Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 3 by Various Authors

slid out of bed and came round to his side, moving the quilt the rest of the way off him and helping him shuffle forwards to the edge of the bed.
    ‘Stay there for a moment, give yourself time,’ she said, and handed him a clean T-shirt. ‘Here, put this on. You don’t want to frighten your mother to death.’ When he’d carefully eased his way into it, trying not to wince, she gave him his crutches. ‘OK?’
    He nodded, shifted his weight to his left foot and the crutches and stood up carefully. Hell. He was still wobbly, and she was so tiny that if he started to go he’d crush her.
    He gave it another second, then tried a step. Fran reached up, steadying him by the shoulders as he adjusted his weight and swung slowly forwards on the crutches. OK. So far, so good. He took another step, then another, and he was at the bathroom door in a few more steps without incident.
    ‘Can you manage?’ she asked, and only his pride made him say yes.
    ‘I’ll be fine,’ he assured her with more confidence than he felt.
    ‘OK. I’ll go and put the kettle on.’
    ‘Great. I could kill a decent cup of tea,’ he said. Shutting the bathroom door, he leant on it quickly before he fell over. Damn.
    Triple damn with a cherry on top.
    He eyed the loo in disgust. Who on earth had decided to put it right on the other side of the bathroom?
    ‘How is he?’
    Fran shook her head, sat down at the kitchen table andsmiled unsteadily at his mother, still ridiculously close to tears after watching him struggle to the bathroom. ‘OK, I suppose, but he’s very sore. I didn’t realise—I thought it was just his legs, but it’s everywhere. He says he might have a cracked rib.’
    Joy nodded. ‘Joseph said there was a big branch across his back. He was lucky—’
    She broke off, biting her lip, and Fran realised she wasn’t the only one who’d been through hell. And it was so stupid!
    But she wasn’t going to fight with him any more about it, or tell him off. He was well aware of how close he’d come—he had to be, he wasn’t an idiot. Although how anyone as clever as him could be so frustratingly dense was incredible.
    His father, Russell, came in, followed by Sarah and Brodie, and then Joe, shucking off his overalls and grinning at her.
    ‘You look a bit rumpled,’ he said, and she ran a hand through her hair and smiled self-consciously, colour warming her cheeks.
    ‘I just lay down next to him for a minute and fell asleep,’ she said, oddly embarrassed to have been caught napping with her own husband, but Sarah hugged her as if she understood.
    ‘Are you OK?’
    ‘I am now he’s home. He’s in the loo—I must go and help him back to bed.’
    But he was there, in the doorway, as white as a sheet and fending off Brodie with one hand while he leant heavily against the doorframe.
    ‘So where’s that tea, then?’ he said, cracking a smile. ‘I don’t know, five of you in the kitchen and the kettle isn’t even on.’
    ‘We were just debating on the slowest and most painful way to kill you,’ Joe said mildly, scrubbing his hands in the sink. ‘I’ve cleared the slurry pit.’
    ‘I can tell—I can smell it on you,’ Mike said, wrinkling his nose.
    ‘The lengths some people will go to to get out of the worst jobs,’ Joe quipped, and, shaking his hands, he wiped them on his jeans and gave his brother a crooked smile. ‘Take a pew, for God’s sake, before you fall down.’
    He pulled a chair out, steered his brother towards it and propped his broken leg on another chair while Joy put the kettle on. Fran moved to his side, laying her hand gently on his shoulder, afraid to hurt him until her mental map of his bruises was more accurate, but he just tilted his head and smiled at her, covered her hand with his and squeezed her fingers.
    In the busy, crowded kitchen you would have thought such a tiny gesture would go unnoticed, but suddenly you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone stopped talking and stared at them, then