Limp Dicks & Saggy Tits

by Tracie Podger

  Neither had dogs, there wasn’t a gun carrier thingy between them, and they sure didn’t look like they were meant to be there. Maggie had told me that Ronan and Charlie shot the deer that went to market, but they didn’t hold organised shoots. Poachers. They had to be poachers. I fumbled around for my phone and pressed the video. I doubted they could be easily identified but who knew. As they started to walk my way, I zoomed in to get the best headshots I could. They were blurry, and it was more because my hand was shaking than having a poor camera.

  I watched as they paused and then turned to face back the way they’d come. I covered my mouth as a deer—it could have been the one I saw earlier—crossed the path. I watched as they slowly lowered to their knees, and one raised his gun.

  “Please run,” I whispered. The deer didn’t seem to be overly fazed.

  I couldn’t stand there and watch. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to see a deer shot, although I didn’t, it was because I didn’t believe they had the right to.

  “What are you doing?” I shouted. I must have startled the one with the gun, a shot rang off, and I screamed, the deer ran.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I shouted again, fear making me a little more brazen than I should have been.

  Neither answered me as I stepped from around the tree. “I’ve photographed you. I’ve forward that to the police, just now,” I lied, holding my phone up as evidence.

  Both stood. One turned and took a couple of steps towards me. I held my ground, but I was convinced he’d see my legs shake. I was sure I would piss myself if he took another step. His friend grabbed his arm and dragged him in the other direction.

  “Go on, run,” I shouted, as they did.

  I stumbled back to the tree and leaned against is. “Oh, fuck,” I said, realisation hitting me. I turned to walk back the way I came, holding my phone aloft when I realised I didn’t have one bar of signal.

  I started to run, which wasn’t the easiest in wellies and a long coat that wrapped around my legs. I felt like I was wading in treacle as my boots became heavy with attached mud. I soon tired and came back to a walk. As I did, my foot slipped down into a hole, and I twisted my ankle. I cried out as heat was immediately followed by ice-cold pain. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I fell. I landed heavily on my hip, jarring my shoulder as I reached out and locked my arm to save myself.

  “Oh, fuck,” I said, pushing myself into a sitting position.

  I could feel the boot tighten around my ankle and knew it was swelling badly. I managed to push myself into a kneeling position, all the while still holding my mud-covered phone. I got to my feet and knew instantly I was in trouble. I couldn’t put any weight on my left foot. I dragged it to the edge of the track, using a tree to support myself. I started to cry, and it was only then that I noticed the weak winter sun was beginning to lower. Dark clouds were rolling in on the horizon. All I needed was a crack of lightning and the clap of thunder, and I’d be screwed.

  The pain was taking my breath away. I tried to suck in large gulps of air and closed my eyes to focus on my body and try to ignore the pain. I realised very quickly that was all rubbish. The more I tried to meditate, the more the pain in my ankle reminded me I’d been an idiot.

  I checked my phone again. The signal was flipping between zero and one bar. I thought I might be able to get out a text.

  Ronan, I came across some poachers. I scared them off, but I fell. I’ve twisted my ankle I think, and I can’t walk. I don’t know where I am. I thought I was heading to the gatehouse, but I walked over an hour, and I didn’t see it. I don’t know what to do.

  Before I could press send, the signal went. I tried but received an exclamation mark indicating it hadn’t sent. I knew I had to move. I reached out to the next tree and hopped, and then again. Where the gap between trees was too large, I dragged my leg, causing such excruciating pain that I screamed out loud. I began to wonder if I’d broken it.

  I heard a beep, and I wept with relief as I saw the message logged as sent. I had no idea how many tracks there were that ran through the woods, but I suspected that there wouldn’t be many. I knew the one to the glamping art area was narrower, maybe that would give him a clue. I typed out a second text.

  The track I’m on is wide with tyre marks, not the same one to the glamping area.

