The First Aider, in a huff about Michelle’s interference and her mockery of the first patient she’d had in days, snapped, ‘Here it is, waiting for him. Blood takes people that way sometimes. It could have been very serious. Here, sit up, Paddy. Mind, it’s hot.’
‘It’s bleeding a lot still. We’d better get you to the hospital to have it stitched.’
This advice from Michelle made Paddy go as white as a sheet again. He was going to resist that idea. He simply was not going, no matter what she said.
‘You work with soil, Paddy, so you can’t work with it bleeding so much. If nothing else, it could get infected. That would be dangerous for you, not the plants. Right, Mrs First Aider, take him to hospital.’
’I’m the one qualified to say whether or not he goes to hospital, not you.’
‘And I’m manager here, and I say he has to go. Get galvanised, woman, I don’t want him passing out.
Again
.’
Muttering furiously under her breath, the First Aider escorted Paddy out, to find, halfway across the staff car park, that her car
keys were in the staff room. Unfortunately for her, Michelle came out into the car park at full speed at that precise moment, shouting, ‘You might find these useful!’ This was her final humiliation.
Paddy was given the rest of the day off by Michelle when he finally got back to the big house. ‘You look as white as a ghost, Paddy. We can’t have you working with equipment in that state, else that First Aider will think it’s Christmas and her birthday rolled into one. Home you go. Can you walk there OK? Or perhaps you’d like me to give you a lift?’
‘Of course I can, the fresh air’ll do me good. Thanks.’
Greta wasn’t working that afternoon and she was horrified when she saw the size of the bandage Paddy’s finger was swathed in. ‘Oh, Paddy! I’m glad I can’t see it. Oh! Look! There’s blood coming through. It must be bad.’
‘It is, but …’ Paddy said, more cheerfully than he felt, ‘I’ll survive.’
‘Do you want a lie down?’
‘No, but I’ll sit in the lounge for a bit.’
‘Cup of tea and a biscuit. Plenty of sugar, that’s what you need.’
Greta bustled away and fussed over him all afternoon till about four o’clock when he said he’d have a lie down. She agreed it would do him good and told him she’d give him a shout when his supper was ready, if he hadn’t put in an appearance.
Paddy fell asleep soothed into unconsciousness by Tasmin’s music. My, she could play …
When Vince came in and Marie had told him the story about Paddy, he went upstairs to see how Paddy was. He tapped on the door and, getting no reply, decided for safety’s sake, he’d better walk in, just in case Paddy had taken a turn for the worse.
The door creaked a little and the noise woke Paddy. Vince was convinced he needed an evening in the pub, but Paddy didn’t want to go. ‘Go on, Paddy. You need something to take your mind off it. Eat a good supper and you’ll feel a new man. Go on.’
Paddy allowed himself to be persuaded, mainly because he hoped doing something positive might take his mind off his throbbing finger.
They joined Don and Vera at the same time as Willie and Sylvia. As always, they were all careful not to sit in Jimmy’s old chair. Somehow they’d developed a kind of dark wariness about that chair, as though, if they sat in it, a sudden, unwelcome visit by the Grim Reaper would inevitably occur. They told each other it was all nonsense, but still no one sat in it.
Consternation was the order of the day when they saw Paddy’s heavily bandaged finger. ‘My, Paddy, that looks bad. How did you do it?’ This was Vera, looking terribly concerned.
Greta said, ‘It’s terrible, he fainted.’
Willie was scornful. ‘Paddy, you never did! I thought you were a real man.’
Greta spoke up in his defence. ‘It’s real bad. The First Aider took him to hospital. Stitches, tetanus injection, the whole works. Michelle insisted.’
‘You can’t work then? All that soil and funny germs.’
Paddy rubbed his hand to relieve the throbbing. ‘It’s a bit difficult. Michelle’s very particular about tetanus and that, but I’ll go mad if I don’t work. It’s my life blood, is gardening.’
‘Perhaps you could do some office work to broaden your experience. There’s bound to be office work in running gardening projects. Bills and things to pay. Seed catalogues to study.’ Sylvia suggested.
‘I’m right-handed so I couldn’t hold a pen.’
