The drought had ended and now the rain had been falling for about two weeks; it just never seemed to stop. Mik and I were pretty much cut off and had been for about 2 days. We only had overhead-supplied electricity as a main service here; we were pretty remote in the dales. We had solar panels and batteries as backups, but, well, we haven’t seen any blue skies or sun in weeks; our batteries were low, and we were keeping them for emergencies should the overhead line fail.

We had a good supply of dried wood that we were slowly working our way down. When we boiled water, any unused we put in a thermos – anything we could to save energy usage. So far the electricity supply had held, but it was flaky and would often cut out for hours.

“Mom,” Mik yelled from out back.

“Yes, Mik, baby, what?”

“Shall I light the Aga? We can cook tea and make some bread too.”

“Yes, I will get some meat out of the freezer.”

I hated opening the freezer, when the electricity finally went, which it surely would; we would have to use the generator, and we only had about 300 gallons of diesel, and that was also needed for the tractor, and with all the roads flooded, we had no chance of getting any more, not for at least a month; the roads would need several weeks to dry out after the floods receded. The longer I kept the freezer shut, the colder it stayed. I usually opened it only when necessary.

Tea tonight would be the last of our defrosted meat, so the freezer had to be opened to get another few days of frozen meat out to defrost. Showers were once a week and not piping hot, but we kept clean; we used body washes daily, and Sunday was our shower day. The AGA gave us warm water, but our shower was electric, just the mishmash cobble-together way things are done in old farmhouses.

We had moved up here to this old dale farm as a family about ten years ago, but very sadly, Paul, Mik’s dad, passed a few years after we moved, and then shortly after that, our livestock were decimated by TB, and we couldn’t afford to replace them. We managed to get a few ewes and a ram, and they were able to keep us pretty self-sufficient in lamb and mutton as long as we were frugal, and we processed the meat ourselves. We also got our milk from the ewes too. We occasionally swapped some mutton for pork with a neighbouring farm.

We grow and harvest our own hay, which we feed to the sheep over winter. It can be quite labour intensive when we harvest the hay, but mostly we just tick along. We grew a few potatoes and runner beans, using seeds from the previous year’s crop. We had considered getting chickens but, well, just hadn’t got around to it. We aren’t eligible for subsidies, so Paul’s widow’s pension is what we have to live on.

We have an old Massey Ferguson tractor with a front bucket and some forks, plus a bale spike, a flail mower, a harrow, a baler, a trailer and a few other bits and pieces. Everything we have is old but doesn’t require any computers to maintain; it is all manual. Mik and I have both learnt how to service the equipment, and as long as nothing major goes wrong, we are okay; we don’t need anyone else. One of the neighbouring farmers did offer to combine our hay for us, but when I learnt what his price was, and I have too much dignity for that, I declined.

As the Aga was warming, Mik and I walked down the track to see how high the water was.

“Shit, Mum, that’s at least ten feet deep if not more.”

“Language, Mik. Yes, that is going to take a very long time to dry out, and I am worried for this year’s hay; if that doesn’t dry out soon, I don’t want us to have to seed it and fertilise it. That is an expense we don’t need.”

“Sorry, Mum, but that is the deepest I have ever seen it here. We are pretty much stuck. A helicopter would be the only way in.”

“Crumbs. I know, but luckily, we are pretty much okay. We ought to check that the telephone is still working when we get back and make sure the mobile is charged.”

Our telephone is goodness knows how many years old and is on the kitchen wall with an outside repeater bell so we can hear it when we are on the farm. It is so old it has a rotary dial. Our mobile is also quite old and doesn’t do internet or stuff, but we can ring and text if required. We have to be upstairs to use it, as it doesn’t get a connection downstairs. So it tends to live in my bedroom where there is a spare charger socket. But anyway, who are we going to ring?

As we were walking back, oh, I don’t know, perhaps I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I turned my ankle. It was so stupid; one moment I am walking and the next I am falling to the floor.

“Ouch,” I said, loudly, and then when I tried to stand up, “Oh shit.”

“Mum, what? Are you okay?”

“No, Mik. I have twisted my ankle, and I can’t stand up.”

“Do you want to hold onto me, and I will try and get you to your feet, and then we can hop back?”

