Accidental Love

Injured Pride

Terry had been a total star. He'd stayed with her all day - being less serious than some of the other patients had meant a long wait. He initially brought her water and, once she'd been initially triaged, latterly crisps and a curly edged sandwich that had once contained cheese. They laughed together at their impromtu picnic and commiserated together on the distinct lack of decent vending machine food. He was a friendly man and by the time he arranged for a taxi to take her home, she knew his name, his wife's name the dog's name and that their two little boys were starting nursery school the following term.

He'd been a professional driver for ten years, and Tom was his most high-profile client. Not that he mentioned any other names, that just wasn't his style - or the done thing. He did tell her, however, that Tom would be worried about her, which made her glow inside. Tom Hiddleston? Worried about her? It was almost worth the sacrifice of her precious little car. Almost.

Becky smiled, hiding the rapidly overwhelming urge to tell Terry to say ANYTHING he wanted to about her to Tom. For his part, Terry was impressed by Becky's self restraint, normally if people discovered what he did and with whom, there were a million questions.

She, on the other hand, had been polite and, yes, taken aback at Tom's presence, but other than that? Very discrete and very kind, not to press him for gossip. In truth? After all this time, he could spot a genuinely nice person from the rabid so-called fans that just wanted 15 minutes of fame.

Becky was definitely one of the good ones. What he didn't tell her though, was that this accident might cost him his job. Not because Tom would complain, far from it, but because the chauffeur company demanded perfectly clean driving records for points and accidents. Terry knew she felt bad already - she'd said it often enough - telling her that little morsel of information would just have added to her distress.

It was almost 7 pm. when she finally got home, virtually crawling into her flat from the taxi and straight to bed. She had sent Terry home, even thiugh he'd offered to assist her. She knew there was nothing dodgy in his offer, she just felt guilty at his long day doing nothing but sitting next to her.

She decided she was too sore, too tired, and too doped to be bothered to eat. All she needed, she thought, was a good nights sleep. Tomorrow was time enough to worry about anything. Like her little car. Her precious little car. For the first time in many hours, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. That car had been her pride and joy for years. Now it was, like her, bent and broken. Unlike her, there was no hope of recovery.
She fell asleep more quickly than she anticipated she might, but that might just have been the industrial strength painkillers.

"So, the upshot is it looks as if I will be needing a few days off work, Boss." she said next morning with a sigh, "I just can't move. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can. I am really sorry!" Becky had woken up, and EVERYTHING hurt. Even her eyelids.

She wasn't, she knew, badly injured just very, very sore. A few days' rest and some strong painkillers, and she would be on the mend. The A&E consultant had been very kind and reassuring. There would, as long as she was careful, be no lasting effects to her body. Her pride, though? He could do nothing about that.

Feeling like she was 100 years old, she shuffled through to the kitchen and put some bread in the toaster. Then slowly she made herself a coffee. Even that made her wince.

Note to self, she thought, don't actually fill the kettle with enough water for more than one cup again! Sitting gingerly on a stool at the breakfast bar, sipping it. As she scrolled through her phone, scanning social media for her usual groups and sad crazy cat lady videos, the pain in her neck and back reminded her that laughing was NOT on the list of things to do yet.

She was just making her way slowly to the living room when the doorbell went. Glancing at the clock in the hall, she wondered why the postman was ringing the bell? Unusual when she wasn't expecting a parcel. She knew she would take ages to answer, so she shouted through the door.

"Hold on a mo, would you? Will take me a wee minute to get there. Don't go, please!"

"Don't worry, love, take your time." The voice was muffled by the door, but it didn't sound like Mike, her usual Postie? Maybe a newbie, hence the bell. Eventually, coffee and toast placed carefully on the table, she shuffled back, puffing and panting.

"Sorry," she opened the door as she spoke. "I managed to mangle my car and my neck yesterday. You should have seen the other ..." she stopped dead as she looked up into a huge bunch of flowers. Not only were there flowers, but chocolates, oh, and a stuffed toy cat! All these treats were being held in the famously large - and attractive - hands of her fellow accident victim. He smiled and winked at her.

"Yes darling, I know - I WAS the other guy!" Tom laughed gently."I'm so happy to see you! These are for you..." he held out the gifts, and she wasn't quite sure she wasn't hallucinating from too many painkillers.

"How... how did you?" she babbled, and he grinned. "Terry can sometimes be persuaded to be less than discrete!" he winked. "You look like you need a seat, darling - should we?" He indicated back into her home.

"Oh! Oh God, yes! Sorry! Please come on in!" she shuffled back, and he walked in, bending to kiss her cheek politely. As he walked on, she smelt his aftershave and felt the lingering touch of his lips. Let me die now Lord she prayed silently. The rest of my life is going to be such an anti-climax.

Little did she know how wrong she was!