By My Side (18 page)

I’m sitting in a crowded brasserie, waiting for my date to show up. I examine the menu. I reach down to stroke Ticket. I thought I’d bring him to break the ice. I tap my fingers against the table. It’s one date, Cass. No big deal. Besides, he seems a nice enough guy, and he has a sense of humour. He might need one when he meets Ticket and me.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been chatting online to Julian. I’ve discovered he works in the pharmaceutical industry. I told him I worked for a charity but would love to travel. He replied saying I sounded like a Miss World contestant. ‘Not that I mind that,’ he’d added, with a smiley face. I’ve never been sure about smiley faces, but replied, ‘And I want world peace.’ We began signing our messages with a kiss when ‘kind regards’ or ‘all the best’ sounded too formal.

We’re meeting for brunch. Frankie had suggested this place as there are no steps, and it’s always busy. ‘You don’t want somewhere half dead,’ she’d said, making me think of my first date with Edward.

I pick up the menu again and decide to make my choice now, not dither when he arrives. Why am I so nervous?

Julian doesn’t know I have a spinal cord injury.

When Frankie took photographs of me in a wheelchair I felt uncomfortable and convinced her that no one would see me; they’d only see my chair. I asked her to take a head and shoulders shot instead. I let down my hair and reapplied some make-up to highlight my brown eyes. I explained to a dubious Frankie that it might be a better tactic not to shout immediately, ‘Look at me, I’m in a wheelchair!’ but to meet my date first, let him see that I’m not anything scary. I’m a normal twenty-something girl who happens to be in a wheelchair, and maybe, just maybe, when he gets to know me, the wheelchair won’t seem such a big deal. ‘Trust me, Frankie,’ I’d said. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

I received many replies but I liked the look of Julian most. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes and good dress sense. I realise how much I, too, judge on looks and appearance, but then again, that’s all we have to go on initially.

Maybe I should send a text to someone, to look busy?

Now I spot him. He walks straight past the table. Hurriedly I put away my mobile. ‘Julian?’ I call, heart in my mouth as he turns round. He looks at me and then over my shoulder. ‘Julian?’ I say again, smiling.

‘Cass?’ He approaches the table hesitantly.

I think he’s about to kiss my cheek, but then he shakes my hand, feebly.

‘I grabbed a table. It was getting busy.’

He sits down next to me, glances at my wheelchair, looks back at me with an awkward smile, and then, to cap his confusion, Ticket emerges from underneath the table.

‘Oh. This is Ticket.’

‘Right.’ He strokes him, eyes fixed on his purple coat.

Tell him now. Get it over and done with. I explain briefly that I have spinal cord injury and he’s my assistant dog. ‘Anyway,’ I continue, telling myself to act normal, and not to be paranoid about the disappointed look in his eye. I grab the menu. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’ I couldn’t eat a thing.

When a waitress comes to our table I ask for the first thing on the menu, eggs Benedict. Julian asks for a coffee.

‘You’re not having anything to eat?’ I ask, telling myself again not to be paranoid that he wants to leave as quickly as possible. He orders a croissant.

When our food arrives, he eats his croissant quietly, avoiding eye contact.

‘How’s work?’ I ask. How’s work? God, I’m boring.

‘Good.’ He wipes crumbs away from the corner of his mouth and looks around the restaurant as if waiting for someone else to join him.

‘Did you go to that music gig the other weekend?’

He narrows his eyes, as if he can’t remember, when it was all he could talk about over email last week.

‘Kasabian, wasn’t it?’ I continue.

‘Oh yeah, it was cool.’

‘I went to Glastonbury a couple of years ago.’ It makes me think of Sean. ‘Have you been?’ Oh, Cass, you sound as if you’re interviewing him.

‘Yeah. A few times.’

I wait for him to ask me a question. I wait for some time.

‘You didn’t tell me you were in a wheelchair,’ he says, finally, fidgeting with his watchstrap.

I’m about to explain, but then catch him eying up the waitress. ‘Shall we get the bill?’

