Page 9 of A Long Way Back
“Thanks.”
Tay couldn’t think anyone would want this mutt, nor the dirty-looking sleeping bag, or the tattered backpack and the longer canvas bag that was attached to it. He was struck by a pang of sadness. At least he had a place to live. He wasn’t entirely reliant on his intermittent accountancy work, but still… Compared to some, hewaslucky.
“What’s your name, boy?” Tay bent and tickled behind the mongrel’s ears.
The dog rolled onto his side and looked up at him, then rested his head back on Tay’s foot. A dog would be company, but Tay couldn’t handle one yet, not the walks and everything else that went with owning a dog. Sometimes, he struggled to get out of bed in the morning. On those days, he gave in to how he felt and stayed where he was. Plus, when one of his headaches struck, he was useless for hours, and he definitely had one brewing. More than brewing.
He’d not thought through what life would be like in London before he’d insisted it was where he wanted to live. It was so big, he’d imagined it was an easy place to get lost in, except he was more lost than he’d wanted to be. It wasn’t even far enough from Northumberland for him not to be tempted to go back. Another country might have been better. He also didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, and yet his parents never stopped worrying about him. And Jonty might not be in his life, but he was most definitely still in his head.
He thought he’d considered the implications, but he hadn’t. Most of his life had been spent in a small town in Northumberland, apart from three years at Newcastle University. But he’d wanted to go somewhere that didn’t remind him of the life he’d lost. And the friend he’d lost. He couldn’t admit to his parents that he longed to go home, how much he missed the sea and Northumberland.
And Jonty.
His throat closed up as he thought about him.
Tay was part way through the six-month contract on his flat. He’d already been asked if he wanted to renew and he was wondering if he did. He’d made no friends. The only person he saw on a regular basis was his drug dealer. If he moved back north, it would be as if he were admitting defeat. But he’d done nothing while he was here. He barely left his flat. Life hadn’t turned out as he’d expected. No circle of friends. No fun-filled evenings.
The guy came out again with two coffees and a couple of paper bags and sat down on the bench closer to Tay. He took the lead back, but the dog stayed with his head on Tay’s shoe.
“I bought you a coffee and a sausage roll.” He put the drinks between them. “The one closest to you has milk, the other not.” He held out one of the bags. “Sausage roll?”
What?“I’m fine thanks,” Tay said.
“I brought sugar in case.” He put two sachets of sugar on the bench.
Tay took a deep breath and psyched himself up to talk faster than he usually managed. “I don’t take sugar. I have to be going. You drink the coffee. Thanks for the thought.”
“I can’t drink two. Please have it.”
Tay met the guy’s gaze and his mouth went dry. He looked like a dark-haired Jonty, though he was darker skinned than Jonty and his cheeks were hollow and there was a…wild look about him that Jonty didn’t have. Jonty always looked open and innocent. This guy didn’t. He looked haunted. He also looked as if he cut his hair himself with blunt scissors. His eyes were moss green and beautiful, his eyelashes thick and long. Tay swallowed hard.Why am I admiring his eyes?
It won’t kill me to sit here a bit longer.“Okay. Thanks.”
“Do you take milk?” the guy asked as he put the larger paper bag inside his backpack.
“No, nor sugar.”
“Why the crutches?”
“Accident.” Not really, but it was the easy answer.
“Well, I didn’t think you’d done it deliberately.”
Tay gaped at him. No one had ever responded like that. “I could have cerebral palsy.”
“Shit.” The guy winced. “I didn’t think of that. Sorry. Christ, I got two things wrong now. The milk and the crutches.”
“Three things. I’m a priest. You just took the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Fuck. Shit. Bollocks. Sorry.”
The guy looked so horrified that Tay couldn’t stop the laugh bursting from his mouth.
“I have Tourette’s,” the guy said and Tay snapped the laugh off with a gulp until he spotted the grin. “Not really. Just trying to get my own back.”
Tay couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with a stranger, let alone one where he’d laughed.
“You’re not a priest, are you?”
