All I Want For Autumn

by Clare Lydon

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Clare

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Also By Clare

  Did You Enjoy This Book?

  Acknowledgements

  ALL I WANT FOR AUTUMN

  (All I Want Book 5)

  BY

  CLARE LYDON

  First Edition September 2016

  Published by Custard Books

  Copyright © 2016 Clare Lydon

  Cover Design: Kevin Pruitt

  Editor: Laura Kingsley

  Copy Editor: Gill Mullins

  Find out more at: www.clarelydon.co.uk

  Follow me on Twitter: @clarelydon

  Follow me on Instagram: @clarefic

  All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters & happenings in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons (living or dead), locales or events is purely coincidental.

  Also By Clare Lydon

  The All I Want Series

  All I Want For Christmas (Book 1)

  All I Want For Valentine’s (Book 2)

  All I Want For Spring (Book 3)

  All I Want For Summer (Book 4)

  All I Want Series Boxset, Books 1-3

  The London Series

  London Calling (Book 1)

  This London Love (Book 2)

  Other Novels

  The Long Weekend

  Nothing To Lose: A Lesbian Romance

  Sign up to my mailing list to never miss another release and you’ll get four free bonuses!

  Autumn is my favourite season of the year: sunshine, crisp mornings and the Christmas run-up. What could be better?

  So if you’re a fellow Autumn-lover, here’s to a fantastic couple of months ahead!

  Chapter 1

  Holly opened her eyelids wearily: where was she? She heard voices, saw hazy shapes, then she let her eyelids flicker shut. Everything hurt. Everything. She tried opening her eyes again, but the ache inside her head was immense, and there was a buzzing in her brain. Her tongue felt the size of an ocean liner, her teeth icebergs it kept crashing into. Everything was so heavy, and the pain was strobing from her calves to her eyeballs; shocks of pain so frequent, she thought she might pass out.

  Why was she hurting so much?

  There were voices now, urgent and barking. A siren, making her head hurt even more. She was trying to piece things together, but nothing made sense: all she knew was she’d never felt this much pain in her entire life.

  “Holly? Can you hear me, Holly?”

  It wasn’t a voice she recognised, but it sounded in control. The voice was a glassy lake, cool against her skin.

  Holly went to answer, to move her head, but nothing happened. Why couldn’t she move her head?

  “Can you hear me, Holly?”

  She tried again. Still nothing.

  Oh sweet baby Jesus, was she paralysed? Fucking hell, she’d cry if she was. She tried to wriggle her toes but couldn’t get anything to move. There was just pain, and nothing else. Pain all over her, like a sheet of corrugated iron crushing her into the ground.

  “Holly? If you can’t speak or move your head, just blink for me.”

  Just blink. Surely she could do that? If she couldn’t, she was in trouble.

  Deep trouble.

  A darkness swirled above her. Keep it together and blink. She herded her thoughts and, with all her might, she managed to blink.

  At least, she thought she had. Had it worked?

  “Good, you did it,” said the voice.

  Holly’s mouth didn’t feel like her own. All she could taste was blood, coating every inch of her tooth enamel, thick, curdling.

  Then there was a hand on her arm: she could feel that.

  “Don’t try to speak now, Holly,” said the voice, still strong, calm. “You’ve been in an accident. We’re going to put you onto this scoop stretcher before we lift you onto something more stable, and then we’re going to get you into the ambulance and to the hospital, okay?”

  Holly’s brain clouded over again, like a typical British summer’s day. Then something was being slid under her, and there was a snapping sound. She hoped that was the stretcher and not any part of her body. Then she felt her leg move and all manner of pain alarms triggered inside her brain. She went to cry out, but again, nothing happened. She must have made some sound though, because somebody squeezed her hand.

  “You’re doing really well, babe.” Tori! A voice she recognised, mixed in with the seething, writhing hurt.

  Holly tried to respond, but the clouds returned.

  “Once we get you in the ambulance, we’ll give you something for the pain,” said the voice.

  Pain relief sounded better than a five-course menu in a Michelin-starred restaurant right now.

  “On three: one, two, three…”

  She was on the move and if she thought she’d been in pain before, it was nothing compared to that brief moment. A blinding shard of hurt rappelled through her body, slicing all the way down, then all the way back up.

  She heard a noise, a groaning. Was that her?

  And then, there was nothing.

  Chapter 2

  When Holly woke up again, she couldn’t move her head: there was something holding it in place. She was lying flat and there was a mask over her nose and mouth. She tried to breathe, but her airway seemed blocked. Panic sparked through her body, then she heard a noise, followed by a woman with short, red hair leaning over and adjusting her mask.

  “You’re okay, Holly.” A face to the voice. “Everything’s fine. You blacked out for a while there, but we’re on the way to hospital.”

  Then familiar features loomed over her: Tori.

