Outside, Tom was opening the car door and helping Frederick into the passenger seat. While Nina dealt with the seat belt, Carole climbed into the back. Once Nina joined her, Tom turned to Frederick.
“Okay?”
“As good as can be expected. Thank you for helping like this, Tom.”
“Don’t mention it. We weren’t about to leave you in pain and waiting for a taxi or an ambulance when we could just drive you to the hospital ourselves.”
“I feel like an idiot,” Frederick said. “Falling over like some old fart.”
“You didn’t fall over, Dad,” Carole insisted. “That idiot, Steven Weaver, knocked you down.”
“I never liked that man,” Frederick scowled. “He’s a damn nuisance.”
You can say that again, Carole thought as Tom sped out of the hotel grounds and into the darkness of the surrounding countryside. She might have spent the last week worrying about what might happen when she saw Steven again after all this time, but she never would’ve imagined it would bethis.
An emergency dash to A&E with her father on account of Steven’s drunken, clumsy stupidity.
Tom caught her gaze in the rearview mirror and gave her an encouraging smile. Thank goodness he was here, racing to the rescue and driving her poor father to the hospital for treatment.
If there were medals for being a wedding wingman, Tom had just won gold.
