back. ‘Um…I’ve had better. Bit…um…stuck at the moment.’
‘Oh, I’ll call you later—’
‘No! I mean—really stuck. I’m lying under a tree.’
There was a pause. ‘As in lying under a tree on the grass, contemplating the meaning of life, or—?’
‘Lying under a fallen tree that I was cutting up,’ Mike finished for him. ‘Sort of literally stuck. And I think my leg might be broken, and the tree’s not stable.’
Just to underline that fact, the tree groaned again, and he felt sweat break out all over him. ‘I’m down by the river—only a short way from you over the fields, but you’ll need help. I’m trying to get hold of Joe, but maybe we need the fire brigade—they’ve got a few strong lads who could help shift this thing.’
‘Tell me where to come, and I’ll get them on their way, too,’ Ben said, his voice all calm business, and Mike felt his confidence like a soothing hand.
‘Out of your drive, turn left, down the hill to the river, then there’s a track to the right. Follow it—shut the gates behind you—and you’ll find me there. You’ll see the pickup and hear the dog barking.’
‘Right. Are you bleeding?’
He considered that for a second. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘OK. Stay still, don’t move and I’ll be with you.’
‘Like I can move,’ he said, but the line was dead, and he tried Joe again, getting him this time. Joe’s language was colourful, and he could hear the fear in his brother’s voice, but he’d know what to do and how to get him out, and he could use the chainsaw.
They arrived simultaneously, Joe on the tractor, Ben in his BMW, grounding on the track, and Mike felt a stupid, stupid urge to cry with relief.
‘Nice one, guys,’ he said, cracking a grin, and Joe swore and knelt down beside him, reaching through the twigs covering him to squeeze his shoulder hard.
‘Stupid bastard. This tree’s huge, far too big to tackle alone—why didn’t you call me?’
‘I did. Several times. You weren’t answering.’
Joe swore again. ‘Sorry, I was clearing the auger. Right, let’s have a look at this tree. If I could only get the tractor in here I could lift it off you with the forks, but there isn’t enough room. The other trees are too close.’
‘So what’s plan B?’
Joe looked around. ‘I’m going to get this branch off you first, so you can breathe better. Then we can get a closer look.’
‘Great.’ Mike grunted. ‘Just make sure it’s not holding up the tree.’
‘It’s not. There’s a good-sized branch wedging it.’
‘Good. Cut this one off, then, because I really can’t breathe. The chainsaw’s about somewhere.’
He got up, and Ben took his place, hands running confidently over Mike’s body. ‘Tell me what hurts.’
‘My leg? My pride?’
‘Idiot. Not your back? Only your legs?’
‘No, my back’s fine—well, in comparison to my legs. The right one, anyway—and, believe me, it’s enough,’ he said, fighting down bile and wondering how the hell Joe was going to get him out. The scream of the saw sounded, and the pressure on his back and ribs eased, but it didn’t take away the other pain.
‘What kind of pain is it?’ Ben was asking. ‘Sharp? Sickening? Dull? Raw? Tender?’
‘No. More—excruciatingly sharp. And sickening, yeah.’
‘Right. Sounds like a fracture.’
‘Feels like it, but I’m not an expert.’
‘Can you feel your foot?’
He gave a choked laugh. ‘All too well.’
‘That’s good.’
Good? Mike snorted and turned his face down, resting his head on the back of his hand and closing his eyes. He felt sick—sick and scared. If he’d died, what would have happened to Fran? Or the farm? Joe couldn’t cope alone, and his father was too old to want to start all over again. He’d just retired, handed over the reins to his sons and put his feet up.
That damn tree had better not fall any further, he thought, and, craning his neck, he saw Joe shifting logs, making a
‘Oh, I’ll call you later—’
‘No! I mean—really stuck. I’m lying under a tree.’
There was a pause. ‘As in lying under a tree on the grass, contemplating the meaning of life, or—?’
‘Lying under a fallen tree that I was cutting up,’ Mike finished for him. ‘Sort of literally stuck. And I think my leg might be broken, and the tree’s not stable.’
Just to underline that fact, the tree groaned again, and he felt sweat break out all over him. ‘I’m down by the river—only a short way from you over the fields, but you’ll need help. I’m trying to get hold of Joe, but maybe we need the fire brigade—they’ve got a few strong lads who could help shift this thing.’
‘Tell me where to come, and I’ll get them on their way, too,’ Ben said, his voice all calm business, and Mike felt his confidence like a soothing hand.
‘Out of your drive, turn left, down the hill to the river, then there’s a track to the right. Follow it—shut the gates behind you—and you’ll find me there. You’ll see the pickup and hear the dog barking.’
‘Right. Are you bleeding?’
He considered that for a second. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘OK. Stay still, don’t move and I’ll be with you.’
‘Like I can move,’ he said, but the line was dead, and he tried Joe again, getting him this time. Joe’s language was colourful, and he could hear the fear in his brother’s voice, but he’d know what to do and how to get him out, and he could use the chainsaw.
They arrived simultaneously, Joe on the tractor, Ben in his BMW, grounding on the track, and Mike felt a stupid, stupid urge to cry with relief.
‘Nice one, guys,’ he said, cracking a grin, and Joe swore and knelt down beside him, reaching through the twigs covering him to squeeze his shoulder hard.
‘Stupid bastard. This tree’s huge, far too big to tackle alone—why didn’t you call me?’
‘I did. Several times. You weren’t answering.’
Joe swore again. ‘Sorry, I was clearing the auger. Right, let’s have a look at this tree. If I could only get the tractor in here I could lift it off you with the forks, but there isn’t enough room. The other trees are too close.’
‘So what’s plan B?’
Joe looked around. ‘I’m going to get this branch off you first, so you can breathe better. Then we can get a closer look.’
‘Great.’ Mike grunted. ‘Just make sure it’s not holding up the tree.’
‘It’s not. There’s a good-sized branch wedging it.’
‘Good. Cut this one off, then, because I really can’t breathe. The chainsaw’s about somewhere.’
He got up, and Ben took his place, hands running confidently over Mike’s body. ‘Tell me what hurts.’
‘My leg? My pride?’
‘Idiot. Not your back? Only your legs?’
‘No, my back’s fine—well, in comparison to my legs. The right one, anyway—and, believe me, it’s enough,’ he said, fighting down bile and wondering how the hell Joe was going to get him out. The scream of the saw sounded, and the pressure on his back and ribs eased, but it didn’t take away the other pain.
‘What kind of pain is it?’ Ben was asking. ‘Sharp? Sickening? Dull? Raw? Tender?’
‘No. More—excruciatingly sharp. And sickening, yeah.’
‘Right. Sounds like a fracture.’
‘Feels like it, but I’m not an expert.’
‘Can you feel your foot?’
He gave a choked laugh. ‘All too well.’
‘That’s good.’
Good? Mike snorted and turned his face down, resting his head on the back of his hand and closing his eyes. He felt sick—sick and scared. If he’d died, what would have happened to Fran? Or the farm? Joe couldn’t cope alone, and his father was too old to want to start all over again. He’d just retired, handed over the reins to his sons and put his feet up.
That damn tree had better not fall any further, he thought, and, craning his neck, he saw Joe shifting logs, making a
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