‘So the secure parking will be complete by the first of December, including all surveillance cameras?’ Xander signed the last of the contracts for the final stage of renovations and capped his pen. Blind spots in the car park security system had been identified, and removal of the old wire fencing had begun.
‘Guaranteed.’ Rob Carter rolled up the plans and slid them into a canister.
Xander shook Carter’s hand. ‘I’m glad you took over the company when your father stepped down as managing director. Thanks, Rob.’
Rob raised his hard hat and wiped an arm across his forehead. The temperature in the resort was a balmy twenty-eight degrees, but here on the expanse of bitumen, it was several degrees hotter. ‘Now all we need is—’
Xander watched the digger reverse.
Waited for Terry to move.
Watched.
‘No beeps. There’s no bloody reversing …’ He sprinted towards the unwitting workman.
It unrolled in slow motion. Xander had never believed people who’d told him that … until now.
He yelled, Terry turned, fell.
The machine rolled towards him.
Frantically, Xander waved at the driver to stop.
Brakes squealed and Xander slid down the small slope. Dimly aware he’d lost his hard hat, Xander kneeled beside the fallen workman. The wire fence, partially removed, had stopped the workman’s slide.
‘Terry, mate, are you okay?’ Xander looked at his scrunched-up face, ran his gaze down Terry’s body. Blood spurted from his thigh, spurted over twisted wires, stained the ground below. He yelled over his shoulder. ‘Get an ambulance. I think he’s nicked an artery.’
Xander grabbed the fencing, lifted it away and tried to clamp a hand over the wound at the same time. Slippery with Terry’s blood and his own sweat, the panel slid in Xander’s grasp, gashing his hand. A pole fell, clipping his head and shoulder.
Rob scrambled down the other side of Terry’s body and lifted the panel off Xander’s hand. More hands reached in, helping, dragging, lifting the injured man.
Xander kept his hand clamped over Terry’s thigh. Bright red blood welled between his fingers. ‘It’s okay, Terry. Ambulance is on its way.’
***
Xander slumped against the wall outside the kitchen. His head reeled and his body ached like he’d battled a giant octopus—and come off second best. Three days of dropping Jenny at the kitchen to spend time with Flick had quickly become routine, for which he was profoundly thankful.
Thank God Jenny hadn’t been with him this morning.
Clanging and the clatter of a busy kitchen aggravated the throbbing in his head, but he dredged deep for a smile—or something that passed for one before Jenny saw him—and pushed the door wide with his shoulder.
Seated at a small table in the corner behind where Flick was working, Jenny caught sight of him and grinned. ‘We made pikelets today, Xander. I kept some for you.’
‘Great.’ Damn it. His voice sounded gravelly. He had to do better or risk Jenny noticing. Hand throbbing in time with the headache pounding behind his eyes, he focused on the chocolate cake taking shape beneath Flick’s skilled hands. Lemon icing looped between delicate pink flowers. With her next loop he breathed in, held his breath for the second and third loops, and released his breath on the next two.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Mastering the pain, he raised his eyes.
Flick’s gaze skimmed over him, caught on the tear in his jacket sleeve, stalled on blood streaking his cuff. Her eyes widened in wordless question.
He shook his head and slid a glance towards Jenny. Flick nodded once.
He was a mess, but in the toss-up between going to shower and change, and reaching Jenny before word of the accident got back to the resort, reassuring Jenny won. Mud streaked his dark drill trousers and his right hand was hidden in his pocket. The shirtsleeve button was undone and the loose cuff was streaked in mud and blood.
Some of it mine.
‘Xander?’ Jenny’s smile faltered.
Had he answered her? What had she said?
The room was at a strange angle, and the edge of his vision was blurred.
Flick set down her spatula and wiped her hands on the cloth hanging from her waistband. ‘You’d better sit down and get into those pikelets fast. Jenny’s been guarding them for you. The guys scarfed the rest.’
He felt the tug of Flick’s hand on his elbow, the press of a hand on his back, the wood of the seat against his knee, and sat.
Jenny’s small corner table was away from the workflow area. She put the pencil she’d been writing with on the notebook in front of her and picked up the plate of pikelets. Four remained.
‘All the rest were eaten because they’re so good.’
He eyed the odd shapes blobbed with strawberry jam and cream. A sweet, buttery smell rose from the plate and his stomach roiled at the thought of eating. He leaned away from the plate Jenny had shoved almost under his nose and sat well back in his seat. The curved wooden back held him prisoner. Looking from the pikelets into Jenny’s excited eyes, he swallowed, refusing to give in to his heaving stomach. ‘They look delicious. Tell me what else you’ve been doing. What are you writing in that notebook?’
While Jenny told him about her morning and showed off the notebook Christophe had given her to write down all the recipes she made, he felt Flick’s surreptitious glances, assessing, checking. He’d trusted her not to exclaim over his injuries and make a fuss, but, trying to focus on Jenny’s chatter, he felt awkward and off-balance. The doctor had given him a local anaesthetic before he clipped the edges of the jagged cut, but Xander’s right hand throbbed.
