bad cut you’ve got there,’ she said. ‘Does anything else hurt? You’re trembling.’
‘My shoulder,’ said Marigold reluctantly, nursing it with an unsteady hand.
‘I hope you haven’t broken it,’ said Nan, shaking her head dolefully. ‘Bones don’t heal very well when you’re old. Do you think you should see the doctor?’
‘No, I’m fine,’ said Marigold for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘Really, it’s just a bruise. I can move it.’ And she did, to prove she could.
When Dennis came in he was horrified to see his wife’s face. He noticed at once how white she was, and how frightened in spite of the smile she pulled to hide it. ‘What happened, love?’ he asked, coming over to look at her face.
‘She tripped on the path, silly girl. Must have been marching along with her head in the clouds,’ said Nan, mixing a bowl of disinfectant and water at the sink.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Dennis, knowing that nothing would restore his wife as well as a cup of tea.
‘That would be lovely,’ said Marigold, suddenly feeling tearful now that Dennis was here. Dennis who was so strong and capable and wonderfully reassuring. ‘Mary was up there and walked me home. Very kind of her.’
‘With that horrible dog?’ said Nan disapprovingly. ‘You’re lucky he didn’t eat you.’
‘He licked me, actually,’ said Marigold.
‘That’s revolting! Dogs lick their bottoms. Just think what he put all over your face. Disgusting!’ Nan put a wet cotton-wool pad onto Marigold’s cut. It stung. ‘Are you sure you don’t need a few stitches?’ she asked.
‘I’m sure it’s not that bad,’ said Marigold, hoping she wouldn’t have to go to A&E.
‘Have you seen it?’ asked Nan. ‘Go and have a look in the mirror and decide for yourself.’
Marigold went to look in the hall mirror. When she saw the gash in her skin she was horrified. Her heart sank. She probably did need to see a doctor, after all.
Dennis gave her a cup of tea, just the way she liked it, with a dash of milk. The first sip was enough to restore her a little. Daisy came in and Marigold had to explain all over again what had happened. ‘Before we rush you to A&E,’ she said, ‘let’s call the surgery. You never know, they might have an appointment.’
‘But what about the shop?’ asked Marigold anxiously.
‘Tasha can look after it on her own. It will do her good,’ said Nan. ‘And if she needs help we can send Suze in. Give her something proper to do.’
A few hours later Daisy and Marigold were sitting in Dr Farah’s surgery on account of a last-minute cancellation. He brought up her records on his computer, then examined her wound closely, took her blood pressure, checked that she could move her arm and asked her lots of questions, not just about her fall, but about her memory in general. All the while he wore a serious, pensive expression. Then he sat down behind his desk and knitted his fingers. ‘You don’t need stitches, but I’m going to put a dressing on it to keep it clean. No broken bones, but that shoulder of yours has taken quite a bruising, Marigold.’ He hesitated and inhaled slowly through his nostrils. ‘I’d like to run some tests. Nothing to worry about, but as you say your memory loss has got worse since I saw you before Christmas, I’d like to take a closer look.’ Then he took some blood and said that the receptionist would be in touch with the results. Marigold had hoped he’d suggest a brain scan, just to check that there was nothing wrong with her brain, but he didn’t. She was too shy to ask, and besides, it was presumptuous to tell a professional man like Dr Farah how to do his job. So she said nothing and decided that, if the doctor didn’t think her symptoms warranted a brain scan, there was unlikely to be anything wrong with her brain. That, in itself, was something of a relief.
When Marigold and Daisy left the surgery, Marigold had a big white dressing on her cheek. Daisy wondered whether her mother might have had a small stroke up there on the cliffs and was surprised the doctor hadn’t considered that. But there had been no mention of an MRI and Daisy assumed, like her mother, that if the doctor had had the slightest concern he would have sent her off to have one. Marigold was certain the blood test would reveal nothing