“I’m sorry. I can’t play football very well.”
“Daddy, will we have to chop off your head?” Eden asks, laughing like a wild animal at her father’s injury.
“I hope not.”
Ace glares at Penny the whole time. It doesn't go unnoticed by me; it’s what I do when I don't like someone.
Once Penny leaves us and the swelling starts to go down on Alex’s head, we decide to take a walk. I carry the picnic basket while Alex has Eden on his shoulders, and Ace carries the football.
“I want an ice cream.” Eden moves her father’s head sideways so he can’t miss the ice cream truck.
“I have an injury. On my head,” Alex points out.
“Look, Daddy.” Eden keeps his head still, making sure he can see.
“Who wants an ice cream?” Alex asks.
Ace is just a bit ahead of us and Eden is between Alex and me as we walk with our ice cream cones.
“Gemma, hold my hand,” Eden demands, slurping the last bit of her ice cream.
Her fingers are a sticky mess. She gives the soggy cone to Alex. As that part isn’t nice.
“Let’s wash your hands first. I’m not touching those mucky fingers,” I tell her.
She puts her hands out to grab hold of me.
“Eden, no, no…” I run away from her, her wild little laugh following me.
I look behind to see Ace has joined her. I throw the picnic basket down so I can run faster. The children are coming for me, screaming with laughter. Turning my head to see where they are, I don't notice a dog that’s running towards me. I skid at the last minute to avoid landing on top of the terrier, and I twist my ankle. I end up on my side, my dress half way up my body.
A throbbing pain sears through my ankle. The owners come over to apologise and check on me; it is an accident, of course. Alex runs over with the picnic basket that I discarded.
“Are you okay?” He sits down next to me, looking at my ankle. He’s gentle as he lifts it up.
“It’s sore. I’m not sure I can walk on it,” I moan.
Alex’s thumb massages it in small circular motions. “Good news, I don’t think it’s broken, just sprained.” He looks at me. "That's what you get for running from little monsters," he jokes.
“Just what I need. Can you help me up, please?” I ask.
“Ace, take the basket. Eden, the ball.” He bends down, lifting me in his arms.
“What on earth are you doing?” I almost yell.
“Carrying you.”
“Put me down.” I struggle to get out of his arms.
He places me back on the grass. Struggling to get up on my feet, Alex crosses his arms over his chest as he watchesme. But I do it. I get myself off the ground only to fall into him, supporting myself on his arms.
“I’ll hold onto your arm,” I suggest.
“Get on, I’ll give you a piggyback.” He bends down. The car is a good mile away.
Hitching my dress up, I climb on. “Forward.” I point to the car, kicking him with my good foot on the one side like I was riding my old horse, Broomstick.
“Do you want to walk?” The gruff tone means he isn't amused by my antics.
