadia’s open-eyed over-my-dead-body expression.
‘I get the feeling Nadia wants to get this over and done with as quickly as possible,’ I say. ‘Probably fastest if I just carry her myself.’
‘I insist that I help. Let’s go. Chair lift.’ Carole moves so that she’s next to Nadia’s right side and holds her arm out towards me.
‘Erm.’ I look between Carole and Nadia.
After several seconds, Nadia says, ‘Thank you,’ very miserably.
‘Okay, then.’ I transfer Nadia’s weight to my left arm while Carole and I are getting our arms locked into the chair position, and then we’re off.