‘Coffee, Xander?’ Flick leaned on the table and nudged the untouched plate of pikelets closer to his left hand.
Right, pikelets. He needed to take a pikelet to keep up appearances. ‘Thanks.’
‘Aren’t you going to eat your pikelets? See, this one is an X shape. X for Xander.’
‘Then that’s the one I should have first, although that one looks like a J. Would that be for Jenny?’ He pointed at one with his left hand. Streaks of dried blood showed on his fingers and he quickly lowered his hand before Jenny noticed it.
***
Certain that Xander had had an accident but was trying not to frighten Jenny with the sight of blood, Flick touched Jenny’s shoulder, drawing her attention. ‘Jenny, would you go and ask Christophe if he has some brandy please? Tell him it’s for a special coffee for your brother.’
‘Okay.’ Jenny wandered off in the direction of Christophe’s corner office.
‘What have you done?’ Flick had probably bought them a minute or two at best before Jenny returned. ‘I’ll help you clean the blood off without worrying Jenny, but tell me before she comes back.’
Gingerly, he eased his right hand from his pocket and rested his elbow on the table. His hand was heavily bandaged, and the movement seemed to drain colour from his face. ‘I got the worse end of an encounter with a fence and a machine on the car park fence line. Doc wanted to send me to the hospital.’
‘And of course, you said no.’
‘You know I can’t go. Jenny would freak out. Anyway, the doc gave me a tetanus shot and I’ve got painkillers in my pocket.’
‘And you’ll soldier on as though nothing has happened.’ She checked over her shoulder to be sure Jenny wasn’t scurrying back. Through Christophe’s office window, the chef made eye contact with her. She pointed to Xander’s bandaged hand and Chris nodded. He’d keep Jenny occupied while Flick cleaned the blood off Xander’s hand. As for his clothes … she just hoped Jenny wouldn’t notice the streaks of blood.
With a hand under Xander’s elbow, she led him past where Jake was making sauce for a chicken roulade. ‘Jake, do something with those pikelets, will you? Jenny will notice if that plate isn’t empty by the time she comes back.’
Jake glanced at her and then at Xander’s injury. ‘Hey, man, not cool. What happened?’
‘Jake? The pikelets.’
‘Sure.’ Jake turned down the gas below his pan of sauce and made a beeline for Jenny’s plate of pikelets.
Flick led Xander into the change room. He sat on the hard bench beside the sink and she took down a first-aid box from the cupboard before turning on the tap. Antiseptic wipes at the ready, she removed blood from the back of his uninjured fingers looking for cuts, before turning his hand over. His palm was red-sticky, and dark lines of dried blood marked his hand like trails on a map.
‘Not much of it’s mine. I clamped my hand over the other guy’s leg until someone managed to get a tourniquet on it. The accident must have nicked an artery because there was so much blood.’
Her stomach did a flip at the metallic whiff of blood.
Moving gently, she eased his hand under the tap. Clear water flowed over his palm and ran towards the plughole in a turbulent path of red. A few spots of red-tinged water splashed onto his cuff, adding a lighter pattern of red to the dried streaks of blood. ‘How did this happen?’
‘A lapse in safety protocols. There’ll be an inquiry, but I don’t recall the beeper sounding when the digger began reversing. One of the site workers was knocked out and his leg was cut open.’
‘Were you standing next to him?’ She stepped back from the sink. Her leg brushed Xander’s bandaged hand and he winced. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’ He exhaled even more slowly before pressing his lips together and drawing in a slow breath. ‘No. I just happened to look in his direction and saw him fall. It was lucky, or the digger would have crushed him.’
‘So how did your injury happen?’ She pulled several paper towels from the dispenser and patted his hand dry.
‘Terry—the worker who was knocked out—slipped on a mound of newly turned dirt and fell under a section of old fence that’s scheduled for removal. His leg was ripped open on the exposed wire. The same wires cut my hand when we were lifting the fence off him and dragging him free.’
‘Will he be okay?’ She balled the used paper towels and tossed them into the rubbish bin.
‘I think so, but he lost a fair bit of blood. Doc said the hospital had an operating theatre ready to go as soon as the ambulance arrived. Flick—’ He gripped her hand with his uninjured left. ‘Not a word to Jenny, please.’
‘I figured that out, but I hope you’ve worked out a good answer, because she’ll want to know why your hand is bandaged.’
‘I know. I wanted to get clean clothes and wash off the blood, but I couldn’t let the news of the accident reach her before she saw me.’
‘No one here would have told her.’
He shook his head. ‘I had to be sure. She had to see I’m fine. The bandage will be less worrying now she knows I’m okay.’
‘True. Christophe won’t be able to keep her in his office for long. We’d better get back out there.’
‘Right.’ Xander rose and staggered, bumping into Flick. His left hand, unfettered by the bulky bandage, gripped her hip, and his head tipped onto her shoulder. ‘Dizzy. Sorry.’
She gripped his shoulders, holding him upright, but he was heavy against her. She leaned in, bracing her legs and supporting him.
She heard the door open behind her and then Jenny’s voice, loud enough for the whole kitchen to hear.
‘Xander, why are you kissing Flick?’