Page 99 of A Long Way Back
I know.
“Talk to me about what it was like inside, how you were treated. What you did every day, how you passed the time, how you coped.What are you doing now? I know you’ve given George the slip. He’s not best pleased.”
Ink grew increasingly panicked that Tay would arrive before Carter left. He had to get rid of him.
“Tomorrow,” Ink said. “I’m too tired to think straight. I’ll give you something tomorrow.” He closed his eyes.
“Good. Now you’re being sensible.”
Go, go, go.
Even with his eyes closed, Ink saw the flash of Carter taking a picture.
“No photographs,” someone said.
Ink opened his eyes to see a female nurse in front of Carter.
“He’s not my father,” Ink said. “He lied to you.”
“Delete that picture,” the nurse snapped.
Carter just laughed as he walked out. Ink wished he’d not said anything because now Carter would guess tomorrow wasn’t going to happen.
“Shall I tell security to stop him?” the nurse asked.
Ink shook his head. Nothing would stop him. He’d have sent that photo to a secure account the moment he left the ward.
“I’m sorry he got through.”
Not as sorry as Ink. But would he have still gone after that guy with Tay’s crutch if he’d realised it would lead to this? Yes, he would.
“The police called and asked if you were okay to talk to them.”
“This afternoon,” Ink muttered.
She nodded.
Minutes later, she came back. “Your brother is here. Do you want to see him?”
“Yes.”
Tay wheeled himself in and it took every ounce of Ink’s self-control to hold himself together.
Tay came up close to the bed. “What was that about? I didn’t think they were going to let me see you.”
“One of the press got in. Pull the curtain across.”
Tay pulled it into place and Ink swung his feet over the side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Tay stared at him in bewilderment.
“Leaving.” Ink dropped his feet to the floor and reached for the net bag. There was a copy of theMetroin there, Ink was on the cover, wielding the crutch, and he gulped.
“They can’t seriously be letting you out yet,” Tay said.
Ink pulled the T-shirt over his head and bit back the gasp of pain that threatened to spill from his lips. After he’d put on the boxers and jeans, he had to rest on the bed to pull himself together.
“Ink, you’re not fit to be discharged. What are they thinking?”
