The People's Friend

I tried to avoid the young men Gran wanted to set me up with

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again. Where was she?

I opened the front door and looked right and left. Then I slammed it and ran to the back door. The sun was hot on the terrace as I went out and there was the fresh smell of cut grass. Gran often sat out there for lunch but there was no sign of her at the table.

I hurried down the steps, now quite frantic to find Gran, and that’s when it happened. My shoe caught on an uneven stone and I fell, banging my head on the dry lawn at the bottom.

Pain shot up my leg. “Chloe?” Gran came racing over to me.

I tried to raise my head, but it was so heavy. I winced.

“I was . . . looking for you . . .”

“I was putting some tins in the recycling bin. Never mind that – are you OK?”

“Yes. No.” My voice was little more than a flutter of the wind.

I opened my eyes and closed them again. It was too much effort. My heart was thumping in my chest.

“Chloe, can you move?” I felt Gran’s hand on my arm. “Chloe? I’m going to phone for an ambulance.”

I tried to lift my hand in a stopping motion.

“No,” I whispered. “No fuss.”

“But you’re hurt! I daren’t move you.”

I glanced at the house and saw Gran coming back on to the terrace. What a lot of trouble I was causing.

“Chloe? Oh, thank goodness you’re awake,” Gran said. “I’ve called the doctor but I think you’re going to need to go to hospital.”

I was protesting when we heard the front door. Gran left me to answer it.

“I’m the locum, Gary Lorimer.” I was vaguely aware of a youngish man with dark curly hair, wearing a suit. He put a bag down beside me.

He carefully checked me all over, and then phoned for an ambulance.

“I think that leg needs setting,” he said with a smile. “More than I can manage out here in the garden.”

I moaned.

“No. I don’t want to go.” “You don’t have a choice in the matter,” he said briskly.

The ambulance men strapped me on to a stretcher and carefully lifted me on to the trolley. It was hideous, not being in control.

Gran came with me in the ambulance.

She waited while I was taken for X-rays and checked all over. I was given numbing shots and then they straighten­ed out my leg.

“They want to keep

you in overnight, Chloe, because you banged your head.”

“No, why?” I protested, but I was soon asleep.

Next morning I learned the extent of the damage I’d done to myself. My leg was in plaster up to the

“Do you live here all the time with your grandmothe­r?” he asked as he checked my pulse and temperatur­e.

“No, I was just visiting for the weekend. But I’ve had to tell work I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I

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