It was worth a try. I nodded. Mik held me in my armpits, I put as much weight as I could on my good ankle, and Mik managed to get me on my feet. Oh my, that ankle hurt.

“Mik, no, I can’t move; the pain is too much. Rest me on the grass by the fence post. I will sit and wait until the pain dies down.”

We moved, very slowly, to the fence, and Mik helped me to sit down. The rain was still teeming and showed no signs of abating. Pity it was warm spring rain and not cold winter rain; at least winter rain would have helped cool my ankle, which felt very hot to the touch.

“I’ll go and get the tractor and bale trailer; at least I can get you back to the house on that.”

“Okay, baby. I will be fine; just don’t be like your silly mum. Look where you are going; we can’t have both of us out of commission.”

Mik turned and headed back up the track, and I leant back on the post. Now that he was gone, I could cry, and I did. Oh, fuck this hurt, and I mean really hurt. I noticed my breath was raggedy; perhaps I was in shock. There had been no ‘crack’ so I didn’t think it was broken, just a bad sprain or similar. Luckily we had some Metacam and Vetrofen from the vet that we sometimes used on the sheep; they’re not supposed to be for humans, but what are you going to do?

Working out the dosage was going to be interesting. Eventually my sobbing stopped, and I sat there gulping. I was pretty much soaked to the skin; rain had gone down my collar, I hadn’t noticed that my hood had come off, and basically I was absolutely sodden right through to my skin. I would deal with that when I got back to the farm. For now I just had to wait on Mik. I heard the Massey as he approached.

Thank goodness, I knew I was struggling. The pain was intense, and my body was shivering in shock too. The Massey appeared; oh, it had no trailer, just the front loader bucket. Mik pulled up and then turned so that the tractor bucket was just in front of me; it was full of hay, I noticed.

“I decided that the bucket would be easier to get you into, as I can get it down to ground level both here and back at the house. I put hay in it to try and make it a bit more comfortable.”

Good thinking. “Good plan, but we need to go now, Mik. I know enough to know I am in shock, and I need to get back and dry and warm and get some medication. No matter if I cry or scream, can we get me into the bucket and back home? I can’t promise that I will be quiet, but I need us to get me into the house.”

“Okay, Mum, right, can you shuffle your bum across and roll into the bucket? Once you are in, I can slowly curl it back so that you don’t fall out.”

I took a deep breath and inched myself across to the bucket. My dear Lord, but that hurt. Just dragging my injured ankle almost made me black out. Eventually, it felt like hours but was only a few minutes. I had my backside in the bucket; I shuffled back so that I was leaning against the side of it.

“Mum, no other way, but I am going to lift both your legs fully into the bucket. Hold on to something.”

I expected he would take a minute and then do it, but no, he just bent down and picked both legs up and twisted me so that they were in the bucket. I know I screamed. The pervert farmer over the hill probably knew too. Mik got into the tractor and curled the bucket. Bless him, he did it so slowly, but still my leg moved, and I was crying with the pain by the time he stopped.

“Okay, Mum, you look safe; I don’t think you will fall out. It is going to be bumpy, sorry, but I will go slowly, and we will get you back as soon as possible.”

I just nodded; I don’t think I had the capability of speaking. I have given birth; I have broken an arm, but nothing, ever, in my life even came close to this pain.

‘It’s just a sprain,’ I told myself.

Mik backed the tractor up, and then we set off up the track. It was about a mile from where we were back to the house, and Mik went slowly, but I was still bumped and banged about. There was no other way; we don’t own a vehicle with suspension that I could get into. Our family car was a diesel Series 3 Land Rover, and the suspension on that was, well, let’s just say it was probably worse than the tractor. At least the bucket swayed up and down more than it jolted, but the pain was intense, and I may have blacked out a little on the way back.

I felt Mik shaking my shoulder. As I came to, my ankle waved a cheery hello. That got my attention.

“Mum, Mum, are you alright? We are home.”

“Yes, baby.” I took a moment and a deep breath. “I wonder, if you uncurl the bucket but don’t lower it all the way to the ground, if we can swing my legs out and I can hop out on my good leg.”

“Yes, Mum, just what I was thinking.”

Mik slowly levelled out the bucket, and then he lowered it a little.

“It was too high for your good leg, Mum.” I just nodded.

