A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,4

was struggling.

From the moment his parents had arrived, they’d been busy. His mother had tutted at the state of everything, then gone out and bought a load of cleaning products. She’d also filled his fridge with stuff she thought he should be eating. Her entire morning had been spent dusting, wiping, hoovering and nagging. It was a repeat of the day they’d reluctantly brought him here, two months ago. They’d been shocked by his decision to live in London, but ultimately helped him achieve it.

His dad had cleaned the windows, tightened up loose screws, replaced a couple of light bulbs, moved the furniture to make it easier for Tay to get around on his crutches, adjusted the window blinds and tacked down the loose carpet in the bedroom. Since he could trip over a hair, it probably wouldn’t make much difference. Most importantly, his father had started to fix his wheelchair, but the part he’d had to order wouldn’t be there until tomorrow morning. Tay hoped it arrived before his parents left because his dad was the handyman, not him.

Tay braced himself for the interrogation he knew was coming.

“Do you like living here?” his mother asked.

Er… “Yes.”

“Are you happy?” she asked.

No. “Yes.” But the truth was he wouldn’t be happy anywhere.

“What about your job?” she said. “How’s it going?”

Er… “Really well.” Sometimes, there was too much noise in his head for him to concentrate, so everything took twice as long as it should. Things that had seemed easy before, he now struggled with. The dream of him becoming a much sought-after forensic accountant was dead. He was doing the job, but not shining. He still hoped for a miracle.

“You don’t find it lonely working from home?” His mother sipped her drink.

Tay was aware how carefully his father was watching him.

Yes. “Not really. Anyway, I’m not up to office hours and using public transport to get to work. Not yet.”

“How’s the physio going?” His mother was watching him just as carefully as his father now.

“Fine. I’m fine. Work’s fine. The flat’s fine. Life’s fine. No problems.” Oh God. He shouldn’t have said all that because it was like waving a red flag declaring everything was not fine. Fine was a horrible word anyway. As bad as nice.

His father tapped his fingers on the table.

His mother chuckled. “You know the tapping means he doesn’t believe you.”

“And it hurts.” Tay put a forlorn expression on his face.

“It’s like Chinese water torture,” she said. “He won’t stop.”

Tay managed a laugh. “Okay, yes, I still have a few problems. You can see I do. I’m fed up of wrangling the wheelchair down the steps onto the pavement. I’ve not made as much progress with walking as I’d hoped. In my last supermarket delivery, someone substituted a coconut for coconut shampoo, and I ate the entire box of After Eight mints that I’d bought for you as a surprise to take on holiday.”

His father chuckled, his mother rolled her eyes, and Tay made sure he didn’t let his relief show. What he’d said was true, but the bigger truths were still safe. I’m unhappy. I’m lonely. I wish I was back in the north. I think I’m addicted to painkillers.

More than think.

“We did say you should have looked for a place with a ramp,” his mother pointed out.

Tay chewed his cheeks. Yes, they had, but he’d liked the look of the flat in the virtual tour. It was close to the shops and not too far from central London, though he’d made a mistake. The steps up to the front door being one of them.

“This area isn’t…” One look from his father and his mother shut up.

No, the area wasn’t a good one. He’d hoped for bistro cafés, places he could sit and drink coffee, read a book, maybe meet people. He wanted shops that sold gourmet cheese, every variety of fudge, micropubs, small independent retailers selling all sorts of stuff, but that wasn’t what he’d got. Like most other areas of London, this one had good and bad parts. Tay wasn’t sure if the Red Lion pub was good or bad. Part of him wished he’d never set foot in there.

“Any biscuits?” his father asked.

“Yeah.” Tay gritted his teeth as he pushed to his feet. Two steps to the cupboard. He could do that without his crutches. His parents knew better than to offer to help. But when he lifted the tin from the shelf, it slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor.