- •I was starting to lag behind. I hate running. I hated him for not slowing down.
- •I stared at him.
- •I tried to peer round at the screen.
- •In our street ‘posh’ could mean anyone who hadn’t got a family member in possession of an asbo.
- •I helped myself to green beans, trying to look more sanguine than I felt.
- •I wondered briefly how many carers there had been before me.
- •I picked up one of the labels. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen so many drugs outside a pharmacy.
- •I blushed. ‘I’m sorry. I was just –’
- •I slid my legs sideways down the wall and pushed myself up to a seated position.
- •I tried to think. ‘I don’t really have any hobbies. I read a bit. I like clothes.’
- •I filled the log basket, noting that several inches of snow had now settled. I made Will a fresh drink, and then knocked. When I knocked again, I did so loudly.
- •I stared at the books in his bookshelf. Among the novels, the well-thumbed Penguin paperbacks, were business titles: Corporate Law, TakeOver, directories of names I did not recognize.
- •I thought for a bit.
- •I’m not sure I moved for half an hour.
- •It was not, they observed with exquisite understatement, a cry for help.
- •I slowed my pace, pushing my way through the small crowd until I was able to get to our gate, watching as Richard ducked to avoid a dvd player. Next came a pair of shoes.
- •I took a deep breath. ‘I overheard you. You and your daughter. Last night. And I don’t want to … I don’t want to be part of it.’
- •I made to get out of the car. Her hand shot out. It sat there on my arm, strange and radioactive. We both stared at it.
- •I checked the list. ‘Quadriplegic basketball? I’m not even sure if he likes basketball.’
- •I wrinkled my nose. ‘I don’t know, Treen –’
- •I ignored him. ‘Right. We’ve made it. Now for the fun bit.’
- •I felt my eyes suddenly brim with tears. ‘No,’ I said. ‘This is ridiculous. We’ve come all this way. You stay here and I’ll go and get us all Premier Area badges. And then we will have our meal.’
- •I grabbed my bag and thrust it under my arm.
- •I had refused to listen to him. I couldn’t bear the idea that this was how our day was going to end.
- •It seemed to take a minute or two for them to digest what I’d said. But then they looked at each other in amazement.
- •It was about half an hour before I realized the other girls had gone.
- •I was about to say no, and then I realized I didn’t really know why I was refusing. ‘All right. I’ll bring them back as soon as I’ve finished.’
- •I realized he was looking for an excuse not to go. ‘I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘If Will tells me what to do. I don’t mind staying to help.’ I said it almost before I realized what I was agreeing to.
- •I leant over and ran my finger around the inside of it; a nylon tag had been left inside. I pulled at it, hoping to snap it, but it proved stubbornly resistant.
- •I couldn’t help but notice that his leg was becoming weirdly sinewy.
- •It broke the ice. Nathan left with a wave and a wink, and I wheeled Will through to the kitchen. Mum, luckily, was holding a casserole dish, which absolved her of the same anxiety.
- •If it was Dad, I told Will, he would have had an adapted beer cup before he had a wheelchair.
- •I leant back and reached my hand downwards into his bag. I pulled it up again, retrieving a bottle of Laurent-Perrier champagne.
- •I stood up and bowed. I was wearing a 1960s yellow a-line minidress I had got from the charity shop. The woman had thought it might be Biba, although someone had cut the label out.
- •I got up to clear the plates, wanting to escape the table. But Mum scolded me, telling me to sit down.
- •I turned away, pretending to peer into a shop window, unsure if I wanted him to know that I had seen them, and tried very hard not to think about it again.
- •I pulled a tendril from the honeysuckle and began picking off its leaves. ‘I don’t know. I think I’m going to need to up my game.’ I told her what Mrs Traynor had said to me about going abroad.
- •I poured some soup from a flask and held it up to his lips. ‘Tomato.’
- •I put down my peeler. ‘I suspect you’re going to tell me.’
- •I slid off the table. I wasn’t entirely sure how, but I felt, yet again, like I’d somehow been argued into a corner. I reached for the chopping board on the drainer.
- •I glanced down the street, then turned and peeled a little of the dressing down from my hip.
- •I put the last peg back in the peg bag. I rolled it up, and placed it in the empty laundry basket. I turned to him.
- •I began to compile a new list – things you cannot do with a quadriplegic.
- •I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I felt the colour rise to my face, and took a deep breath before I spoke again.
- •I just wanted to make it better.
- •I put Will’s glass in his holder and shook the younger man’s hand.
- •I watched Will drain two glasses of Pimm’s and was secretly glad.
- •I blinked.
- •I couldn’t really blame the guy. I wouldn’t have wanted my missus staying out all night with some bloke, even if he was a quad. And he hadn’t seen the way Will looked at her.
- •I hesitated, just a moment too long. ‘That’s not true.’
- •I understood what she was saying. There was no time for anything else.
- •It was a quarter to ten by the time I got back to Patrick’s.
- •I stared at him.
- •I sat down and looked at the table.
- •I sank my face into my hands and let it rest there for a minute. Out in the corridor I heard a fire door swing, and the voices of people swallowed up as a door was unlocked and closed behind them.