‘Oh! Of course not.’
Don leaned across to speak confidentially to Paddy. ‘A little
bird tells me that a bit of experience in the office could stand you in good stead, seeing as Michelle’s off to Kew at the end of the month.’
They all heard, even though he was only speaking to Paddy.
‘No!’ They said in unison.
‘Who’s going to be Head Gardener then? You? You’d better get the drinks in to celebrate,’ suggested Willie.
‘I’m telling you here and now, I’m not going to be Head Gardener. I haven’t been there long enough. And I don’t have enough experience yet.’
‘No, I should think not, considering what a thief you were some years back.’ Don picked up his glass of home-brew and drank from it as his comment sank in.
Greta, who’d taken Paddy into her heart right from him first coming to lodge with her at Sir Ralph’s request, was genuinely horrified. ‘How dare you, Don Wright. What a cruel, unkind thing to say. You know full well Mr Fitch has complete faith in Paddy, otherwise he wouldn’t have paid for him to go to college, now would he?’
Vera nudged Don and said, ‘That’s enough, Don, you’ve gone too far.’
Don retaliated with, ‘Maggie told me that she saw him steal in the railway station once. So yes, he was. And well you know it. I shan’t apologise.’
Vera was mortified and Sylvia was full of sadness at the hurt Don had caused and, as for Willie, he plunged in with, ‘What about the milk of human kindness, Don? There’s no need to rake all that up.’ He looked at Paddy and saw how hurt he was.
Paddy was ashen-faced. His throbbing finger didn’t help either. It just didn’t seem to be his night. ‘I’d better go. Goodnight.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up, preparing to leave.
‘No, don’t go. Finish your drink. Go on. Take no notice.’
‘I’d rather go. Goodnight.’ Paddy left, speaking to no one as he weaved his way between the tables.
‘I can’t believe it of you, Don, that was cruel.’
‘It was the truth and well you know it.’
Vince, a man of few words, chimed in with the final comment on the matter. ‘It would have been better left unsaid and the next time you see him I shall want to hear that you’ve apologised. It was unforgivable and, if you’ve nothing better to say, you’d better shut up.’
‘Right then, I will. ’Cept if anyone’s interested, they’ve started.’
Vera, Vince, Greta and Willie sat waiting for further enlightenment, but it didn’t come. Impatiently Vera asked Don what he was talking about.
‘Ralph’s old house. They’ve started renovating it after the fire, you know. It’ll take some doing, it was a fire and a half. Must be nigh on a year since it burned down. Poor Ralph, he loved that house.’
‘Poor Muriel too, burned alive. She didn’t deserve for that to happen.’
‘Someone’s bought it then?’ asked Vince.
‘Couldn’t say.’
Vera began huffing in exasperation. ‘For heaven’s sake, Don, tell us what you learned.’
‘I learned nothing. This chap was coming out the door and locking it behind him, though heaven knows why seeing as there’s nothing in it and no roof on it. When I asked him, he shut up like a clam.’
‘So,’ said Vera, ‘we’re no wiser.’
‘Well he said he’d been asked by a solicitor in London to take over restoring it. That was all he knew. Just that this solicitor in London was in charge of it. But it’s being completely restored on the instructions of the new owner and they’re starting next week, scaffolding and that. Apparently they’ve been a few times making plans and now they’re really starting work on it.’
‘Not before time. It’s a right eyesore, and that tarpaulin flaps
in the wind all the time. It can’t half be annoying if you live nearby I should imagine,’ remarked Greta.
‘Grandmama Charter-Plackett said that the other night, when that gale got up, it was flapping and banging all night.’
‘I wonder who’s bought it?’
‘Maybe it’s been inherited by the so-called possible long-lost nephew or whatever of Ralph’s they’ve been searching for. There must be someone, somewhere who’s inherited it.’
‘Well, all I can say is, if they’re half as nice as Ralph, they’ll do all right. It’ll be a long job.’
‘Well, time will tell,’ said Willie. ‘Anyone ready for another drink? Sylvia, Vera?’
‘What about me, don’t I count?’ Don angrily pushed his glass along the table towards Willie.
‘Only if you remember about that apology. You’ve really hurt Paddy’s feelings, you have, Don.’
