‘Can we see her?’
Claudia was sitting grey-faced and groggy in a hospital bay, her arm already set in a cast. Her flatmate Maria, a Spanish nanny, was sitting with her, holding her good hand. Amy sat down on her other side.
‘My handbag’s gone,’ said Claudia, still visibly shaken.
‘We can get you another one,’ said Amy, touching her shoulder. ‘All that matters is that you’re okay.’
‘I can’t come to Provence,’ Claudia said, stifling a sob.
Amy didn’t know what to say. ‘Maybe we can change your flight.’
‘I’ve got a cast . . .’
‘I’m sure you can fly after a couple of days.’
‘How can I work like this? How can I drive? Look after the kids?’
Amy didn’t want to seem insensitive and agree with her, but she was right. She wasn’t going for a holiday; she was going to work, and she couldn’t do that with a cast on her arm.
A doctor came through with a clipboard and stood at the end of the bed. David introduced himself and asked him to explain Claudia’s injuries.
‘Well, the fracture of the wrist is fairly minor. But I’ve looked at the X-rays of the ankle, and the break is on the fibula, which may mean surgery in the next few days if we want it to heal properly.’
Claudia started to cry.
‘There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll need a cast boot for five to six weeks afterwards, and a few sessions of physio, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be back to normal by mid-October.’
Amy felt her heart start to thump in panic. She couldn’t afford Claudia to be out of action for so long. The Provence trip would keep them away for three weeks, but September was busy: four fashion weeks and the gala dinner, as well as the Mode application.
She felt dizzy under the hot lights.
‘Are you absolutely sure she needs surgery?’
‘I’ll have to speak to my colleague and get his view. If we can reset the bone through a procedure called closed reduction, then surgery isn’t required and recovery time could be quicker.’
David and Amy walked away from the bay to get a coffee from the drinks machine. Amy knew what they were both thinking, so she thought she might as well speak up first.
‘We can’t go to Provence and leave her like this,’ she said, almost downing the hot liquid in one.
‘We can’t miss the trip because she’s broken her ankle,’ David replied. ‘We’ll all just be sitting around miserably. Besides, before Max and Claire’s nanny decided she was going back to Spain, Claudia wasn’t even coming.’
Amy looked at him sharply. ‘Of course, it’s much more important that Claudia gets plenty of rest,’ she said.
‘Wouldn’t be much use picking Tilly up either,’ said David.
‘Maria said her mum is going to come over from Amsterdam.’
‘Let’s make sure we pay for that,’ said David, as if it was letting them off the hook.
It was 5 a.m. by the time they got home. It felt too late to sleep, as if they should push on through. They sat down at the kitchen table and Amy poured them glasses of cold juice from the fridge.
‘It’s just horrible.’ She put her hands to her face. They were cold and smelled of disinfectant, so she cupped them round her glass.
Claudia’s ankle had been reset manually, but the hospital wanted to see her again within the week to make sure it was healing properly. Which made the situation better than they had first thought, but still, it had been an upsetting and unsettling evening, not least for Claudia herself.
‘I wonder if Max is up,’ said David, looking at his watch. However much concern they felt for Claudia, this was an awkward situation in that Max had been insistent that a nanny come with them to Provence.
‘What’s the point of having the best wine cellar in Lourmarin if we’ve got to spend the whole bloody time babysitting?’ he’d said when the idea of the trip had first been suggested.