I give him a brief summary of what’s happened as I grab the ladder.
Giuseppe grabs the other end. “I help.”
The two of us carry the ladder up to the castle, my heart pounding.
As soon as we reach the others, we hand it to Theo, and he asks Mabel to shine his torch into the hole. Then he upends the ladder and slowly lowers it, being careful not to hit Archie. He tests that its footing is secure, then straps his phone onto his belt.
“Hold on, squirt! I’m coming down!”
As Theo steps down—soon disappearing from view—I’ve no idea what to do and don’t like to ask in case I get in the way. Thankfully, Giuseppe grabs onto the top of the ladder and holds it firmly in place.
I peer into the hole but, as the light from Theo’s torch jerks and sweeps around, it’s difficult to tell what’s happening. I can hear him talking to Archie and he seems to be examining his ankle. My heart leaps into my throat.
Just as Theo’s gathering Archie into his arms, Archie mewls, “Dad, my glasses!”
There’s more jerking and sweeping, then the ladder starts squeaking. Moments later, Theo reemerges. Archie is clinging onto his back, his red hair covered in dust, his left cheek smeared with dirt, his green glasses sitting crookedly on his nose.
“Oh my god!” gasps Mabel.
“I’m so glad to see you!” says Callum.
The relief is like nothing I’ve known.
Theo lays Archie on a patch of grass, away from the diggers’ grid system. I notice his T-shirt is grubby, damp with sweat and ripped down one side. He gently presses on Archie’s ankle, and Archie screams.
“We need to get him to hospital,” Theo declares. He looks at Giuseppe.
Giuseppe nods. “Let’s go.”
As I stand watching the two of them carry Archie down the hill, his little ankle flopping by Theo’s side, all I can think is I was supposed to be looking after him.
However I look at it, this is my fault.
That evening, I pace around the patio, racked with anxiety. I haven’t heard from Theo since he messaged to say Archie was about to have an x-ray. What did it show? And how much pain is he in?
With the builders gone, the house is silent. I decide not to put a record on as it wouldn’t feel right. Callum and Mabel are sitting at the table, flicking through their phones, barely making a sound, Callum yanking at his fringe. I feel an itch on my calf and look down to see I’ve been bitten by a mosquito. Shit!
I realize I’ve forgotten to put on my spray—which means the kids will have, too. I go inside, grab the can, and hand it to Mabel.
“Come on,” I say, “there’s no point getting eaten alive.”
Once they’ve both had a spray—and I’ve put antihistamine cream on my bite—I apply it to myself.
Then I go back to pacing. And a new worry enters my mind. Is Theo going to be angry at me? Is he going to be angry that I didn’t look after the kids properly?
I decide to water the garden and plug the hosepipe into the tap on the side of the house. But as I walk around the lawn, sprinkling water onto the increasingly dominant patches of green, I feel a spike of shame. I shouldn’t have left Archie. I shouldn’t have let Callum and Mabel take him up to the castle.
My shame transports me back to the age of thirteen. Every Sunday I used to visit my dad and Debbie in their new house on the other side of Manchester. Dad often didn’t know what to do with me, and if it was sunny, used to tell me to play in the street with Trevor and Keith. Once, Trevor got into a fight with a boy around my age. When it became clear he was losing, I ran to get Dad to break it up. He arrived to find Trevor lying on the ground, nursing a broken arm, the other boy running away. As Dad helped Trevor into the car to drive him to hospital, he looked at me andsaid, “You were bigger than him.” I can still remember the anger and disappointment on his face.
More than thirty years later, it occurs to me that Callum and Mabel may be blaming themselves for what happened with Archie. Particularly Callum, as he’s the oldest. And he already worries he’s a disappointment to his dad.
I turn to face them. “Are you guys alright?”
They respond with grunts that remind me of the start of our holiday—when they were unreachable, their defenses activated.
“Don’t worry, Archie’s going to be fine,” I assure them. “The worst that can happen is he’ll have a few broken bones—nothing that can’t be mended.”
“Are you sure?” asks Callum.
