A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,13

and picked up Dog. Once they were outside, he attached the lead. As they reached the end of the street, a police car, then an ambulance passed him. He held his breath but he wasn’t stopped.

That was the good news, the bad that it was an unseasonably cold night for June, and too late to find a space in a hostel that he’d have to sneak Dog into anyway. Ink felt his days in London were numbered. Plenty of other towns to find somewhere to stay, but his immediate issue was tonight.

He headed back to the high street. Sad Guy lived at 17 Rimmington Road. Ink had followed him the second time he’d seen him. Hopefully, Ink could find a spot to spend the night and tomorrow, he’d wait for him on the high street and if he didn’t come, he’d knock on his door, hoping that didn’t freak him out. And if he didn’t want Dog, Ink would just push him inside and run. Maybe that was the better plan anyway.

It must have been recycling collection the next day because as well as the green bins, there were lots of flattened cardboard boxes, so Ink picked up a couple as he passed. There weren’t many people around but he was still careful as he slipped into the gardens between Rimmington Road and Bexley Road. If he was seen, someone might call the police. Usually, they just told him to move on, but there was always the chance they might arrest him for vagrancy, which would mean he’d have to give his name, and that might start bells ringing.

He found a sheltered spot behind some leafy bushes and laid out the cardboard. Fortunately, the ground was dry. Once he was in his sleeping bag with his beanie on, and Dog’s lead around his wrist, he closed his eyes. It would be so easy to give in. He wondered why he didn’t.

Ruari.

Ink sucked in a breath. It was rare he let his brother’s name into his head, but he kept him always in his heart. He wasn’t sure he’d ever totally accepted Ruari was dead, despite the evidence and what everyone had said. Ink was the only person in the world who still clung to the belief that some mistake had been made and his brother was alive, because that was his only hope for his life to change.

Sometimes, it felt as if things couldn’t get any worse. Maybe being ill would be the final straw, the point when he’d decide he’d had enough. Dog licked his face and Ink chuckled. Not good that the closest he got to affection with another living creature was with Dog. What if Sad Guy didn’t like his face being licked? What if he threw Dog out? Ink sighed. He’d have to wait to make sure Dog was safe.

Sleep was elusive. The noises in the small park unnerved him. He hoped it was just birds or squirrels and not rats, which freaked him out. He’d once had one nibble his hand. Tomorrow, he’d get Dog into his new home, then he’d walk to a train station, withdraw a chunk of cash and buy a ticket. Fifth destination on the third board as long as it was nowhere near London. Cornwall might be nice.

WHEN THE RUMBLE OF TRAFFIC grew louder and Ink couldn’t deny the sun was up, he fed and watered Dog, then packed up his stuff. He and Dog took a piss behind the bushes before they emerged. Ink used a tiny squirt of hand gel. His one indulgence because he rarely had chance to wash his hands. He propped the cardboard boxes next to a rubbish bin and made his way to the high street. Waiting for the guy to come when the odds were that he wouldn’t was a waste of time. He’d definitely been struggling on his crutches yesterday. But it was too early to knock on his door.

Ink picked a different place to sit and took out his guitar. He played Bruno Mars’ The Lazy Song first, then switched to Why Does It Always Rain On Me when it started to drizzle, which got him several smiles and a few pound coins. Luckily, the rain didn’t last. He sang Yellow by Coldplay, I’ve Just Seen A Face by the Beatles, and was about to start another, when he felt someone had been watching for too long. A quick glance told him it was a guy, but not Carter. Even so…