Promises. Promises.

Friday August 25, 2006

There I was, halfway between West Quantoxhead and Weacombe, on the way to Taunton, not very far at all, really, when my phone rang. I pulled in, and answered it.

“Where are you?” Graham asked.

“Just past the Windmill. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve slipped a disc.”

“Oh, you poor love. Right. I’ll be with you in five minutes.”

I can cover the ground very fast on these country roads when I’ve a need. Five minutes later, I walked into the Sundowner Bar, a major part of Graham’s kingdom, to meet a very worried Rachel.

“He’s really poorly,” she said. “On the way to your caravan. I’ve never seen anyone in such pain.”

“Yes, I know, luv,” I said. “It’s a dreadful affliction.”

Halfway down the track I pulled up by the poor, suffering invalid, walking step by careful step on his way home.

“Do you want a lift?”

“No,” he said. “I’m probably better off not.”

“You’re doubtless right. I’ll go park the car and come back to help you.”

Darn it if, when I got back to him, he’d not been accosted by some insensitive bitch who was holding him in conversation. I dismissed her summarily, took him gently by the arm, and steered him along the last part of the track and into the caravan.

He really was in a poorly way, all pale and trembling. I dropped into good nurse mode, fed him, dosed him up with painkillers, and settled him in bed. Then, knowing how it works, I took myself off to Bridgwater for provisions and to call in to the house.

When I got back he was just stirring, so I sat him down for lunch, another painkiller, and back to bed. I woke to find him fumbling about, putting the kettle on, and looking oh, so much better.

“I’m jealous,” I said.”

“How do you mean?”

“When I get an attack from the spine demon it takes me at least three days to get back on my feet. Here you are, no more than six hours in, and you’re on the mend already.”

“I do feel a lot better. Providing I’m careful I should be alright now.”

“You forget that being careful thing and I shall have to kill you. On second thoughts, I’ll just let you suffer. That’s far more painful than merely being killed.”

“I’ll remember that, and you’ll pay for it when I get over this.”

“Promises. Promises.”

 

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