‘Yes, but you want to be ready. They’ll be on time. You’ll be the first appointment of the day.’ Lilly bustled about the kitchen getting breakfast ready.
Fletcher frowned at the two places set. ‘You not had your breakfast yet?’
‘No I have not.Iwas up at seven o’clock to get here. Somebody had to make sure you were up and raring to go.’
Fletcher rubbed his tired eyes. ‘Thanks, Lilly.’ He gave a yawn. Then his face dropped as she put two bowls of porridge on the table. He looked at her in despair.
‘It’s for your own good, Fletcher,’ she told him.
‘I know,’ he replied, staring at it in disgust. How he wished a plate of bacon, eggs, sausage and fried tomatoes was there in front of him.
‘Think of your weight.’
‘Hmm.’ And black pudding. His mouth watered at the thought.
‘It’s good for your cholesterol too.’
‘Hmm.’Anda side plate of fried bread.
He sighed and picked up his spoon. He didn’t regret going to the doctors though. The painkillers she had prescribed had already worked wonders and it was such a relief to sink into bed without creaking in pain. Whereas once he’d dread getting up and having to set his stiff body in motion, now all he had to do was reach for the small bottle of pills by his bedside table and know he’d be helped. However, he did have reservations about the physiotherapy and the ‘structured exercise plan’.
‘Are you all right?’ Lilly looked warily at Fletcher, thinking he was unusually quiet.
‘I suppose.’
‘You might enjoy it,’ she tried to gee him up.
‘Well, if the doctor’s anything to go by, I’m expecting the physiotherapist will be a young dolly bird,’ he laughed, deciding to buck up and make an effort. He remembered Lilly ticking him off last time he got all maudlin.
She smiled in approval. ‘That’s the spirit.’
They’d just finished their breakfast when the doorbell rang.
Lilly got up. ‘You go into the drawing room and I’ll see them in.’
Fletcher was sat in his armchair when Lilly entered the room, followed by a young man in a green uniform. ‘Tarquin, this is Fletcher.’
The young man beamed. ‘Hi, Fletcher,’ he called in a sing-song voice and, taking small steps, scurried over to him. Fletcher’s jaw dropped.
‘I’ll leave you gentlemen to it,’ Lilly said, the corners of her mouth twitching, and closed the door.
Tarquin knelt down in front of Fletcher and clapped his hands together. ‘So, Fletcher, let’s take a look, shall we?’
Fletcher blinked and sat still.
Tarquin gave another big smile. ‘Let’s try to stretch out those legs.’
Fletcher did the best he could, immediately noticing how less painful it was from the last time he’d done this with the doctor.
‘Very good!’ Tarquin gave another quick clap. ‘Now for the arms.’
Again, he managed to lift and extend his arms without the same aching feeling.
‘Excellent!’ gushed Tarquin. ‘Now, I want you to put one leg out,’ he glanced around the room and quickly pulled the nearby footstool up to Fletcher, ‘and rest it on here,’ he tapped the stool. Fletcher noticed his hands were smooth and soft, not hard and callused like his. ‘That’s it. Now circle your foot.’
It was difficult at first and a crack came from his ankle, making Tarquin’s face contort.
‘Oh dear, it will get easier, the more you do it. It’s all about learning to loosen up those joints.’