  It didn’t send, and it was as I looked at my phone, I started to panic. I had five per cent battery. I hardly used my mobile, so I was notorious for letting the battery run down. Joe used to moan constantly at me. He wanted me to upgrade, blaming my short battery life on my ancient handset and telling me about a gazillion newer versions. At that moment, I wished that I’d listened to him.

  I knew I had to keep moving. I hadn’t deviated off the track, so it was a straight route back, but it was how far I’d get before that black cloud deposited whatever it was harbouring and my ankle gave up. The tightness of the boot was adding to the painful swelling, and I believed I’d have to cut it off.

  The already low temperature dropped further, and the black cloud that had been tracking me decided to make my day even worse. Big fat droplets of rain pelted down around me. I checked my phone to see a black screen, and I placed it in my pocket. I sobbed as I trudged on until I wasn’t watching and tripped again. I fell, and all I could do was to drag myself until I rested against a tree. I tried to slide off the boot, thinking it might ease the pain, but it was firmly stuck. I pulled my knees up into my coat, making sure to cover myself. All I could then do was wait. I knew I’d be found. I just wasn’t sure how long it would take.

  I rested my head back on the tree, confident the brim of the hat was wide enough to keep my face mostly dry, but the splash back when the cold raindrops hit my arms stung like little pinpricks. I’d stopped crying but had started to shiver as the cold was seeping into my bones. I gently sang to myself, not caring whether I was in tune or not. And when I didn’t want to sing anymore, I sat in silence, straining my ears for any sound of rescue. I couldn’t hear the birds anymore, but I could hear the gentle rustle of the last remaining leaves and the bushes as the breeze started to pick up.

  I wasn’t surprised when darkness crept over me. I watched it. Looking down the track, I could see the sun set and as it did, it dragged its weak rays with it. The light was chased off by the night. I felt despondent and incredibly stupid. I’d stomped off, doing a Greta Garbo and stating that I wanted to be alone, and I hadn’t thought to check my phone had enough battery, or to even tell someone where I was heading to be alone. Other than the rain hitting the ground, there were no other sounds, and I started to get spooked.

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to see if anything nasty was creeping up on me. In my mind, the wood was awash with axe murderers and poachers that wanted to shoot me.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d sat for. My body was stiff with the cold. I’d gone beyond shivering and even for a townie with central heating and never having experienced the cold, I knew that was dangerous. I needed to move, but I just couldn’t get myself up. I was beyond crying—the tears were frozen in their ducts. I believed that when I raised my head, I could hear the crack of frozen bones moving. I needed to move, even if that meant crawling. I had to start making my way back on the track. I began to doubt that Ronan had received the message. I didn’t think it would take so long to find me. I pressed against the tree to give me some leverage to stand.

  As before, I stumbled from tree to tree. The driving rain blurred my vision, and it wasn’t long before even the moonlight I’d been able to navigate by, deserted me. I stood for a while, letting my eyes adjust to my ever-darkening surroundings and whimpered with fear, cold, and desperation. I thought I’d made good strides. I thought I’d taken step after step, but I wasn’t sure. I fell again, that time, through sheer exhaustion.

  I screamed. The pain that ripped through me made me heave. I felt hands on me, and I was turned. I threw up. I was sure I could hear Maggie gently talking to me. My face was wiped, and then it was back to not
hing but warmth and darkness.

  I opened my eyes to a room that was subtly lit with green light. I shuffled and realised I was on a bed. I turned my head to see machines; the green light was emitted from them. The smell was clinical. I was in hospital. I used my hands to push myself into a sitting position. I was desperate to pee, so much that I had an ache in my stomach. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw Ronan slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. His jeans were dirty. He had removed his boots, and I could see his brown socks. He wore a blue woollen jumper that had risen slightly above the waistband of his jeans. I coughed, not to wake him, but because my throat was sore. He didn’t stir. I sighed. In the movies or my erotic novels, the hero would have woken—or not even been asleep in the first place—and would have leapt from their chair to be beside the heroine’s side. Not Ronan. He did shift, but that was to break wind.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,” I whispered, trying to swing my legs over the side of the bed. That was when I realised one was in plaster.

