When I make it to the wooden fence I realise just how high it is. I can't find the hole she went through but I’m sure it was this garden. I can hear her whimpering on the other side.
I glance up at the tree next to me. I haven’t climbed a tree since I was a teenager and Sean King convinced me there was a butterfly nest worth seeing. What a gullible idiot; the only thing he showed me up there was something far less pretty and definitely not worth seeing.
I wrap my arms around it and straddle it with my legs, but I struggle, feeling splinters digging into my fingers. I hoist myself up as far as I can, with my legs wrapped tightly around the bark, and then I see her over the fence. The poor thing looks at me, confused and scared, drenched from the rain.
‘Don't worry Toffee. I’m going to get you,’ I shout, desperately trying to find a way though to her.
I can see the tiny hole that she went through now, but there’s no way I’d get through that. Getting stuck trying won't help anything. I climb carefully back down and walk over to the tiny gap, sticking my head through, trying to coax her.
‘Come on Toffee. I’ve got a treat for you.’ I fumble in my pocket for something, anything, but of course it's empty.
The rain is coming down so thick and loud that I’m not sure if she can even hear me. I look around for someone to help me, but the place is deserted. Where are all the joggers that were here a few minutes ago? And where the hell is Izzy?
‘Izzy! Izzy! I shout, but the pathetic sound that escapes my throat sounds more like a sob. I’m just so tired. Tired of things like this happening to me.
I get my phone out of my pocket, but of course the battery is dead. My throat starts contracting, the lump in it getting bigger by the second. Try not to cry.
Why did this have to happen!? What am I going to do? I can't leave her here to get help; what if when we get back she’s gone? I give in to the tears, letting them fall down my face as I think about how I’d break it to Ryan that I’d lost his Grandma’s dog. In fact, I don't think I’ll ever be able to go back. I’ll have to run away too.
No – think calmly! There must be something I can do. I look around, desperate to come up with a solution. The only thing that seems to be offering any kind of solution is the tree. I suppose I could try and lower myself into the garden from it. Maybe hold onto the washing line or something.
I suck at my bleeding friction burn on my hand and then grip the tree, hauling myself up it. I straddle it with my legs and try to ignore every pain I’m feeling in my hands. They’re just superficial pains. The pain I’ll feel if I lose this dog will be far worse.
I climb until I’m by a branch over hanging the garden and I can see a washing line filled with old bras and knickers. They mustn’t be in; if they were, surely they would have run out to save their washing. I shimmy along the thick branch and try not to look directly down or think about how it wobbles every time I move. All the while I try to keep my eyes locked on Toffee, whose tail is wagging as if she’s amused by this show I’m putting on for her.
I accidentally glance down and feel dizzy from how high I am. I try to focus myself and breathe deeply. My hands are shaking as I grip onto the branch and try to lower myself down, using every muscle in my body. Why couldn’t I be stronger? Note to self: book in a body pump class.
‘Poppy!’
My head automatically swivels round to see Izzy running towards me. My hand slips and I lose my grip, feeling myself falling. The helpless feeling of not having some part of me on the ground is enough for me to close my eyes, knowing that this is going to hurt.
When I open my eyes I can hear Izzy frantically shouting my name. I must try to regain my senses. I’m wet, cold and lying in mud. Was I knocked unconscious? I sit up and sudden sharp pain shoots through my ankle, making my head spin. Toffee jumps on my lap and for once I’m glad to see her. I grab hold of her in my arms, trying not to think about how sharp her claws are.
‘Poppy! Are you OK?’ Izzy shouts from over the fence, her voice seeming to break from stress.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ I close my eyes and try to hear through the ringing in my ears. ‘I just need to figure out a way out of here,’ I shout over the thudding rain.
‘Pass me Toffee through the hole,’ she orders.
I try to get up again but the pain shoots through my ankle as if I’m being stabbed by a thousand knives. What the hell have I done to myself? I crawl over to the hole, careful not to put any pressure on my ankle and pass Toffee out to her.
‘How the hell am I going to get out?’ I shout, wincing from the pain of my own voice.
‘You’re going to have to climb back over,’ she says, looking doubtful.
‘I can’t! My ankle’s agony.’