  “Oh, thank god,” Tori said, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were watery and she needed a tissue. She sniffed before she spoke. “Are you okay? We’re on the way to hospital and they’re going to get you fixed up like new.”

  Tori gave her an over-the-top smile, then squeezed her hand: she could feel it. That was a good sign: maybe she wasn’t paralysed. Holly went to speak, but the words died in her throat.

  “If you could speak to her, try to keep her awake, that’s best,” said the paramedic over her head.

  Tori’s fingers tightened again. “Sweetheart, you need to try to stay awake.” Another squeeze. “Try to stay with me till we get to the hospital. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  But Tori didn’t sound very convincing.

  Holly’s vision was better now, but the throbbing pain was still there. Her stomach was on fire and something was squashing her legs — something not right. The pain currently searing up her left-hand side was a solid distraction, waves of destruction crashing onto her, almost short-circ
uiting her brain. She had to think of something else. Something that wasn’t her body, something she could control. Something to take her mind off the fact she was in an ambulance.

  Southampton, her beloved football team. This was what she often did when she couldn’t sleep: name the Southampton squad one to twenty-eight. There would be more names to learn soon with a new season starting, along with names to scrub off the list. Yes, Southampton. She began to go through the team. The goalkeeper, full-back, centre-back, right-back...

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a massive jolt as the ambulance hit a pothole in the road. As it reconnected with the ground, agony raked through Holly’s body, and she groaned.

  “Just giving you something for the pain,” the voice said. The pain seemed impervious, stamping around her, shrieking at the top of its voice.

  Holly almost forgot to breathe; it was too much. In the distance, the whir of blue sirens filled the air and, by all accounts, she should have been excited to be part of this high-speed ride. As the ambulance rattled again, something moved inside her pelvis — was it broken? It didn’t feel right, like when you put a piece of flatpack furniture together and stood back, only to realise you were still holding two screws. Plus, the taste of blood in her mouth was making her feel nauseous. She exhaled, and the pain crackled around her skull.

  Another hand squeeze. “You’re going to be fine — Sarah says so, and Sarah is very capable, aren’t you?”

  “Very capable,” Sarah said, the pad of her thumb cool on Holly’s eyelids as she held them open, one after the other, shining a light into both her eyes. When she was done, Holly closed them again. Then she felt a pressure on her arm, a tightness. She exhaled again, clenching her whole face.

  “Pressure’s dropping, we need to get you to the hospital soon,” Sarah said, pushing her glasses up her face. She lifted Holly’s T-shirt and pressed on the left hand side.

  Holly flinched and groaned again.

  “Sorry,” Sarah said, glancing at her. “How about here?” She pressed on the right-hand side of her belly.

  Holly jolted up in pain, screwing up her face and crying out.

  “Right, that’s sore, I know,” Sarah said, now out of Holly’s eyeline. “She’ll be fine.” She must be talking to Tori. “So long as she’s not a professional gymnast, she should be up and about in around three months, give or take.” She leaned into Holly’s eyeline. “You’ve got a few broken bones and they’ll check you’re okay internally at the hospital.” Sarah paused, turning her head. “She’s not a professional gymnast, is she?”

  “She’s not.” That was Tori answering.

  “She could be a professional basketball player with her height.”

  “She’s not one of those either.”

  The ambulance took a sharp turn and a fresh wave of pain drenched Holly. Then there was a jolt — more loose screws — before the ambulance came to an abrupt stop. They’d made it and she was still alive, just. Holly closed her eyes, drained beyond belief.

  Next thing she knew, Tori was standing over her, a thin-lipped smile strung across her features. She wasn’t fooling anyone: Holly was going to die, wasn’t she? She knew the looks, understood the protocol.

  Then there were hands, a myriad of voices, instructions being barked. She was on the move, the striplighting of the ambulance dancing in her eyes after she was lifted out on the count of three. Sarah was standing over her, saying something, but not to her. Sarah kept looking down and smiling in between saying stuff, which was comforting. But did it mean Holly was going to die and she was trying to be nice to her? And where had Tori gone?

  “Blood pressure falling, internal bleeding, tib & fib.” Words sailed around Holly’s head, and while she recognised some of them from TV shows she’d watched, everything was just that little bit out of reach. She tried to catch them, but her mind was too slow, like she had the worst kind of hangover and was seeing the world through a thick mist.

  Through some double doors, Sarah and Tori jogging beside her, the ceiling a blur of white tiles. It was too bright and Holly shut her eyes.

  “This is Holly, RTC. Blood pressure dropping, possible bleeding internally, compound leg fracture, cracked ribs,” said Sarah, as Holly was wheeled inside a white-walled room.

  Holly didn’t like any of those words: cracked, dropping, fractured.

  Faces came into view and then hands were all over her. She braced for more pain.

  “This is her partner, Tori.” Still the same voice. “Let’s get her off this stretcher: on my count.”

  And then everything went dark again.

  Chapter 3

  Tori stirred her coffee and stared straight ahead. Her phone beeped: it was a text from Trudi.

  “There in 15.”

  She stuck out her hand: still shaking. She was just glad someone was turning up; a friendly, familiar face. Holly’s family were on their way, but she needed someone to tell her this wasn’t her fault; that her calling out to Holly on that zebra crossing didn’t mean she was to blame. Right now, the guilt had her by the throat, threatening to drag her under and never let her go.

  Her mum wasn’t answering, probably still getting Gran settled back at home and preparing her dinner. When her mum and Gran had left their flat all of three hours ago — Tori checked her watch, the watch Holly had bought her last Christmas, deep breaths — everything had been fine. Tori couldn’t quite believe that within 36 hours, she’d been in a police cell and now Holly was in an operating theatre, after being mown down on a zebra crossing. She wasn’t sure what they’d done to deserve it, but this was bad karma falling on them like a ton of bricks.

  To her left were a bunch of teens, laughing and drinking Diet Coke. To her right, a couple of nurses were on a break, huddled over hot drinks. Nobody here looked as shell-shocked as her. Nobody here looked like the love of their life was currently fighting for her life.

  Ten minutes later and Trudi rushed in, a shock of dark hair trailing behind her. She still had on the same clothes Tori had left her in just a few hours earlier, but that car journey back from Brighton Pride seemed light years ago.

  “Hey,” Trudi said, swooping down like a bird of prey and taking Tori into her arms. Tori let her: she was glad to lean on someone else, someone who understood. “How are you? I can’t believe this has happened after everything else this weekend.”

  “You and me both.”

  “But how?” Trudi sat down beside Tori, holding one of her hands. “Was she running in front of cars again?”

  Tori shook her head sadly. “Believe it or not, she wasn’t. This wasn’t a typical Holly frogger moment: she was on a zebra crossing, and the driver hit her and took off.” A sob bubbled up and out of Tori as the whole scene replayed in her mind again, just as it had been doing for the past few hours.

  “A hit and run? They still happen?” Trudi took a deep breath. “And she’s still in theatre?”

  Tori wiped away a tear. “Yep — they were quite positive about it, but she’s got internal bleeding, and her blood pressure was dropping.” Tori put her head in her hands. “And her left leg.” A shake of the head. “I could see the bone sticking up. I nearly vomited in the ambulance, but I had to hold it together.”

  Trudi stroked Tori’s back. “And was she conscious?”

  “In and out. She was thrown in the air, frankly I was just pleased she was still alive. The paramedics were brilliant, but still.” Pause. “Seeing someone you love, knowing that could have been it. This could be it…” Tori couldn’t bring herself to consider the implications of that statement; but, then again, it had been at the forefront of her mind since she’d seen Holly land on the tarmac. A simple walk into the road and that was it? She wasn’t prepared to believe it, and yet, she knew it happened.

  “Don’t talk like that. She’s a tough old bird, she’ll pull through.”

  “Will she?”

  “Of course. She’s made of stern stuff, our Holly.”

  “I hope you’re right.”
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  Trudi nodded, and Tori could hear the click of her tongue-stud against her teeth as she did. “Of course I am. Plus, she’s got to pull through because I’m already thinking of taking her up on that offer to be the face of Babe Magnet. I always told her she should be a model.”

  Tori smiled. “I’ll just settle for her being alive and well. Modelling can wait.”

  “Agreed.” Trudi stood up. “I’m going to get a coffee. Shall I get you some chocolate to go with yours?”

  Tori nodded, soothed to be being looked after. “A Kit Kat would be lovely.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Chapter 4

  Holly had no idea how she’d managed to sleep. She usually needed total, tomb-like blackout, but this room was Persil-bright. She took in her surroundings: pale yellow walls, off-white sheets, medical instruments to her left. A drip, something pinching the tip of her index finger. She was lying flat, and when she moved her arm, something crunched. Her body felt drugged, heavy, like it wasn’t her own.

  She was in a hospital bed, but she had no idea why.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

  Holly twitched, and her stomach flared: whatever had happened, she was sore from something.

  In walked her dad, his wife, Sarah, and their daughter Elsie. When Elsie saw Holly was awake, she squealed.

  “Lolly open eye!” That was Elsie’s nickname for her: she was the only person Holly accepted it from, no matter how many times Tori tried to claim it.

  “Thank god,” Dad said, walking over to her bedside. His face was drained and his red eyes told her he’d been crying, but he gave her a tiny smile anyway. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I just woke up from being dead.” The lack of memory was scaring her. What the hell had happened to have made her dad cry?

  “Well, you nearly were at one point,” Sarah replied.