I let out a gasp of relief. ‘Are you ok? For a moment, I thought …’
She tries to sit up and gives a gasp of pain. ‘My ankle!’
‘Don’t try to stand,’ I say. ‘Can you straighten your leg?’
She winces. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Where’s Dad?’ I ask.
‘He’s playing golf,’ she says. ‘He won’t be back for hours. You can try ringing him, but he never hears his phone when he’s at the club.’
‘I’m going to call an ambulance.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she says. ‘I don’t need an ambulance.’
‘Mum, you can’t move, and you’ve fallen down the stairs. You can’t stay here.’
‘Of course not,’ she says. ‘You’ll have to take me to the hospital. Give me a minute. I’m sure I’ll be able to walk if you help me.’
She props herself up against the bottom stair. ‘It’s feeling better already. Perhaps I don’t …’
‘Yes, you do,’ I say firmly. ‘The only question is how we get you there.’
I try Dad’s number. As Mum predicted, there’s no answer.
‘I think I can get to the car alright,’ she says. ‘I’m feeling a lot better now.’
I help her to stand, and she puts her arm around my shoulders. It takes us a while to walk down the hall and out to the car, but we make it at last. I recline her seat and help her in, and she lies back, her face white and strained.
Even driving as carefully as possible, I can tell she’s in considerable pain. I pull up outside emergency and run in. Three nurses come out and manage to manoeuvre Mum out of the car and onto a trolley. I follow them inside.
‘I suspect she’s broken her leg,’ says one of the nurses. ‘We’ll take her straight down for an x-ray. Would you like to wait here?’
I sit in the waiting room, my thoughts in a whirl. How could everything change so suddenly? One moment, Mum is laughing and joking, and the next she’s in a hospital bed, having sustained goodness knows what injuries. Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse.
I’ll put off going to Paris for a while. If need be, I can cancel it altogether. They can find someone else to take my place. Plenty of people applied for the course. I can’t possibly go and leave Mum if she’s in any danger.
It seems an age before a nurse comes to get me. ‘Your mother’s had an x-ray, and they’ve taken her to pre-op.’
‘An operation?’ I say, startled.
‘She’s broken her leg,’ says the nurse. ‘But it isn’t a straightforward break. She has a compound fracture, and she’ll probably need the bone pinned.’
‘Can I go and see her?’
‘Of course,’ she says reassuringly. ‘We’ve got her a little more comfortable and given her something for the pain. She’s been very brave about it. Is she always like that?’
I haven’t thought about this before. Now that I do, I realise Mum very rarely complains about anything major. She’s quick to fuss and complain about small things, but she’s surprisingly stoical about the bigger ones.
I find her propped up in a hospital bed. She’s still pale, but she looks more cheerful. ‘I’m so sorry, love.’
I bend down to kiss her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t help what happened. I’m so glad you’re ok.’
‘They’re going to operate this evening,’ she says, looking anxious.
‘So they told me. Don’t worry, Mum. You’ll be absolutely fine.’
Her face crumples. ‘Did you manage to find your father?’