were downstairs with beans on toast cut up into tiny squares and Lauren was feeding Maddie. They hadn’t found any Midsomer Murders but they had found Marley and Me, a feel-good movie. They watched it with Taffie curled up by Maddie’s feet – but perhaps it wasn’t quite the right movie, because it had both of them sobbing at the end when the poor dog in the film passed away and Maddie clutched Taffie who was delighted with the extra bit of attention.
Maddie glanced outside at the large windows out to the bay. You couldn’t make anything out. It was dark, rain splattering on the glass windows making a din. Lauren got up and put on the small light. ‘You OK sweetie? I’ll help you get to bed before I leave.’
Maddie let Lauren help her get undressed and was her guide in the bathroom. She managed to swirl some mouthwash in her mouth and then collapsed into bed, exhausted. The doctors said the dressings would have to be on for a week. How was she going to manage? She couldn’t ask Lauren to come every night, could she?
Just before she left, Lauren made sure Maddie’s mobile phone was by her bed, fully charged. She could use her thumb on her right hand. It had somehow escaped the burns and wasn’t in a bandage so she could press the buttons on her phone if she really had to.
‘OK, honey,’ said Lauren. ‘I’ve fed Taffie – he’s curled up in his basket downstairs. You call me anytime, you hear, if you need anything?’
‘Thank you.’ Maddie nodded, watching the raindrops slither down the glass panes outside. She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I’m fine. You go,’ she said. ‘Thanks so much.’
Lauren’s bangles clanked as she went downstairs. ‘Bye, hon,’ she yelled just before the front door shut with a thud.
Was this her punishment? Maddie sighed, then called for Taffie – usually forbidden upstairs – and let the small dog snuggle up close to her, grateful for the company and the warmth.
57
The next morning was an ordeal. Lauren couldn’t come. She had called to say that her mother was incredibly ill and she was trying to book flights back to the States but the computer kept crashing. Maddie tried to not be selfish. ‘No, you carry on, Lauren. Really, I’ll be fine,’ she said with faux bravery. How would she cope?
She had managed to use her thumb to turn the kettle on (Lauren had left it full) but she stood in front of it now wondering how you poured boiling hot water into a cup when you could not hold anything. She gave up, and managed to use her thumb and bandaged hand to pull some bread out of the packet instead. She ate it as it was, with no butter. Taffie was sniffing around her feet.
‘Taffie, I don’t know how I can feed you! I can’t use my hands.’ He jumped onto her lap as she sat on the sofa and she rested her head on his as he let out a whine. Well, this wasn’t getting her anywhere. She got up, went to the cupboard under the sink, used her foot to nudge the dog food packet out of it where it landed with a thump on the floor. Taffie looked at her expectantly. Now what?
Kneeling down, she gingerly used her thumb and bandaged hand (it was like wearing ski gloves) and her teeth, to open the little seal at the top of the packet. She managed to get it open, then pushed it over with her foot, right over the dog food bowl. Taffie bounced around. She’d covered the bowl in food. She sat down on the chair in the kitchen, wondering what to do next. She couldn’t dress herself; she couldn’t eat. She could just about go to the loo on her own, thank God for that.
She went upstairs, and painfully slowly managed to yank off her pyjama bottoms with a lot of wriggling. Then she slid her feet through her tracksuit bottoms. If she laid them on the bed, and then sat on top of them, she could get each foot, then a leg, and it took her about five minutes to slowly pull them up with her thumb on her right hand. Her whole hand was aching. She needed painkillers, but she couldn’t pop them out of their blister pack… She had to do something.
She slowly typed the number of a helpline she was given at the hospital