Odd Socks Read Online Free PDF Page A

him. ‘C’mon, Sven, give us a hand.’
    Sven laughs good-naturedly at his partner before grinning down at Stephen and slowly releasing him. I briefly consider fainting to get some attention but reject the idea because, knowing my luck, Bill would give me mouth-to-mouth. Sven straightens up and, with his partner, pulls the stretcher over next to Bronte. They expertly pull a lever or two and fold it down to floor level.
    â€˜Now, young lady, we’re going to lift you and bubs up onto this contraption and whisk you off to hospital so you can get the once-over. Okay?’
    â€˜And I’ll follow in my car,’ I say to Bronte as I pass over her tracksuit pants, ‘so I’ll meet you there.’
    â€˜There’s no need unless you have to,’ Bill says, glancing at me again and obviously still not all that pleased with what he sees. ‘Your daughter and the bubs will both just be given a check-up and then put straight to bed.’
    â€˜Oh. What do you think, Bronte?’
    â€˜He’s right, Mum,’ Bronte says, trying to insert her little finger into her daughter’s grasp. ‘Like, I’m sure we’ll be fine. You should just go back to bed and come in later.’
    â€˜ Much later,’ adds Bill, looking at me as if I’ve been keeping Bronte up needlessly. ‘She needs her rest. And, madam?’
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜You are exposing yourself again .’
    I look down and, sure enough, my left breast has made yet another partial bid for freedom. I readjust my dressing-gown but, because it is so weighted by dampness around the hem, it is difficult to keep it quite as together as usual. Accordingly, I fold my arms across my chest and glare back at Bill.
    â€˜Thank you so much for pointing that out,’ I say. ‘ So helpful.’
    â€˜My pleasure,’ he replies sanctimoniously as he follows Sven and the stretcher towards the front door. Stephen jumps up quickly and helpfully rushes ahead to open the door. And then, before I can even give Bronte a kiss, they have lifted the stretcher across the threshold and are wheeling it down the garden path. Stephen, who is still propping the door open, suddenly spots his reflection in the hall mirror and gives a shriek.
    â€˜Oh, my lord !’
    â€˜You don’t look that bad,’ I reply, distracted by the imminent departure of my daughter and her newborn child. ‘Just like you’ve had a bit of an adventure, that’s all.’
    â€˜My dear Teresa . . .’ Stephen tucks tufts of dark hair fastidiously under his beanie and then turns this way and that to check the effect. ‘I don’t want to have adventures , schnooks – just adventur ers .’
    â€˜Really.’
    â€˜Yes, just think of me as a reward. Like the spoils of war. And now –’ Stephen gives his reflection an approving nod before turning to me with a smug smile ‘– I’m off to help the guys because I think I’m in with a chance there. Wish me luck!’
    â€˜Good luck!’ I say agreeably, although I bet it’s considered bad etiquette to pick up ambulance guys at the scene. And if it isn’t, it should be. Wrapping my damp dressing-gown aroundme firmly, I hug myself with both arms because it’s still pitch dark outside and very, very cold. My toes move past freezing towards that numbness that’s the first stage of frostbite. I watch Stephen hurrying up the path to offer his totally unnecessary assistance and wonder if he realises his beanie glows in the dark. What with that, and the fact his black satin pyjamas can hardly be seen, he resembles nothing more than a mobile neon streetlight.
    â€˜Bye, Bronte! See you soon!’ I call, waving at my daughter as she is lifted into the back of the ambulance. ‘I’ll be there in a few hours!’
    â€˜Bye, Mum.’ Bronte finally takes her attention from the baby long enough to give me a little wave.