Page 28 of A Long Way Back
When Tay emerged from his room, Ink took the wheelchair out into the hall. Tay locked the door of his flat, then the outer door. Ink manoeuvred the heavy wheelchair down the steps and onto the pavement.
“I don’t know how you managed to do that with your crutches.” Ink opened up the chair, pressed the clip to lock it in place and slid his hoodie into a mesh bag on the back.
“Put the brake on and adjust the handles so you’re not bending over.”
Tay sounded a bit surly, but Ink took no notice. Once Tay was sitting in the chair, Ink fastened the crutches in holders next to the handles. Dog jumped up onto Tay’s knees and Ink laughed.
“Hey, Dog, have your legs fallen off?” Ink asked.
“He’s fine. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” Ink started to push him down the road.
“A few instructions for a learner driver,” Tay said. “Don’t let go of the chair without telling me because I can’t feel when you’re not holding the handles. Don’t get distracted and let go when I’m on a slope. Keep an eye out for what’s ahead—changes in height, rough ground, people’s ankles, little kids or bottomless pits. Use a wheelie position to get me up slopes or steps—forwards or backwards, but just warn me. Don’t push the chair when I have the brake on. And don’t push it when I’m propelling it.”
“Okay. Can I sit on your lap and ride when we’re going downhill toward a bottomless pit?”
“Where would Dog sit?”
Ink smiled. “Kerb coming up. Going forwards. Assume that’s the way I’ll tackle every kerb unless I say different. Hold tight.” He tipped the chair back and edged the large wheels over the lip and down onto the road. “Wow, you didn’t fall out. I’m so good at this.”
Tay huffed.
“Apart from actually having to use a wheelchair, is there anything that particularly annoys you about it?”
“People who think they’re an expert at pushing a wheelchair within minutes. People treating me as if I’m stupid. Or crouching down to talk to me. I hate that. Or having conversations as if I wasn’t there. Having shopping piled on me. Or coats. Being asked what happened and expected to give all the details. People who let their dog sit on my lap. Not stopping to look at something when I want to stop. Some twat sayingIt’s a miraclewhen I get up out of the chair because they assume I have zero use of my legs.”
“Wow. Okay. Well, the sooner you’re out of the chair, the better, right? We’ll work on that.”
“We?”
“I want to help in whatever way I can. Cattle prod. Taser. Chocolate. Your choice.”
“Shut up.”
“You know, I’m thinking of dumping you, you whine so much. The Thames isn’t far.”
“Really!” snapped a woman who was passing them. “You can’t speak to him like that. He’s in a wheelchair.”
Ink gasped. “Oh, you’re right.” He came to the front of the chair and crouched down. “Sorry, snookums. Did I upset you, sweetie pie? And you are such a good little doggie.”
Tay laughed and the woman huffed and walked on.
“I thought you were talking to me,” Tay said.
“The snookums was for you. Sweetie pie was for Dog.”
Ink pushed the chair on.
“Where are we going?” Tay asked again.
“Two places. A vet to get Dog checked for a chip, then a surprise.”
Ink had looked online and found a local vet. He hadn’t made an appointment so he hoped they’d see him. When he saw the vet’s practice coming up on their side of the road, he mentally crossed his fingers. “Would you go and buy us a couple of bottles of water from that shop while I take Dog into the vet?”
“Okay.”
Once he was sure Tay could wheel himself in, Ink slipped into the vet’s with Dog.