We managed to swivel me with Mik holding onto my bad leg, and I managed to just touch the floor with my good foot.

“Okay, let’s get me out of this thing.”

Bracing myself, I shuffled forward until I was on the edge and then sort of fell forward onto my good foot, Mik holding my damaged leg and lowering it down. I kept my knee bent to try and avoid touching the floor. Mik then stood; with my bad leg between us, I put my arm around his shoulder, and we shuffled into the kitchen. Mik pulled a chair around, and I managed to sit on it and rest on the kitchen table.

“I’m just going to move the Massey Mum; it’s just too close to the back door. The last thing we need is another accident. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I nodded; it made sense. At least I was now out of the rain, but still soaking wet. I heard the tractor move, and I guessed he had just put it back in the barn, and then he was back.

“What do you need first, Mum?”

“I need to get out of these wet things, get dry, then have some drugs. Oh, I wish we had some ketamine.”

“No, you don’t. I will go upstairs and get our dressing gowns and some towels.” I nodded. And then he seemed to be gone for ages, and it felt like I was swimming; eventually he came back. He had stripped his wet clothes off and put his robe on. I had tried to get my wet clothes off, or at least start, but I was too weak from the pain; I just gave up.

“Right, Mum, let’s get you sorted.”

“I tried to get the wet clothes off Mik, but I can’t.”

“No worries, Mum, I’ll do it for you.”

Oh. Well. This would be the first time he had seen me naked; I don’t think he had even seen me in my bra. Frankly, I just didn’t care. I needed these wet clothes off and to be dry. Mik undid my wax jacket, but I was sitting on it.

“Try and lift your bum,” he said.

I pushed as hard as I could on the table and managed to get my bottom up. Mik pulled my coat from underneath me. With some finagling he managed to get it off.

“I think this is wetter on the inside than the outside, Mum.” He said, hanging it off the back of another chair. It needed to go inside out if it was going to dry, but I said nothing; I needed all my breath to live, not speak.

I tried to undo the buttons on my blouse, but my fingers wouldn’t grip. Mik eased my fingers away and undid my buttons, pulled my blouse from inside my trousers and then eased it off my shoulders and away. Once the wet blouse was gone, I actually felt a little warmer. Mik undid my bra and pulled it forward and off and then wrapped a towel around my shoulders.

“Okay, Mum. That was the easy bit.” He undid the waist of my trousers and the zip but obviously couldn’t pull them down; I was sitting on them, and my boots were in the way. He knelt at my feet and undid and took the boot and sock off from my good foot. The pain as he undid the lace on my damaged ankle was probably as intense as any I had today. I felt every movement as he widened my boot as far as he could and then twisted it down to ease it off. Yes, I screamed again as the boot came off.

“Bloody hell, Mum, I could see your ankle swelling as the boot came off.”

I may have nodded; I don’t know.

“Right, Mum, your trousers. Can you get your bum off the chair again?”

He stood between my legs and leant forward and gripped my waist. I lifted as far as I could, and he tugged my trousers, complete with knickers down to my knees. He then knelt between my legs as I settled back into the chair.

“Last bit, Mum, then I can get you dry, and we can see about getting you warm.”

He was looking straight up at me and started to pull my trousers and knickers down my legs. He managed to get them down most of the way, then he pulled them off my good leg, just leaving them on my bad.

“Right, Mum, last bit,” he said, looking up.

“Okay,” I managed, looking back down and noticing that his eyes were on my crotch, not my face. Oh well, he’s seen his mum’s fanny.

He eased, as best as he could, my trousers and knickers over my bad ankle. And then finally he took the sock off the sprained foot. I was naked, bar a towel over my shoulder, in my kitchen with my son, who, as far as I knew, had never seen a naked woman before. C’est la vie.

I was cold and shivering and still pretty wet. Mik threw a towel over my legs and then started rubbing my back, drying it, and as he went, he moved more from the centre to my sides, and then he stood in front, drying my boobs and stomach.

“Let’s get your dressing gown on as best we can now that you are drier.”

He took the towel away, leaving me naked again, apart from the towel covering my legs, and reached for my dressing gown. He put my left arm in first and then pulled it around my shoulders, and we managed to get my right in. Couldn’t really do it up yet, not until I stood, and that wasn’t happening just yet.