‘Great.’
He laughs cheerfully as we start to ascend the hill. He’s got long legs and thick-soled walking boots, so he’s able to cover the muddy ground quickly. His breathing becomes noisier and more laboured the closer we get to the top and I feel bad that I’m putting him through this. The swaying motion of his walk isn’t doing anything to settle my stomach either, and I have to swallow several times as my mouth starts to water ominously.
‘Right, we’re here,’ he says, letting me slither gently to the ground. As soon as I’m standing on my good foot, I turn and vomit into the dirt.
‘I smell that bad, huh?’
I’m a mortified, trembling mess. My good leg wobbles and Aiden holds me firmly upright while I fumble in my pockets for a tissue. ‘No,’ I say, eventually. ‘It’s the pain.’
There are black spots at the corners of my vision, and I feel weak and light-headed. I’m only dimly aware of our surroundings – the square courtyard, the large, white farmhouse, the blue sky overhead, the red pick-up truck – but they’re all spinning. Aiden swears softly as he struggles to hold me up while opening his truck door, then he lifts me up and onto the cracked black leather seat inside. The door slams, then he’s sitting beside me and the truck’s rumbling out of the yard.
‘I’m sorry,’ I keep repeating, my eyes tight shut.
‘Don’t be sorry. Tell me if you need to be sick again and I’ll pull over.’ He changes gear and the truck shudders. ‘Sorry about the truck. It belongs to the farmer, Bill. He lets me borrow it whenever I need to. I don’t really like driving her because she’s such an old wreck and I can just imagine the amount of pollutants coming out of her exhaust.’
I can’t answer him. My mouth is clamped shut and all I can do is murmur slightly. Every bump the truck encounters judders through me. Aiden keeps talking, and even though I don’t listen to the words he says, his deep, soft lilting voice is soothing. After what seems like hours but is probably only minutes, we reach the hospital and Aiden parks the truck. I start to tell him that I don’t want to be here, I want to go home, but he doesn’t listen and instead gets out and opens my door. ‘Come on,’ he says, scooping me into his arms. ‘Let’s get you sorted.’ He shuts the door with his shoulder and then he’s striding across the car park to the accident and emergency department.
Some kind of miracle has occurred and the waiting room is almost empty. There’s only me and a boy of about 12 holding a compress to his swollen eye. I give the receptionist my details and Aiden and I sit together in the waiting room. We’ve been sitting there for at least five minutes before I realise I’m holding his hand. I stare down at our entwined fingers, wondering how and when it happened. His thumb moves steadily back and forth against the back of my hand and I’m amazed by how comforting this contact is. It makes me realise how important another person’s touch can be, even when they’re essentially a stranger.
‘Would you like some water?’ Aiden asks quietly.
I nod and he gets up and goes across to the water dispenser in the corner of the room. He comes back moments later with a small plastic cup and I take it gratefully. The cool liquid washes the sour taste from my mouth and I lean against him, feeling weak. He takes my hand again and resumes the gentle massage with his thumb.
*
The doctor examines my ankle and then sends me for an X-ray. He says he thinks it’s probably just a sprain, but he can’t be sure.
‘Do you want me to phone someone for you?’ Aiden asks as we wait in the X-ray department. I’m in a wheelchair and I’m sure he’s glad he doesn’t have to carry me everywhere anymore.
‘No. It’s a Friday night, everyone will be going out and my mum has to take my sister to her drama club.’ I look at him, realising perhaps for the first time that he might not want to be stuck here in the hospital, waiting around with me. He has owls and otters and badgers to photograph, after all. ‘Don’t feel you have to stay with me, though. You should go,’ I add.
‘No, no, that’s not what I meant at all.’ He looks earnest as he takes my hand again. ‘I want to stay, I just thought you might prefer someone else other than me to be here.’
It’s weird, but at that moment I can’t think of anyone better than him. My mum would fuss, my dad would just be useless and my best friend wouldn’t stop talking. Aiden’s quiet, calm demeanour and gentle manner are just what I need right now. I smile and shake my head just as the door to the X-ray room opens and they call me in. Aiden pushes me to the door in the wheelchair but stays outside while they X-ray my ankle.
To my relief, my ankle is just badly sprained and not broken, though I’m amazed that something that’s not a break could hurt so much. They bandage it up and give me advice about keeping it iced, elevated and rested before letting me go. Aiden wheels me to his truck and then returns the wheelchair to the hospital before driving me back to my flat.
I live on the ground floor of a new-build apartment block. It’s just one bedroom, a bathroom and an open-plan kitchen and dining room, but it’s home. I see Aiden sag with relief when he realises he doesn’t have to carry me up another flight of stairs.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone for you?’ Aiden asks as we enter my flat and he deposits me onto the sofa. I shift sideways so I can keep my leg propped up. ‘I really don’t like thinking about you on your own like this. How are you going to get to the toilet? What will you do if you need something to drink?’
‘It’s fine, I’ll text my friend Katie. She only lives upstairs.’
‘What if she’s out? Do you want me to stay? I’m happy to stay with you overnight.’
‘No, you’ve done enough.’ I smile up at him, touched by his kindness. ‘Thank you so much, and I’m sorry for causing you so much hassle.’
‘Can I do anything before I go?’
‘I tell you what, you can help me into the bedroom, actually. I’m really tired so I’ll just go straight to sleep. And the toilet is within hopping distance so I’ll be okay.’
He helps me up and supports me across the room and into my bedroom. I love my bed. It’s all white: white frame, white duvet, white fairy lights entwined around the headboard, but it’s never looked more welcoming and comfortable than it does now. I can’t wait to get into it. Aiden sits me down then goes back to the kitchen to get a jug of iced water and a cup of tea to keep me going.
‘Anything else?’ he asks, hovering in the doorway.
‘You couldn’t get my pyjamas out, could you?’ I point to the chest of drawers across the room. ‘Second drawer down.’
He goes willingly, looking huge and masculine in my very feminine bedroom. ‘These ones?’ he asks, holding up a pair of candy-stripe pyjamas.
‘Yes, perfect.’
‘Do you want me to help you into them?’
‘No!’ I give him a look and he grins as he backs away, hands held up in surrender. ‘I’ll be going then. Nice to meet you, Orla.’
‘Nice to meet you too, Aiden. And thank you for looking after me.’
‘My pleasure.’ He smiles, hovering in the doorway like he doesn’t know whether to stay or go. ‘Well, have a nice life.’