‘I’ll have to call someone to help us.’ She gets her phone out of her pocket.
But I can't wait. I’m too wet and cold to be waiting for someone to save me. Before I can think what I’m doing, I punch the fence with my bare hands, ripping at it with all of my force. The weak rickety wood rocks unsteadily and I manage to get enough shards off it so that I might just get through. I lie on my stomach and begin to crawl through, trying to block out the idea of the mud and possible insects deciding to move into my pants. I’m almost half way out when I seem to run out of floor.
‘Help, I’m stuck,’ I shout, not quite believing how ridiculous my life is.
‘You’re joking?’ she asks, a smile threatening to break on her face.
‘I swear to God. If you laugh I’ll kill you,’ but the giggles rise in me too.
Izzy drops to her knees in hysterics.
‘Come on Toffee, let’s dig her out,’ she says, hoping that this will be the day she learns how to speak human. ‘Come on; stop being so well trained for once.’
‘Izzy, she’s not holding back. She just doesn’t know what the fuck you’re on about.’
‘Well I’m sorry for trying to help,’ she snaps.
‘HEY YOU!’ an angry voice shouts from behind us. ‘Get out of my fucking garden!’
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, too scared to move.
Izzy jumps up and down trying to see across the fence.
‘Shit. It's a woman and she seems really pissed off. Quickly, get out of there!’
‘I can't!’
‘I’m calling the police! Do you hear me? THE POLICE!’
I’ve only one option. I’m going to have to dig myself out. I brace myself for the mess, take a deep breath and plunge my hands into the wet slippery mud, dragging it from side to side.
‘You could help you know,’ I shout at her.
‘I would,’ she says, holding up her French tips. ‘But I’ve just had a manicure.’
Chapter 20
A warm hand on my face wakes me up.
‘Poppy, wake up.’
I open my eyes to see Ryan hovering over me, confusion and amusement all over his face.
‘Hi,’ I croak, shivering from the cold.
‘So....do you wanna explain or...do I have to guess?’ A smile is threatening to show on the corner of his mouth.
I sit up and look around. Toffee is curled up on my stomach, her cream and brown coat still covered in mud. The carpet is covered in muddy foot prints from both me and Toffee. I’m still in my wet clothes, my hair stuck together with clumps of dried mud.
‘Ah. It’s a bit of a long story,’ I say, my voice a squeak.
‘Well, at least you don't seem scared of Toffee anymore.’ He strokes her head affectionately.
‘It turns out I’m the biggest danger to myself.’ I stand up and immediately wince from the pain in my ankle. ‘Fuck.’ I hold if off the floor to take the pressure off the pain.
‘What's wrong with your foot?’ he asks, his forehead creasing in concern.
‘Part of the long story,’ I say, barely having the energy to roll my eyes. ‘I’m fine though.’
I try to walk again, but when I put it back on the floor the pain is unbearable, freezing me to the spot and bringing water to my eyes.
‘Sit down,’ he orders, pushing me roughly back onto the coach. He takes hold of my ankle and pulls off my muddy trainer.
‘Ouch!’ I say ungratefully, almost kicking him in the face.
He pulls off my sock and I nearly pass out from the size of it. It's swollen to nearly twice the size and is a deep purple colour.
‘Fuck,’ I blurt out, surprised.
‘Yeah, fuck indeed. Maybe you should see a doctor.’
‘Nah, I’m fine. I’ll just have a shower and put some ice on it.’
I take my foot away from him and stand up, trying unsuccessfully to hobble out of the room. One step is all it takes for me to realise that this is impossible, the pain almost blinding me. I stand there, silent but too embarrassed to look back and ask for help. Maybe I could discreetly crawl out of the room and he wouldn’t notice.
‘You really are stubborn.’ He exhales sharply and walks round to the front of me. ‘Come on.’
He bends down and throws me over his shoulder into a fire man’s lift, dangling me upside down.
‘Put me down! I hate being upside down – please! I’m gonna be sick!’ I yell desperately.
‘Be sick then,’ he says, chuckling to himself.
He walks up the stairs and ignores my squirming and weak punches. I eventually give up and let him carry me the last few steps to the bathroom in silence as all of the blood rushes to my head.