- •I would have said to Camilla that she brightened the place up. But I couldn’t make that sort of remark to Camilla any more.
- •I left my bag with Nathan, cleaned my hands with antibacterial lotion, then pushed at the door and entered.
- •I was about to protest, and tell them they should not have moved him. But Will had closed his eyes and lay there with a look of such unexpected contentment that I just closed my mouth and nodded.
- •I felt his fingers tighten a fraction around mine, and it gave me courage.
- •I had begun to cry. ‘Please, Will. Please don’t say this. Just give me a chance. Give us a chance.’
- •I felt frozen, my hand clutching my passport like I was about to go somewhere else. I had to remind myself to breathe.
- •I couldn’t speak. I stared at her, and the most I could manage was a small shake of my head.
- •I am the one in the family who knows everything. I read more than anyone else. I go to university. I am the one who is supposed to have all the answers.
- •I had been hoping it was extra grant money.
- •I gave a tiny shrug. ‘Just okay? They must have given you some idea how you did.’
- •I’m not sure I ever saw Dad look so shocked.
- •I glanced up at Granddad, but he had eyes only for the racing. I think Dad was still putting on a sneaky bet each way for him, even though he denied it to Mum.
- •I turned towards the bed. ‘So,’ I said, my bag over my shoulder, ‘I’m guessing the room service isn’t up to much?’
It broke the ice. Nathan left with a wave and a wink, and I wheeled Will through to the kitchen. Mum, luckily, was holding a casserole dish, which absolved her of the same anxiety.
‘Mum, this is Will. Will, Josephine.’
‘Josie, please.’ She beamed at him, her oven gloves up to her elbows. ‘Lovely to meet you finally, Will.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. ‘Don’t let me interrupt.’
She put down the dish and her hand went to her hair, always a good sign with my mother. It was a shame she hadn’t remembered to take an oven glove off first.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Roast dinner. It’s all in the timing, you know.’
‘Not really,’ Will said. ‘I’m not a cook. But I love good food. It’s why I have been looking forward to tonight.’
‘So … ’ Dad opened the fridge. ‘How do we do this? Do you have a special beer … cup, Will?’
If it was Dad, I told Will, he would have had an adapted beer cup before he had a wheelchair.
‘Got to get your priorities right,’ Dad said. I rummaged in Will’s bag until I found his beaker.
‘Beer will be fine. Thank you.’
He took a sip and I stood in the kitchen, suddenly conscious of our tiny, shabby house with its 1980s wallpaper and dented kitchen cupboards. Will’s home was elegantly furnished, its things sparse and beautiful. Our house looked as if 90 per cent of its contents came from the local pound shop. Thomas’s dog-eared paintings covered every spare surface of wall. But if he had noticed, Will said nothing. He and Dad had quickly found a shared point of reference, which turned out to be my general uselessness. I didn’t mind. It kept them both happy.
‘Did you know, she once drove backwards into a bollard and swore it was the bollard’s fault … ’
‘You want to see her lowering my ramp. It’s like Ski Sunday coming out of that car sometimes … ’
Dad burst out laughing.
I left them to it. Mum followed me out, fretting. She put a tray of glasses on to the dining table, then glanced up at the clock. ‘Where’s Patrick?’
‘He was coming straight from training,’ I said. ‘Perhaps he’s been held up.’
‘He couldn’t put it off just for your birthday? This chicken is going to be spoilt if he’s much longer.’
‘Mum, it will be fine.’
I waited until she had put the tray down, and then I slid my arms around her and gave her a hug. She was rigid with anxiety. I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for her. It couldn’t be easy being my mother.
‘Really. It will be fine.’
She let go of me, kissed the top of my head, and brushed her hands down her apron. ‘I wish your sister was here. It seems wrong to have a celebration without her.’
Not to me it didn’t. Just for once, I was quite enjoying being the focus of attention. It might sound childish, but it was true. I loved having Will and Dad laughing about me. I loved the fact that every element of supper – from roast chicken to chocolate mousse – was my favourite. I liked the fact that I could be who I wanted to be without my sister’s voice reminding me of who I had been.
The doorbell rang, and Mum flapped her hands. ‘There he is. Lou, why don’t you start serving?’
Patrick was still flushed from his exertions at the track. ‘Happy birthday, babe,’ he said, stooping to kiss me. He smelt of aftershave and deodorant and warm, recently showered skin.
‘Best go straight through.’ I nodded towards the living room. ‘Mum’s having a timing meltdown.’
‘Oh.’ He glanced down at his watch. ‘Sorry. Must have lost track of time.’
‘Not your time, though, eh?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
Dad had moved the big gateleg table into the living room. He had also, on my instruction, moved one of the sofas to the other wall so that Will would be able to enter the room unobstructed. He manoeuvred his wheelchair to the placing I pointed to, and then elevated himself a little so that he would be the same height as everyone else. I sat on his left, and Patrick sat opposite. He and Will and Granddad nodded their hellos. I had already warned Patrick not to try to shake his hand. Even as I sat down I could feel Will studying Patrick, and I wondered, briefly, whether he would be as charming to my boyfriend as he had been to my parents.
Will inclined his head towards me. ‘If you look in the back of the chair, there’s a little something for the dinner.’