A Naked Accident.

Excerpt from Anna McPartlin‘s brilliant novel entitled:  “Pack Up the Moon”:

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I tried the door.  It was locked.

“Anne!”  I called out.

“Em!” a small voice called out from behind the door.

“Anne, let me in!”

“I can’t!” she cried.

“Why not?” I asked, looking at the two others behind me.

“I’ve pulled my back out!  I can’t move.”

I pushed at the door.

“Stop!” she cried out, “I’m naked!”

“Jesus,” mumbled the caretaker.  I guess he was expecting a quiet night and a naked, injured woman certainly wasn’t on his “to do” list.

“Calm down, love.  We have the caretaker.  He’ll take care of the door,” Doreen said while gesturing to the caretaker.

“Doreen?” Anne whined.

“Yes, it’s me, love.  Everything will be fine.”

“I’m naked,” Anne reminded us.

“It will be fine.  I’ll cover his — what’s your name?”  She looked at the caretaker.

“Jim.”

“I’ll cover Jim’s eyes when he removes the door.”

Jim looked nervous.  I could hear Anne mumbling something about God.  Jim disappeared to find his tools.  Doreen and I kept Anne talking.  It appears that she hadn’t eaten all day and the likelihood was that she had fainted in the shower.  One minute she was standing under hot water, the next she woke up on the floor unable to move.  I tried to calm her, but she wasn’t having any of it and I could understand:  an accident is bad enough; a naked accident was like pouring salt into the wound.

Doreen remained upbeat.  “Sure it isn’t something you can tell your grandkids?”  She was smiling at me, sure that her words would bring comfort, but I knew better and when Anne started to cry so did she.

Jim returned and began unscrewing the hinges.

“Why don’t you just kick it down,” I asked.

“You want me to kick down a solid mahogany door?”  His voice was laced with the smallest hint of sarcasm.

“Well, yeah,” I replied.

Anne screamed that he was not to kick down the door.  She did not need a door landing on top of her or indeed a handyman on top of a door landing on her.  Doreen reminded her to be calm.  With only one hinge to go I insisted on taking over.  He complied a little too willingly and I wondered if he was gay.  With the last hinge removed, I alerted my naked friend that I was about to enter.

Wait!” she screamed.

We all stood motionless.

“Jim?” she called out.

“Yeah?” he said hesitantly.

“You can go now.  Thanks for your help,” she said from the floor.

“Right then,” he smiled and almost ran out the door.

Doreen sighed.  “Men.  Bloody useless.”

I pulled the door over and saw poor Anne arse up and facedown.

“You could park a bike,” Doreen laughed.

She was right.  I had expected Anne to be lying flat, not bent over and on her knees.  It was a bloody awkward position and I wondered how she’d managed it.

“Yes, thank you, Doreen,” Anne noted, not amused.

I covered her with a bath towel and then followed Doreen’s instructions and we lifted her to her feet.  She was still bent forward and Doreen worried that it was a slipped disc.

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You’ll have to find the book to read the rest!  It’s been a long time since a book has made me laugh hysterically.  I can’t believe that they haven’t turned this into a movie yet!  It’s like Bridget Jones Diary meets Nicolas Sparks, with more than a little hilarious raunchiness added in.  What more can you ask for in a good read??

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