Christmas at Hope Cottage: A Magical Feel-Good Romance Novel(35)

A noise from behind made them both start.

‘I didn’t know you had a visitor,’ said Evie, her voice, a little cool.

Emma closed her eyes. ‘Jack just came over to say hello.’

‘That’s nice of him,’ said Evie. Her tone, however, implied otherwise.

Jack swallowed. ‘I just stopped by to see how Emma was doing,’ he said. ‘I better get going though.’

‘You don’t have to leave,’ protested Emma. ‘Stay a while.’

He shot a look at Evie, who’d actually crossed her arms. ‘Can’t, sorry – got to get back to the office,’ he said, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Nice seeing you again, Mrs Halloway,’ he said before he left.

Evie harrumphed. ‘Mrs Halloway?’

Emma let out an impatient breath. ‘Well, it’s not like he could just call you Evie.’

‘What do I care what an Allen calls me?’

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘You could have been a bit nicer to him, you know – it couldn’t have been easy coming in here.’

Evie scoffed. ‘Yeah, but as usual it was just so very easy for him to run away when things got a little tough.’

‘Yes, and who made it tough?’

‘Love, it wasn’t me that made it hard.’

‘You did tonight.’

Evie sighed. ‘I know… look love, I’ll be his best pal, I promise, if Jack finds a way to be the man you need. If he stood up for you to his family, no one would be happier than me. I’m just afraid that you’ll get your hopes up again, only for them to come crashing down.’



* * *



She was still angry later that evening, trying to block out Evie’s words, when she decided to finally try having a proper shower. Since her accident, she’d got by with a flannel, soap and a sink full of water. It did the job, but it was tiresome, and Evie had to wash her hair for her every few days. What she craved, really, was to be more independent, to not have to rely so much on Evie for everything, particularly now when she was so annoyed with her. The trouble was that she shared Evie’s fear about having her hopes crushed by Jack again, but she was trying not to think about it, trying to make sense of what she felt.

Wrapping her damaged arm and the cast on her leg in plastic bags, she ran the water and stepped gingerly under the spray, careful to keep her broken leg as far away as she could. It felt fine at first, the water warm, invigorating; but then, without warning, everything changed – suddenly it was like she was being tortured alive, by hundreds of stinging insects. The pain stealing her breath away, like nothing she’d ever felt before, she scrabbled to open the glass door, falling, gasping, wet and howling on the floor.

It was a long while before she could scoop herself off the linoleum, or even risk putting a towel across her skin, terrified as she was of what it might feel like. When she sat up though, once the shock had worn off, her stomach plummeted and hot, angry tears pricked her eyes: she realised she’d landed on her already damaged wrist.

Evie took her the next day to see the doctor who was monitoring her recovery. Emma sat with her heart in her mouth as Dr Norton examined the arm. He’d had to take off the cast, and she could see that her hand looked swollen, the skin a mottled shade of purple and red.

He peered at her from above his black-framed glasses. ‘It didn’t break again.’

She exhaled in relief, not realising that she’d been holding her breath.

‘You’ll have to go back into a full cast though. I’m sorry, I know you were looking forward to having it off soon.’

Emma closed her eyes. ‘Will it set it back – the recovery?’

‘A few weeks, yes, but nothing serious. Just no more showers, all right – stick to what you know. For now, we know that water isn’t always your friend.’

Emma frowned. ‘But for how long – I mean, I need to be able to shower at some point, to live a normal life.’

His eyes were sad. ‘I’d suggest taking smaller steps. Holding your hand under the tap, for instance – if it stings, well then at least it’s felt on a reduced area, you know what I mean?’

She nodded. It made sense. ‘Small steps.’

‘Small steps,’ he agreed.

When she got home, she found Sandro waiting for her in the greenhouse. Her laptop was open. He greeted her with a wink. ‘Hello there, soldier. I heard about what happened. I’m sorry.’

She gave a small smile. ‘Thanks.’

She felt completely worn out from her trip to the doctors. Her brain felt loose and flabby, like a punctured balloon.

He shook his head, eyes concerned, no doubt noting her flat, straggly hair, her pale skin and the purple, bruise-like shadows beneath her eyes.

‘You look exhausted,’ he said, standing up. ‘I know we said we’d do the column now, but let’s leave it till tomorrow, okay? Get some rest. I can go in a bit later tomorrow so you can do a longer session. I can get Nico to open up for me.’

Emma took a seat at the garden bench.

‘No – don’t worry, I’m fine, we can do it now, I’ll rally. How about one of your super-volt coffees?’

He grinned. ‘Super-volt?’

‘Yep – couldn’t taste it the other night, but my brain was buzzing for hours.’