Liam had popped out to the cashpoint to withdraw the rent money. While he was gone Beril, our neighbour, ran into our shared garden shouting for help. I leapt from the radiating sofa, slipped on my flip flops, followed her out of the gate and along the narrow lane that runs along the side of our cottage. Beril led me through the large ornamental gate that lead to Sofiya’s courtyard. I found pedigreed Sofiya heaped in a flower bed. Her knees were blackened and bloodied, her white delicate cotton dress crumpled and muddied. Her grimaced face gave the pain away. I examined her wounds. Fortunately, they seemed no more than a graze and she was able to move her legs.

I galloped back down the lane, through our gate and back into the house. I nearly tripped myself on my wobbly, flopping footwear. I quickly washed my hands then returned with antiseptic cream, kitchen towel, large plaster dressings, paracetamol and water. I gently washed Sofiya’s wounds with the towel soaked in bottled water, unscrewed the cap of the cream and dabbed the ointment onto the cuts. She winced a little but otherwise seemed calmed by my attention. We gently lifted her from the bedding and Beril helped place Sofiya’s arm over my shoulder. I held her firmly round the waist as she hobbled across the garden to the ramshackle conservatory. I gently lowered onto a floral sofa and went in search of the kitchen. Beril followed behind. I located the fridge, opened up the freezer compartment and removed a tray of ice. Beril immediately understood my intention and hunted around the busy kitchen for a plastic bag. She found one wedged at the back of a deep pan drawer. We filled the bag with ice and returned to the patient. Beril placed the cold press against Sofiya’s knees.

‘You must be careful. One fall might carry you off,’ I said.

‘Me, darling? No, I’m invincible.’

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