  I fumbled around for a nurse call button and pressed. Ronan snuffled and shifted again. I wanted to throw something at him.

  “Hi, you’re awake,” the nurse said, whispering.

  “I need to pee,” I said, not bothering to whisper. I was the one in need, not Ronan.

  “I don’t think we can let you out of bed just now, so I’ll grab a pan, okay?”

  I nodded and waited while she left the room. I looked at him, and the more I did, the more I saw the dishevelled hair and the mud on his face and hands. He hadn’t taken the time to clean himself up at all, which was probably why he had no boots on.

  “He’s been here all night. We couldn’t get him to leave, so we gave up and let him stay,” the nurse whispered when she returned.

  I gripped the sides of the bed and lifted my arse. It wasn’t how I wanted to pee, but it was the only choice I was given. She slid the plastic pan under, and I held myself in a horizontal squat that killed every single muscle in my thighs and stomach to the point that peeing was difficult.

  “You can rest down,” she said.

  “Yeah, and then it will tip over, and I’ll be lying in my own…”

  “Hey, you’re awake,” I heard.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Okay, so now we need to clean you up,” the nurse said with a laugh.

  Ronan had startled me, and as I’d turned to look, one arse cheek had slid off the pan, and it had tipped mid-flow. Having a fifty-year-old bladder wasn’t anywhere near the same as a twenty-year-old. There was no stopping mid-flow; there was no pelvic floor control at all. I continue to pee over the bed.

  Ronan stood and, in complete ignorance that I had just peed the bed, walked over. He took one of my hands in his and leaned down.

  His soft lips covered mine. “Jesus, Lizzie. I was so fucking scared,” he whispered, and his voice was hoarse.

  “I texted,” I said.

  “I know. I’d left my phone on charge in the kitchen. We had started to get worried about you. Charlie and I searched locally and then Maggie saw my phone and checked for messages. I kept ringing, but yours was off,” he said quietly.

  I started to cry, and the nurse removed the pan.

  “Oh, you were…” he said as he glanced down.

  “Yes, now shut up, please.” I continued to cry.

  Ronan leaned over me, kissed my lips again, and then my eyelids. “Hey, you’re safe now.” He brushed my fringe from my forehead and then kissed it.

  “If you can give us a minute, please,” the nurse said.

  “Yes…sorry…of course…I’ll call Maggie,” he said and then slipped on the polished floor as he scuttled from the room.

  “He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he?” she said, as she rolled me and whipped out all the bed linen in an instant.

  She had me washed, redressed in another fetching arse-exposing hospital gown—what on earth was the point of those things—and a clean sheet back on the bed before he returned. He came in with two takeout cups of coffee. The nurse left after telling me that she’d rustle up some toast.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving.”

  “Here, have this, and I’ll see what’s in the vending machine,” he replied, handing me a cup.

  “Ronan, it’s fine, just sit with me, please?”

  He pulled up the chair and took my hand again. “You scared the living daylights out of me,” he said. His gaze held mine.

  “I scared the living daylights out of myself.”

  “I want to say, don’t do that again, but I let you go, and I could kick myself for that,” he said, his voice was full of remorse.

  “I’m fifty-years-old—a big girl. I wanted to take a walk, and it was my fault not to check my phone.” I started to cry again and thought it was just pure relief. “So, what happened?” I asked.

  “Charlie and I had been out on the bikes, searching in different directions. Maggie called through to Charlie, and he came and found me. We took the logging route. I found you face down and semi-conscious. You were flown here. You’ve broken your ankle, but I think you might have known that. They knocked you out so they could straighten it. But they were more concerned you might be suffering from hypothermia.”

  “I stopped shivering, and then knew I was in trouble,” I whispered. “What time is it?” I looked out the window to see the sun starting to rise.

  He looked at his watch. “Just coming up to seven, in the morning,” he said.

