in the north, his parents would have seen how low he’d fallen.
“I’ll go online and buy you a bed,” his mother said to Ink and took out her phone.
“Thank you.” He smiled at her.
Ink’s face lit up when he smiled. There was a slightly unusual look to his features that Tay couldn’t identify. His accent was neutral. No clue there. He was a couple of inches shorter than Tay, but just as skinny.
They all went into the main room, Tay bringing up the rear.
“What’s your real name?” his father asked.
Ink took out a wallet and showed him his bank card.
His father huffed a laugh. “Ink Farrow. I thought Ink must have been short for something or a nickname.”
“No.”
“I need to sit down,” Tay muttered. The noise in his head was increasing in volume.
Ink turned to him and moved aside. “Do you know where the couch is? Need me to navigate? Check for obstructions or booby traps? Sweep crumbs from your path in case you trip?”
His mother laughed and Tay huffed. “I think I can find it.”
“Tay needs more help than he’s prepared to admit to,” his father said.
“Are you telling me not to listen if he says he’s fine?” Ink asked.
“Hey!” Tay protested.
“He’ll say he’s fine when he’s not.” His father glanced at him. “It’s his favourite word. Don’t just accept what he tells you.”
“He’s very stubborn,” his mother added, then went back onto her phone.
“Thanks, guys. I am here.” Tay settled on the couch and held in his groan of relief.
“We’re going on a three-month cruise and we need to be able to trust whoever looks after him.” His father stared at Ink.
“I’m not completely helpless,” Tay said through gritted teeth.
“I’m reliable.” Ink met Tay’s father’s gaze. “The last thing I’d want to do is to hurt anyone.”
“I hope that’s true.” Tay’s father wasn’t looking happy. “I’d feel more comfortable if Helper had sent you because they do a criminal record check. We know nothing about you. You could have just come out of prison or be running a scam or…be a serial killer.”
“Jeff!” his mother snapped.
His father glared at her. “You’ll worry.”
“He has a dog,” she said.
“What does that have to do with anything?” his father asked.
“That dog loves him.”
Ink glanced at the dog who wagged his tail and looked up at him.
“Tell me about yourself,” his father said.
“You hit the nail on the head. I’ve just completed a ten-year prison sentence for murder.”
His mother and father gasped, and Tay laughed. “Locked up when you were ten?”
Ink smiled. “You got me. I have no family. I have eight GCSEs and 4 A levels with pretty good grades. I didn’t go to college. I’ve never taken drugs. I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. I do swear.”
Tay gave a quiet sigh. “You don’t drink?”
Ink glanced at him. “I’m not against drinking, but I have better things to spend my money on. Your money though…”
“Annoying habits?” his father asked and Tay wanted to laugh.
“Tay and I talked about that. I guess I might have some, but then so will Tay. We can soften each other’s edges. I can wean him off his habit of singing opera in the shower and reading when he’s on the loo.”
“Hey, I—”
Tay’s protest was swallowed by Ink’s voice. “I’ve lived in shared accommodation a lot. I’ve rarely had a problem getting on with people.”
“So you’ve had problems?” his father said.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“How?” His father was pushing too hard. Tay didn’t want him to push Ink away.
“Dad!”
Ink shrugged. “It’s okay. By speaking out or walking away, depending on the situation. I don’t like confrontation, but I stand my ground when I need to.”
“What about your dog?” his father asked.
“Dog isn’t mine. He latched onto me after I fed him. I didn’t know what to do with him so I decided to keep him until I could find him a good home. I don’t want him to be put down. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?”
“Every dog in the UK has to be microchipped and wear a tag with the owner’s name, address and phone number,” his father said.
“So Dog should have a chip?” Ink asked.
“If you’d taken him to a vet or a rescue centre, they’d have checked.”
“Oh. Guess I should take him then.”
“There might be some small child mourning the loss of their pet.” His father frowned.
“Or the dog might not have a microchip,” Tay said.
His father glanced at him. “That’s true.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing looking after him.” Ink