The Wait
I had recovered the list from under my pillow then dressed and with careful steps, aided by a walking frame, followed Fianna to the street. The splint was off, but the pain was still there. When we arrived at Salvatore"s I waved her on before me as I paid the cab fare. She obeyed under protest, carrying on with her complaint as I caught up with her inside the restaurant. She was at the counter ordering.
“That stubborn side of yours could have led to a fall, Shaun. How does your foot feel?”
“A little sore, but on the whole, fine, thanks. Can I get some water to go with that coffee, I"m gasping!”
“How about your face?” she asked.
“I"ll manage with a straw. I"ll tell you more after I"ve eaten.”
“I"ve ordered you some porridge.”
“I hate porridge! Lumpy wallpaper paste! Anyway,
