- •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?’
I gave a tiny shrug. ‘Just okay? They must have given you some idea how you did.’
‘I got it.’
‘What?’
She was still looking down at her plate. I stopped chewing.
‘They said I was exactly the kind of applicant they were looking for. I’ve got to do some kind of foundation course, which takes a year, and then I can convert it.’
Dad sat back in his chair. ‘That’s fantastic news.’
Mum reached over and patted her shoulder. ‘Oh, well done, love. That’s brilliant.’
‘Not really. I don’t think I can afford four years of study.’
‘Don’t you worry about that just now. Really. Look how well Treena’s managing. Hey –’ he nudged her ‘– we’ll find a way. We always find a way, don’t we?’ Dad beamed at us both. ‘I think everything’s turning around for us, now, girls. I think this is going to be a good time for this family.’
And then, out of nowhere, she burst into tears. Real tears. She cried like Thomas cries, wailing, all snot and tears and not caring who hears, her sobs breaking through the silence of the little room like a knife.
Thomas stared at her, open-mouthed, so that I had to haul him on to my lap and distract him so that he didn’t get upset too. And while I fiddled with bits of potato and talking peas and made silly voices, she told them.
She told them everything – about Will and the six-month contract and what had happened when they went to Mauritius. As she spoke, Mum’s hands went to her mouth. Granddad looked solemn. The chicken grew cold, the gravy congealing in its boat.
Dad shook his head in disbelief. And then, as my sister detailed her flight home from the Indian Ocean, her voice dropping to a whisper as she spoke of her last words to Mrs Traynor, he pushed his chair back and stood up. He walked slowly around the table and he took her in his arms, like he had when we were little. He stood there and held her really, really tightly to him.
‘Oh Jesus Christ, the poor fella. And poor you. Oh Jesus.’
I’m not sure I ever saw Dad look so shocked.
‘What a bloody mess.’
‘You went through all this? Without saying anything? And all we got was a postcard about scuba diving?’ My mother was incredulous. ‘We thought you were having the holiday of a lifetime.’
‘I wasn’t alone. Treena knew,’ she said, looking at me. ‘Treena was great.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ I said, hugging Thomas. He had lost interest in the conversation now that Mum had put an open tin of Celebrations in front of him. ‘I was just an ear. You did the lot. You came up with all the ideas.’
‘And some ideas they turned out to be.’ She leant against Dad, sounding bereft.
Dad tilted her chin so that she had to look at him. ‘But you did everything you could.’
‘And I failed.’
‘Who says you failed?’ Dad stroked her hair back from her face. His expression was tender. ‘I’m just thinking of what I know about Will Traynor, what I know about men like him. And I’ll say one thing to you. I’m not sure anyone in the world was ever going to persuade that man once he’d set his mind to something. He’s who he is. You can’t make people change who they are.’
‘But his parents! They can’t let him kill himself,’ said Mum. ‘What kind of people are they?’
‘They’re normal people, Mum. Mrs Traynor just doesn’t know what else she can do.’
‘Well, not bloody taking him to this clinic would be a start.’ Mum was angry. Two points of colour had risen to her cheekbones. ‘I would fight for you two, for Thomas, until my dying breath.’
‘Even if he’d already tried to kill himself?’ I said. ‘In really grim ways?’
‘He’s ill, Katrina. He’s depressed. People who are vulnerable should not be given the chance to do something that they’ll … ’ She tailed off in mute fury and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. ‘That woman must be heartless. Heartless. And to think they got Louisa involved in all this. She’s a magistrate, for goodness’ sake. You’d think a magistrate would know what was right or wrong. Of all people. I’ve a good mind to head down there now and bring him back here.’
‘It’s complicated, Mum.’
‘No. It’s not. He’s vulnerable and there is no way on earth she should entertain the thought of it. I’m shocked. That poor man. That poor man.’ She got up from the table, taking the remains of the chicken with her, and stalked out to the kitchen.
Louisa watched her go, her expression a little stunned. Mum was never angry. I think the last time we heard her raise her voice was 1993.
Dad shook his head, his mind apparently elsewhere. ‘I’ve just thought – no wonder I haven’t seen Mr Traynor. I wondered where he was. I assumed they were all off on some family holiday.’
‘They’ve … they’ve gone?’
‘He’s not been in these last two days.’
Lou sat back down and slumped in her chair.
‘Oh shit,’ I said, and then clamped my hands around Thomas’s ears.
‘It’s tomorrow.’
Lou looked at me, and I glanced up at the calendar on the wall.
‘The thirteenth of August. It’s tomorrow.’
Lou did nothing that last day. She was up before me, staring out of the kitchen window. It rained, and then it cleared, and then it rained again. She lay on the sofa with Granddad, and she drank the tea that Mum made her, and every half an hour or so I watched her gaze slide silently towards the mantelpiece and check the clock. It was awful to watch. I took Thomas swimming and I tried to make her come with us. I said Mum would mind him if she wanted to go to the shops with me later. I said I’d take her to the pub, just the two of us, but she refused every offer.
‘What if I made a mistake, Treen?’ she said, so quietly that only I could hear it.