Sputtering to the surface, I realised that the cold wasn’t a dream. It took me a moment to come to. What had happened? A jagged draft of freezing night air swept over me from the window, which couldn’t be right. It was closed. I sat up and winced, my ankle hurt. It more than hurt, it throbbed but as I moved to examine it in the half-light, the wind caught the curtains which billowed up revealing a large hole in the window. Through the broken glass, in the quiet of the night, I heard the crunch of gravel underfoot. I went completely still. Someone was outside.
Heart thudding, I listened, not daring to move or put the light on.
Suddenly my bedroom door was thrown open and Daniel burst in.
* * *
Daniel shoved the door open, his heart pounding. ‘Olivia! I heard a crash. Are you OK? What’s happened?’
It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the change in light but then he saw Olivia raise a shaky hand and point to the window.
Crossing to the shattered glass, he looked out of what was left of the window.
‘Careful,’ she said, ‘there’s glass everywhere.’ Despite her calm words, her voice had a distinct wobble to it as if trying to be brave. ‘Can you see anyone?’
Peering into the lamp lit street, he craned his head right and left. Nothing moved in the shadows below.
‘They’ve scarpered. Probably messing about after a session at the pub. Are you OK?’ he asked again automatically. Then he turned and looked at her properly.
She looked awful. The colour had bleached from her face and the harsh beam of the un-shaded bulb in the hall threw her features into relief making her look pale and haunted.
Splinters of glass were strewn across the bed and her arm sparkled where a sprinkling of tiny shards punctured the skin. It was only when he snapped on the overhead light, that he saw the blood. Bright, vivid, scarlet, red, pouring down her arm. His eyes tracked the glistening river to its source — a large triangular slice of glass embedded in her forearm.
Shit, that had to hurt like hell, but she didn’t seem aware of it, not yet anyway. She started to haul herself to the edge of the bed still not saying anything.
‘Wait,’ he said, conscious that the blood needed to be stopped but putting a pad on the wound was going to be impossible. Shit, his first aid training ended at being a boy scout a million years ago.
She stared down at the wound as if mesmerised by it and then a sudden grimace shot across her face. He guessed the pain had finally kicked in over the shock and surprise, but he felt relieved that she’d reacted and lost that numb look.
Blood welled up around the angry-looking wound, ruby red pooling and leeching into the pure white duvet. The starkcontrast made him want to shudder but he couldn’t let her know that.
‘Olivia,’ he said, making his voice deliberately calm as he didn’t like the look of the wound or the amount of blood she was losing. ‘Don’t move.’ He lifted the bad arm as carefully as he could. There were tiny specks of glass everywhere. Pursing his lips, he blew gently over the surface of her skin to try and loosen them. It didn’t work. He needed something else, something soft.
‘Have you got a make-up brush?’ he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. ‘Like they use on archaeology digs?’
She stared at him as if he’d gone mad but still didn’t say anything.
‘I don’t want to risk pushing some of these tiny splinters in further.’ He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes with a calm smile trying to get through to her. Was she in shock? To his relief she finally responded.
‘No. Um. Yes, I mean. There.’ She nodded to the dressing table.
With great care, conscious he had no idea whether this was the right thing to do or not, he dusted away the fragments, smearing the minuscule blood spots into little red tears.
Under his fingers he felt her jump slightly and her pulse raced under his thumb. With a rallying smile, he tried to reassure her but she still looked dazed, so he touched her face as if to check she could still respond. Her head tilted, exhaling warm breath that brushed his hand. Awareness punched into his stomach, tightening his groin as he looked at her full, plump lips. He’d been this close before, kissed her before. And she didn’t remember a damn thing about it. That thought hurt like a physical pain making him want to kiss her more than anything else in the world.
Her shoulders shuddered, loosening a thin strap that fell down her arm, pulling her camisole top low. The rise and fall ofher chest drew his attention. He wanted to stroke and soothe the skin, ease her breathing, scoop her up and hold her, take away the frozen look in her eyes.
With his girlfriend just next door. Shame slammed into him. What the hell was he thinking? Besides, Olivia didn’t want him, she was in love with someone else.
Abruptly, he put down the brush and holding on to her arm, he lifted the bedcovers away from her legs, dislodging the brick lying on the stained duvet.
‘So that’s what did all the damage.’ He scowled. What if it had hit her head? ‘Let’s get you out of here.’
He helped her off the bed, doing his best to keep his touch impersonal, needing to put some distance between them. She groaned in pain as she put her foot down. A big blue egg was already appearing on her ankle.
‘Shit,’ she said, as it gave way.
He caught her weight and without thinking put his arm around her, his earlier resolution vanishing. His fingers brushed her ribs through the thin fabric and he lifted them as if burnt.
