Page 5 of A Long Way Back
No.“Yes.” But the truth was he wouldn’t be happy anywhere.
“What about your job?” she said. “How’s it going?”
Er…“Really well.” Sometimes, there was too much noise in his head for him to concentrate, so everything took twice as long as it should. Things that had seemed easy before, he now struggled with. The dream of him becoming a much sought-after forensic accountant was dead. He was doing the job, but not shining. He still hoped for a miracle.
“You don’t find it lonely working from home?” His mother sipped her drink.
Tay was aware how carefully his father was watching him.
Yes.“Not really. Anyway, I’m not up to office hours and using public transport to get to work. Not yet.”
“How’s the physio going?” His mother was watching him just as carefully as his father now.
“Fine. I’m fine. Work’s fine. The flat’s fine. Life’s fine. No problems.”Oh God. He shouldn’t have said all that because it was like waving a red flag declaring everything wasnotfine. Fine was a horrible word anyway. As bad asnice.
His father tapped his fingers on the table.
His mother chuckled. “You know the tapping means he doesn’t believe you.”
“And it hurts.” Tay put a forlorn expression on his face.
“It’s like Chinese water torture,” she said. “He won’t stop.”
Tay managed a laugh. “Okay, yes, I still have a few problems. You can see I do. I’m fed up of wrangling the wheelchair down the steps onto the pavement. I’ve not made as much progress with walking as I’d hoped. In my last supermarket delivery, someone substituted a coconut for coconut shampoo, and I ate the entire box of After Eight mints that I’d bought for you as a surprise to take on holiday.”
His father chuckled, his mother rolled her eyes, and Tay made sure he didn’t let his relief show. What he’d said was true, but the bigger truths were still safe.I’m unhappy. I’m lonely. I wish I was back in the north. I think I’m addicted to painkillers.
More than think.
“We did say you should have looked for a place with a ramp,” his mother pointed out.
Tay chewed his cheeks. Yes, they had, but he’d liked the look of the flat in the virtual tour. It was close to the shops and not too far from central London, though he’d made a mistake. The steps up to the front door being one of them.
“This area isn’t…” One look from his father and his mother shut up.
No, the area wasn’t a good one. He’d hoped for bistro cafés, places he could sit and drink coffee, read a book, maybe meet people. He wanted shops that sold gourmet cheese, every variety of fudge, micropubs, small independent retailers selling all sorts of stuff, but that wasn’t what he’d got. Like most other areas of London, this one had good and bad parts. Tay wasn’t sure if the Red Lion pub was good or bad. Part of him wished he’d never set foot in there.
“Any biscuits?” his father asked.
“Yeah.” Tay gritted his teeth as he pushed to his feet. Two steps to the cupboard. He could do that without his crutches. His parents knew better than to offer to help. But when he lifted the tin from the shelf, it slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor. The lid slid under the table and broken biscuits shot everywhere.Fuck it.
Tay bent to pick up the tin and a flash of electric pain pierced his head like a dagger. The room disappeared, his stomach churned, and it was through sheer force of will that he managed to sit on a chair and not throw up. His father stared at him while his mum faffed around with a dustpan and brush.
“You’re white as a sheet,” his father said. “It’s okay to admit when you’re hurting. When did you last see a doctor?”
“A few weeks ago. I’ve got an appointment next week. He’ll just tell me I need to be patient, take it slow. It’s always the same story.” Patient about walking, talking, getting back to the life he had. He wanted to dispense with his wheelchair, but he couldn’t. His speech was still a fraction slower than it should be. And the headaches were terrible.
His mum huffed. “We all know how patient you are, Mr Speedy. I’ve never seen you let your microwave count all the way down. You channel hop like a kangaroo. And you can’t sit still—”
Another glance from his father and his mum shut up again. Thathadbeen him. None of that was him now.
His mum turned back to face him. “I don’t want to leave you when you’re like this.”
Like what?Tay had made an enormous effort to appear upbeat. He sucked in his cheeks. “Just a bad patch. You arenotgoing to cancel this trip. You’ve been planning it for years. You deserve it after all I’ve put you through. I wish I was going.”Sort of.
His mother’s eyes widened. “We can arrange that.”
Shit.“No. I can’t go. I have a job to do.” And there was the not so minor detail that travel insurance would be astronomical, if even possible. How could he manage on a cruise ship when he couldn’t even lift a tin of biscuits from the cupboard without dropping it? Well, there’d probably be a whole load of people ready to help, but that was exactly what he didn’t want. He didn’t want to be looked after. So while the idea of a holiday sounded great, he wouldn’t spoil things for the two most important people in his world. The last thing they needed was a crippled son tagging along. And if he got caught carrying illegally obtained drugs on board, that would be the end of everything.
