A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,75
to his feet. “Sorry.”
Ink followed him down the corridor and into Mr Jessop’s room.
“Tay! How are you doing? Come and sit down.”
“This is my friend Ink.”
“Nice to meet you, Ink.”
Tay was honest in his answers to the doctor’s questions. At least this time he was able to say he wasn’t taking painkillers, though he still got headaches sometimes.
“How’s your concentration?” Mr Jessop asked.
“Oh, look at that fly,” Tay said.
Ink laughed and the consultant smiled.
“Getting better and better,” Tay said.
The consultant watched him walk, checked his mobility and his reflexes, asked him questions about his memory, if he had difficulty with anything, how much exercise he was doing, whether he was depressed, sleeping okay, if he had mood swings… A week ago, he’d have lied about some of that.
“I’m pleased with your progress. Your speech is faster too. If the headaches get any worse, and don’t respond to painkillers, call and make an appointment, but I’m hoping they’ll fade away. You don’t need to see me anymore unless you feel you want to. Keep up your exercises and you can dispense with the wheelchair, then one crutch, then both. You’ve done remarkably well. Do you have any questions?”
“Can I drive?”
“Do you think you’d be safe driving?”
“I have an automatic. Not in London. It’s at my parents’ house.”
“You should be fine.”
“Is there anything he shouldn’t do?” Ink asked.
“What are you thinking of?”
Ink shrugged. “Free climbing, base jumping, bull riding, scuba diving.”
Tay huffed. “More like cycling, surfing and horse riding.”
“You’re so boring.” Ink grinned at him.
“I’m going to assume some of those are jokes, but three years post injury before you try scuba diving. With cycling, riding and surfing— you’ll be fine once your balance is back. Regular exercise is excellent, just take care and if you’re doing something potentially dangerous, have someone with you.”
“You don’t want to have to cut your arm off if you get stuck somewhere,” Ink said. “If I was with you, I could do it for you.”
“Not funny.” But Tay smiled.
“I think that’s the first smile I’ve seen from you,” the consultant said. “You’re a poster boy for recovery from a minimally conscious state. Don’t get too downhearted if your progress slows at times. You’ll have good and bad days. It’s very easy to get depressed. Don’t let things deteriorate too far before you look for help. Okay? So you’re good to go live the rest of your life. And in the nicest possible way, I hope I don’t see you again.” The consultant pushed to his feet.
Tay shook his hand. “Thank you.”
“Good luck.”
When they were out of the room and on their way back to the lift, Tay sighed. “Could you really cut off my arm?”
“Let’s hope we never have to find out.”
“Seriously though, could you?”
“I think we’d be surprised what we’d do to save a life.”
Chapter Twelve
COVENT GARDEN WAS ELECTRIC WITH people, music and laughter. Ink tried to keep out of everyone’s way, but it was slow-going with a wheelchair. People were either gathered together to watch someone perform or they were strolling and changing direction every few seconds when something in a shop window caught their eye. There was a lot to catch the eye.
Ink stopped pushing so they could watch some of the performance art: a guy juggling with chairs and packets of biscuits at the same time, an amusing mime artist who imitated people walking past, and a woman wrapped in chains who told hilarious jokes while she extricated herself from her bindings. Everywhere Ink looked, there was something different to see and the overall feeling was one of happiness, people enjoying themselves on a warm summer’s evening.
As were he and Tay.
“Wow, look at those bubbles,” Tay said.
Long, shimmering bubble snakes twisted across the heads of those watching, their rainbow interiors glistening in the sun as they formed into circles and eventually popped.
Tay laughed. “I’ve not blown bubbles since I was a kid and they were never as big as that.”
“I used to love seeing how high they’d go. If they’d fly over the roof.” He and Ru had taken turns blowing or popping. Ink felt the usual stab of pain at the thought of his brother.
“If we see a shop selling bubble mix, I want to buy some,” Tay said. “Well, I want you to buy some. Obviously, I’m far too cool and sophisticated to get excited about soap bubbles.”
“Right.”
“Have you ever busked here?” Tay asked.
“No. You have to audition for the big pitches and they want acts rather than solo guitar