An abundance of charity shops, cut-price off-licences, an undertaker called Butcher, a jeweller with windows so barred it was hard to see what was on display, a shop selling colourful saris, a tiny prefab library and a spy shop, among others. Oh yeah, and The Red Lion where he’d met Lennie.
As he lurched down the pavement, most people moved out of his way, some—who were on their phones—almost walked into him. A few stared. He didn’t care about the stares. Liar. Determination coupled with desperation got him to the machine. He withdrew his money and tucked it away in his wallet before stuffing it deep into the inside pocket of his jacket which he zipped.
The thought of the return journey filled him with dread. There was a bench near the road and Tay decided to rest for a while before he made the trek back. He slid his arms from his crutches, and as he lowered himself onto the seat, a guy dropped down on the other end of the bench. Between him and Tay, he put a rolled up sleeping bag, and a backpack. Homeless?
“Excuse me.”
It was a moment before Tay realised he was being addressed, and he tensed. He’d just been to the cash machine, and was in no state to chase a robber. Had this guy seen him and was after his money? Did he have a sob story? A knife? A gun? Fuck!
“Do you think you could watch the dog and my stuff while I go into the café?”
Tay came back to reality with a bump and looked across to see a young dark-haired guy holding out a frayed rope lead. Attached to the lead was a small black and white dog of indeterminate breed, but nothing that would win Crufts. He had oversized ears that stuck up on his head as if they were trying to keep him upright. The guy had put a bowl of water at the front of the bench.
“Dog’s no trouble. He’ll just sit and wait.”
“Okay.” Tay took the rope and the dog came to his feet and lay with his nose on Tay’s shoe.
“Thanks.”
Tay couldn’t think anyone would want this mutt, nor the dirty-looking sleeping bag, or the tattered backpack and the longer canvas bag that was attached to it. He was struck by a pang of sadness. At least he had a place to live. He wasn’t entirely reliant on his intermittent accountancy work, but still… Compared to some, he was lucky.
“What’s your name, boy?” Tay bent and tickled behind the mongrel’s ears.
The dog rolled onto his side and looked up at him, then rested his head back on Tay’s foot. A dog would be company, but Tay couldn’t handle one yet, not the walks and everything else that went with owning a dog. Sometimes, he struggled to get out of bed in the morning. On those days, he gave in to how he felt and stayed where he was. Plus, when one of his headaches struck, he was useless for hours, and he definitely had one brewing. More than brewing.
He’d not thought through what life would be like in London before he’d insisted it was where he wanted to live. It was so big, he’d imagined it was an easy place to get lost in, except he was more lost than he’d wanted to be. It wasn’t even far enough from Northumberland for him not to be tempted to go back. Another country might have been better. He also didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, and yet his parents never stopped worrying about him. And Jonty might not be in his life, but he was most definitely still in his head.
He thought he’d considered the implications, but he hadn’t. Most of his life had been spent in a small town in Northumberland, apart from three years at Newcastle University. But he’d wanted to go somewhere that didn’t remind him of the life he’d lost. And the friend he’d lost. He couldn’t admit to his parents that he longed to go home, how much he missed the sea and Northumberland.
And Jonty.
His throat closed up as he thought about him.
Tay was part way through the six-month contract on his flat. He’d already been asked if he wanted to renew and he was wondering if he did. He’d made no friends. The only person he saw on a regular basis was his drug dealer. If he moved back north, it would be as if he were admitting defeat. But