Paddy sat outside the Royal Oak on the seat they all called Saul’s seat, named after the old soldier who was banned from the pub two centuries or so ago, and who sat there waiting for the pub customers to take pity on him and bring him a drink out.
He was devastated about what Don had said about him. Normally comments like that he simply shrugged off, but tonight somehow he couldn’t. It was so unfair of Don when he’d been honest ever since Mr Fitch gave him his chance to reform. Thieving never crossed his mind now, not since he’d felt so secure in the friendship he’d been given by Vince and Greta. Moving in with them had been the icing on the cake of his new life and he’d foolishly hoped that everyone he knew would allow him to leave the bad times well behind him. Life could be so unfair. Even his finger was throbbing something terrible.
Paddy sat there knee-deep in self-pity. One person entered the pub without even glancing at him; so much for friendly villagers. Two cars hastened by, and what he hoped would happen
but didn’t, was that someone from the table he had been sitting at would come out and beg him to return. He wouldn’t have gone back in if they had, but it would have been good to have the opportunity to refuse their offer. Another car slowed up, went by, then reversed and stopped alongside Saul’s seat.
And there she stood, the love of his life. Now he really felt foolish. Wallowing in deep self-pity! What a fool he was.
Tamsin walked round the bonnet of her car and stood in front of him. ‘Been banned? For fighting?’ She pointed at his finger and her face broke into a wide smile. When he didn’t reply, she tapped his shoulder gently and, still getting no response, sat down beside him. ‘In the dumps? What’s brought that on? Where’s the laughter and the jokes in the pub I hear about?’
‘You see, you try so hard to leave your wrong-doings behind you. You turn over a new leaf, become ambitious, an optimist instead of a pessimist, hard-working instead of an idle good-for-nothing at the bottom of the pile, and then someone kicks you in the teeth and reminds you of the past.’
‘Who?’
‘Don Wright.’
Tamsin smiled to herself. ‘Oh, Paddy! Don’t take it to heart. Don’s a great chap but since he had that bad fall when he was repairing the guttering at the nursing home in Penny Fawcett, he’s never been that good.’ She tapped her head to indicate where Don’s problem was. ‘Looks all right, but he forgets to be thoughtful sometimes.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Peter did. He told me to remember not to take offence at strange things he might say.’
‘I see.’
But she didn’t seem to have been any comfort to him. ‘So don’t let it upset you.’
Paddy sighed, then looked up so he wasn’t staring at his feet and said, ‘Right.’
‘That’s better. Now, as I see it, you have two options. We go in the pub for a drink or we go home to my house and have a drink there. I think the pub, in the long run, would be the better option, don’t you? Show them you’re proud of what you’ve achieved, which you’ve a right to be.’
Curiously, Paddy’s self-pity lifted and he could bear to look her in the face. ‘OK then. With you, I will.’
‘Wait there. I’ll go and park my car, then we’ll go in together.’
Harry had been in the pub and observed the incident with Paddy and he was left to wonder what Paddy had done. Thieving? Thieving what? He’d ask Marie and Zack when they joined him. He checked his watch. They were late, in fact, twenty minutes late, and that wasn’t like them. On the dot, or ten minutes early, was more their style. So he was still waiting when Paddy came back in with the church organist. What the blazes was her name? Surname was Goodenough or something. And her first name? Harry was saved from the struggle to remember when Georgie spoke to her by name. ‘Now, Tamsin, what can I get you? Not often we see you in here so you’re very welcome indeed.’
Harry heard Tamsin ask in her sweet voice for a Martini and lemonade.
‘And what for you tonight, Paddy?’ Georgie asked as she leaned over the bar counter and said something sotto voce to Paddy. She must have said something encouraging because Paddy smiled a little. The two of them carried their drinks to a table just the other side of where Harry was sitting and he was able to keep them in his sights by slightly adjusting the angle of his chair. There was a little awkwardness about their being together and he guessed this wasn’t the first time, but that they were still new enough not to be absolutely comfortable with each other. Now, if it had been him and Venetia, they’d have been possibly holding hands and laughing together, their heads close so others couldn’t hear what was said.