Page 8 of A Long Way Back
“Is that all?” she asked.
“No one with pets. No one who talks a lot. Someone older than me.”No one with white blond hair. No one with piercings. No one who will remind me of Jonty in any way whatsoever.
“Are you outside? Did I hear a bird tweet?”
“Going for a walk.”
“That’s great. Well done! Fresh air will do you good. Did you put on your coat? It’s chilly today.”
“Yes.” He hoped she wasn’t watching.
“I’ll let you know when the agency has a list of candidates. I want them there tomorrow before we set off for the ship. We’ll come early so your dad has a chance to mend the chair. They promised the part would arrive first thing.”
“Fine.”
“Are you feeling all right? You’re far too amenable.”
“I’m still breathing.”
“Tay…”
He heard the concern in her voice. “I’m okay. I won’t overdo it.”
“I couldn’t bear it if…”
A lump formed in his throat. “I’m fine. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.” He’d already done something stupid.
He slid the phone back into his jacket pocket. It was only the thought of the pills arriving at his flat and him not being there with the money that drove him forward.
It was hard not to feel sorry for himself, though he really tried not to. Self-pity was a fucking greedy bastard, always nibbling away at him, but he was sofuckingmiserable. There was nothing to look forward to because there was only one thing that could make his world turn again, and that was Jonty knocking on his door with that brilliant smile on his face telling him that he’d dumped Devan because he’d realised it was Tay he loved.Oh look. A flock of flying pigs.
He loved and hated Jonty in equal measure.
Fuck it, I don’t.If Jonty turned up now, Tay would be so happy.
He managed a few more metres, then stopped to have a rest. This was the furthest he’d ever walked with his crutches. He was only supposed to be going short distances until his hospital appointment next week. He slowly made his way down the high street, shambling along like a drunk. At least the crutches made it clear alcohol wasn’t a problem. He hoped.
Once he’d accepted that he wasn’t living somewhere trendy, he was amused by the high street. An abundance of charity shops, cut-price off-licences, an undertaker called Butcher, a jeweller with windows so barred it was hard to see what was on display, a shop selling colourful saris, a tiny prefab library and a spy shop, among others. Oh yeah, and The Red Lion where he’d met Lennie.
As he lurched down the pavement, most people moved out of his way, some—who were on their phones—almost walked into him. A few stared. He didn’t care about the stares.Liar.Determination coupled with desperation got him to the machine. He withdrew his money and tucked it away in his wallet before stuffing it deep into the inside pocket of his jacket which he zipped.
The thought of the return journey filled him with dread. There was a bench near the road and Tay decided to rest for a while before he made the trek back. He slid his arms from his crutches, and as he lowered himself onto the seat, a guy dropped down on the other end of the bench. Between him and Tay, he put a rolled up sleeping bag, and a backpack.Homeless?
“Excuse me.”
It was a moment before Tay realised he was being addressed, and he tensed. He’d just been to the cash machine, and was in no state to chase a robber. Had this guy seen him and was after his money? Did he have a sob story? A knife? A gun?Fuck!
“Do you think you could watch the dog and my stuff while I go into the café?”
Tay came back to reality with a bump and looked across to see a young dark-haired guy holding out a frayed rope lead. Attached to the lead was a small black and white dog of indeterminate breed, but nothing that would win Crufts. He had oversized ears that stuck up on his head as if they were trying to keep him upright. The guy had put a bowl of water at the front of the bench.
“Dog’s no trouble. He’ll just sit and wait.”
“Okay.” Tay took the rope and the dog came to his feet and lay with his nose on Tay’s shoe.
