Page 29 of A Long Way Back
He didn’t have a chip when he went in. He did when they came out. Dog now officially belonged to Tay, not that Ink was going to tell him. Ink had negotiated a cheaper price for the chip, but his cash was dwindling. The vet had estimated that Dog was around ten years old.
Tay was waiting when they emerged. “So?”
“He didn’t have a chip. I gave them a phone number so they’ll call if anyone claims him.”
Ink pushed the wheelchair across the road into a park.
“Have you been here before?” Ink asked.
“No.”
“Good. Then it’s an adventure. It’s called Postman’s Park. I found it by accident a while ago.” He pushed Tay over to the wall of ceramic tablets. “These plaques commemorate people who sacrificed their lives to help others, but had no official recognition.”
“Oh God. This is not a way to cheer me up. Eight-year-old Henry James Bristow saved his sister’s life by tearing off her flaming clothes only to catch fire himself and die of burns and shock. Fucking hell. Elizabeth Boxall age seventeen died while saving a child from a runaway horse.”
Each tablet told the brief story of an act of heroism and Ink had come here a few times when he’d been down because they made him think about someone other than himself. Bottom line was that he was still alive. Tay had fallen silent as Ink had pushed him along and he’d read the other inscriptions.
“Unsung heroes,” Ink said. “Except they are sung now because they have a few words acknowledging what they did, and you didn’t know about them yesterday, and today, you do.”
“A lot of them were kids.”
“Yep.”
“Have you ever done something heroic?” Tay asked.
“I’ve never saved anyone’s life at the risk of my own. I’ve never been in that position.”
“Nor me. I like to think I’d make the right choice if it came down to it, but I don’t know if I would. A split-second decision that could end your own life as well.”
“I don’t know if that would even go through your mind, though. I think heroism can often just be a snap reaction as much as a considered response. You see someone drowning, you jump in to save them. You see a truck speeding towards someone, you shove them out of the way. You see a car on fire and someone trapped inside, you try to get them free.”
Ink pushed him towards a little fenced off pond with a small fountain and Dog jumped down to sniff around. Tay kept hold of his lead and Ink smiled.
“Just across the road there was once a pub calledThe Bull and Mouthwhich was where the first mail coaches left from,” Ink said. “A post office replaced the pub and Marconi transmitted the first wireless signals from the roof. I think the postmen used to eat their lunch in this park.”
“The Bull and Mouthis an odd name for a pub.”
“It was originally Boulogne Mouth, for the entrance to the harbour at Boulogne, but it got corrupted to Bull and Mouth.”
Tay turned to look at him. “How do you know all that?”
“I like to research places I discover. You want to get out and have a walk on your crutches?”
“Not really.”
“I don’t want to have to buy a cattle prod, and I don’t have a pocket full of chocolate, but it seems to me as if you need more physio. Did they give you exercises to do?”
“Yes.”
“And do you do them?”
“Sometimes.”
“Okay. New regime. Every day you do the exercises. Every day you walk a little further on your crutches.”
“Or what?”
“Or…you don’t get to see my tattoo.”