  I was taken into the hospital the previous evening, and I must have slept the whole night, thanks to the residual anaesthetic effects. I was grateful for it. I had flashbacks to feeling so cold and being wrapped in something akin to foil. I had no recollection of being flown, and I think I would have enjoyed that experience.

  “Joe is here,” he said.

  “With Danny?”

  “No, on his own.”

  We fell silent for a while. I rested back, and he ran his thumb over the hand he was still holding. It was a comfort, and I started to doze. That was until the nurse reappeared with an anaemic looking piece of toast and a cup of tea that was more like hot milk.

  “I don’t think I can drink that,” I said, placing the tea to one side, but I nibbled on the toast. It quelled the nausea a little.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzie. This is all my fault.”

  “I tripped, that’s not your fault.”

  “You wouldn’t have been there had I not had my head up my arse. You’re right, though. I need to take some time to grieve and get my shit together. Joe is going to take you home,” he said, bowing his head and avoiding my gaze.

  I reached over to him and placed my hand on the side of his face. “I think that’s a wise thing to do, Ronan. You need to let go of the past before you even stand a chance at happiness.”

  He simply nodded. “Maybe, in a few…” he started.

  “No time limit, Ronan. Don’t put a time on it. You need to take however long it will take. There’s one thing I need you to do for me…” I started to cry again. “You need to go now.” My voice cracked, and although he didn’t look up at me, he nodded.

  He stood and raised my hand to kiss my knuckles. “Goodbye, Lizzie,” he said.

  I didn’t reply, I wasn’t able to, but I watched him walk, with slumped shoulders, to the door and leave without a backward glance.

  “Hey, what’s all this?” I heard.

  I looked up to see Joe walk in. Ronan had been gone an hour or so, and I was still crying. The doctor had been in, checked me over, and told me I was fit to leave, although I wasn’t sure he realised I was leaving for London.

  “I’m ready to go home, they said. But I don’t have any clothes here,” I whimpered.

  Joe held up a small holdall. “He packed my bags?” I asked.

  “Maggie put this together, I believe. She left a note in there as well. Come on, let’s get you dressed and home.”

  “I fell for him, and I shouldn’t have,” I said, quietly.
r />   A nurse helped me dress. Joe insisted on pushing the wheelchair I’d been told I had to exit the hospital in. I laid the crutches over my lap; careful not to take out the legs of everyone we passed. Joe pushed me towards a sleek, silver Audi.

  “I hired it. I thought it might be more comfortable for the journey home,” he said, sadly.

  I nodded. “I’ll have Maggie courier down my other things. Thank you for coming to get me. I know it’s a long drive.”

  “I flew up last night, stayed at the castle. Fuck me, Lizzie, what a place. Needs an overhaul, I told Ronan that, but, boy, it was impressive.” He settled me into the car, but I tuned out. I wasn’t interested in his enthusiasm for Ronan’s house. I just wanted to get home and lick my wounds.

  I slept on and off. We stopped at the services twice so Joe could grab coffee and refuel. He helped me hobble to the disabled toilet and offered to come in, but I assured him I could pull my own trousers and knickers down, even while balancing on a plaster cast foot. I walked back out to meet Joe, who had two coffees and some sandwiches. We sat in the car, and I devoured a dry, unappetising sandwich, and drank the coffee. We did that mostly in silence.

  It was dark when Joe escorted me from the Audi and Danny met us at the door. Each took a side of me and they helped me to my flat. I was in my fleecy PJs, and Danny had made tea. He seemed different. Gone was the cockiness. Instead, he was full of concern for me. He made me smile by calling Ronan a cock and telling me that he’d never liked him, despite only meeting him once or twice. Maybe he wasn’t all bad. Perhaps I had him completely wrong. There certainly seemed to be so many sides to him, but the one I liked the most was the one that gave Joe such a look of love that my heart missed a beat on their behalf.

  “I’ll leave you to get settled. Joe, I’ll see you later, yes?” Danny asked, and the earnest look in his face made me smile.

  “Yes, I’ll be over later,” Joe replied, and for once he seemed a little reserved, shy even.