‘I haven’t, but I bet you have.’
‘I don’t need to be anywhere else but here.’
‘Liar.’ Walter appreciated the sentiment though.
Otto sank onto a red plastic chair. ‘What were you doing, going up a ladder at your age?’
‘Cleaning out the gutters.’
‘You should have asked me to do it.’
‘Hmph. What’s the time?’ Walter repeated.
‘Eight forty-seven.’
‘Have you been here all day?’
‘Yes.’
‘You need to get off home.’
‘I wanted to wait until they found you a bed.’
The ache in Walter’s leg was abominable, and he shifted uncomfortably.
‘They had to pin it,’ Otto said.
‘I know; they told me.’
‘You’ll have a cast for about six weeks.’
‘They told me that, too.’
‘How are you feeling?’ Otto asked. He looked drawn and there were bags under his eyes.
Walter felt awful for worrying him. ‘Not so bad.’ His reply didn’t fool Otto.
‘Do you need any pain relief?’
‘Aye, I could do with some.’
‘I’ll fetch a nurse.’
Walter closed his eyes. Not only was he in pain from his broken leg, but he felt sick, probably from the anaesthetic. His head was fuzzy, his memory jumbled. He remembered thinking, ‘Oh shit,’ followed by a terrible pain in his lower left leg. And he remembered Peg whining and licking his face. Then nothing until the ride in the ambulance and his arrival at hospital. More blurry memories; something about a CT scan and an X-ray, then being told he needed an operation.
He remembered feeling embarrassed because they cut his trousers off, and he recalled being asked to count backwards from ten. He also remembered asking someone to give Peg her toast, and lying flat on his back as he was being wheeled down a corridor, but he wasn’t sure which order those memories were supposed to be in. He had a vague recollection of a firm female voice telling him to open his eyes, then more corridors, then being lifted into the bed he was currently in, before sleep reclaimed him.
His eyes must have drifted shut now, because he was startled by someone touching his wrist. ‘Mr York, your son tells me you are a bit uncomfortable.’ A nurse was peering at his chart and writing something down.
‘You could say that,’ he agreed.
‘We’ll get you something for your pain. Otherwise, how are you feeling?’
‘Not so bad.’
‘Not so good, more like,’ Otto muttered. ‘The daft sod.’
‘Fell off a ladder, I heard,’ the nurse said.
