A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,7

to get that money. But he’d have to rest for a moment or he wouldn’t even make it as far as his door.

He glared at his wheelchair, though it was his own fault it was damaged. He’d let it clatter down the steps when he’d been trying to move it onto the pavement, and fucked up the brake. He’d have to manage with his forearm crutches. He put on his jacket and pocketed his wallet and keys before he stepped into the foyer. Once he was through the outer door, he shivered. He needed his coat, not his jacket, but he didn’t go back. If he did, he’d not come out again, and he’d be tempted to do something stupid like give Lennie, or whoever Lennie sent with his package, his bank card and his PIN. He was quite capable of being that stupid when he felt desperate.

Pull yourself together. You can do this. Tay took a deep breath and carefully made his way down the steps to the pavement. He was dragging his left leg more than usual. Christ. Something else the matter with him now?

He made it across the road without being run over, which was almost a pity, but quite an achievement considering the speed he was going. His phone rang as he walked through the garden square that divided one line of houses from another. Once upon a time, this would have been a desirable place to live, the Georgian houses lining the square like stately ladies decaying at the fringes. Now the glory had faded, wood was peeling, railings rusting, and everywhere had multiple occupants. When the phone didn’t stop ringing, he pulled it from his pocket.

“Have you called them yet?” his mother asked.

For fuck’s… “You only left five minutes ago.”

“Thirty minutes.”

Shit! Was it? “Not yet.” Tay sagged. Could he get all the way to the cash machine and back? “You phone them. You know what I need, what I like, what I don’t.”

“Do I?”

“Just arrange for people to come and I’ll pick one. Not a woman. No bushy beards. No one with a whip.”

His mum laughed. God, he liked making her laugh. He’d done little enough of that over the last year.

“Is that all?” she asked.

“No one with pets. No one who talks a lot. Someone older than me.” No one with white blond hair. No one with piercings. No one who will remind me of Jonty in any way whatsoever.

“Are you outside? Did I hear a bird tweet?”

“Going for a walk.”

“That’s great. Well done! Fresh air will do you good. Did you put on your coat? It’s chilly today.”

“Yes.” He hoped she wasn’t watching.

“I’ll let you know when the agency has a list of candidates. I want them there tomorrow before we set off for the ship. We’ll come early so your dad has a chance to mend the chair. They promised the part would arrive first thing.”

“Fine.”

“Are you feeling all right? You’re far too amenable.”

“I’m still breathing.”

“Tay…”

He heard the concern in her voice. “I’m okay. I won’t overdo it.”

“I couldn’t bear it if…”

A lump formed in his throat. “I’m fine. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.” He’d already done something stupid.

He slid the phone back into his jacket pocket. It was only the thought of the pills arriving at his flat and him not being there with the money that drove him forward.

It was hard not to feel sorry for himself, though he really tried not to. Self-pity was a fucking greedy bastard, always nibbling away at him, but he was so fucking miserable. There was nothing to look forward to because there was only one thing that could make his world turn again, and that was Jonty knocking on his door with that brilliant smile on his face telling him that he’d dumped Devan because he’d realised it was Tay he loved. Oh look. A flock of flying pigs.

He loved and hated Jonty in equal measure.

Fuck it, I don’t. If Jonty turned up now, Tay would be so happy.

He managed a few more metres, then stopped to have a rest. This was the furthest he’d ever walked with his crutches. He was only supposed to be going short distances until his hospital appointment next week. He slowly made his way down the high street, shambling along like a drunk. At least the crutches made it clear alcohol wasn’t a problem. He hoped.

Once he’d accepted that he wasn’t living somewhere trendy, he was amused by the high street.