Feck

'Shut up, Fries, you're injured! So what's happening?' Looking about, Nick could read it in their faces. They were clueless.

'Fries?'

'Right, I've called an ambulance in, they can't come in from the top, they're going to have to come from the bottom. I need you to go down there and meet them, guide them up. I've got Di driving down in the Forester as well, just in case. Worst case, she takes the bikes.'

'Mick!!'

'Yeah!'

'Get em to bring up some blankets as well. Four.'

'Sean.'

'Yeah.'

'I need you to come over here, squat at my feet.'

'Roight, roight! Whaddya want?'

'I can't walk, tried getting up, the right leg's buggered. I'm going to need you to check it for me.'

'I'm not looking.'

'That's all right, look at me, look at my face. Or away, whichever you need to do. But what I want you to do is start at my ankle, wrap your hands around it, thumb to thumb, finger to finger, like this.'

'Yeah.'

'Then slowly move your hands up to my knee. You're feeling to see if any bone is sticking out.'

'Feck.'

'You're doing fine, mate, keep going.'

'Feck'n hell, I can feel something.'

'You're going to have to look.'

'Like feck I'm going to look.'

'Look at me for a minute. It's all cool. I can't look, I can't sit up. You're going to have to do it.'

'Seriously!'

'You feck'n bastard, it's your cycling knicks.'

'Oh yeah, forgot to tell you about that. It's just the beading keeping them down. So, seeing you looking, no bone, no blood, nothing?'

'No, ye feck'n twat.'