*

Once the date, if you could call it that, is over and done with, I call Guy on his mobile. It goes straight to his voicemail. I decide to call his parents’. His mother picks up the telephone.

‘Is that Cass?’

‘Hi, Angie. How are you?’

‘Not too bad, thanks.’ She sounds tired. ‘Guy’s not here, my love. I’ve just put him on a train to see Philip.’

Philip is one of Guy’s oldest school friends. He lives in Norfolk.

‘I wasn’t sure he was up to going really, but then again he’s been so down in the dumps what with all the hospital appointments and missing so much of college, so maybe Philip can cheer him up. I’ll tell him you rang. How are you, my love?’

I put the phone down feeling selfish that I wanted to see him to make my day better, but I miss him too and hate the idea that he’s suffering. At least he’s with a good friend and not alone. I call Jamie in Madrid. He doesn’t answer. Suddenly I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I switch off my mobile and ask Ticket where we should go. I don’t feel like heading back to the flat yet.

I park my car on one of the side streets off High Street Kensington, telling myself that there are lots of things I can do on a Sunday on my own. I can window shop, grab a late lunch, read the weekend papers, take Ticket for a walk in Hyde Park later this afternoon, before it gets too dark.

I make my way down the High Street, adorned with Christmas lights and decorations, and notice a sign in the window of a bookshop that says Benjamin Gooding is giving a reading at one thirty this afternoon. I look at my watch and see that I’m just in time. I remember Jamie telling me how much he liked this crime writer. I decide to go in and see if I can buy him a signed copy. There are lots of shoppers browsing and many heading upstairs.

‘Excuse me?’ I say to a tall woman with tight blonde curls standing behind the till.

‘Are you here for Benjamin Gooding?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s on the second floor.’

‘Great. Is there a lift?’

She looks at me now. ‘No, sorry. Can you walk at all?’

I shake my head and stare at the stairs.

‘I’m afraid it’s not wheelchair accessible. If only you’d called in advance.’

Ticket and I go to Hyde Park. I park my car in our usual spot, close to the Albert Memorial.

It’s a cold winter’s day and everyone is wrapped up warmly in coats, hats and scarves. As we walk past the Serpentine Gallery, my mind wanders to Charlie. We often come here together on a Sunday afternoon, when Libby has returned to her flat. Charlie laughs at me when I pick up Ticket’s poop. ‘It’s the lowest form of human activity, Cass,’ he once said.

‘Not if it’s your dog it isn’t.’

‘Well, according to Seinfield, if aliens were looking down on us they’d think that dogs were the leaders on this planet. If you saw two life forms, one making poop, the other scurrying behind with its pooper scooper picking it up after them, who would you assume was in charge?’

I watch a man in front of me turn to his girlfriend, take her by the arm and pull her towards him. She laughs in the warmth of his embrace. It’s Sunday, they have all the time in the world.

‘I’m never going to have sex again,’ Guy had said over supper one night on our ward. ‘Apparently Mum has got the living room all ready for me, put in a downstairs loo and all that. Fuck, no chance of a one-night stand then.’ He’d laughed dryly. ‘Sorry, Princess.’

‘Stop saying sorry. I’m twenty-fucking-three, Guy.’

Guy reassessed me with a raise of an eyebrow. ‘Well, anyway, imagine me bringing a girl home with Mum’s fancy trinkets and bowls of pot-pourri, the grandfather clock chiming every hour, Mum bustling in with bangers and mash on a tray. Won’t be able to have sex normally again anyway, as the doc so kindly pointed out, so I guess it doesn’t matter.’ But every part of the tremble in his voice shouted that it did, almost as much as not being able to walk again.

‘Why is some girl going to pick us over able-bodied men?’ Guy went on.

‘I bet some women think it’s a turn-on,’ Dom said.

‘Oh, please, Perky, give me a break.’

‘Miranda’s still with me.’ Miranda came to the hospital without fail every evening, straight after work, bringing a basket of fruit into the ward. She’d tried to get Guy to eat a mango but he refused.

‘Ah, now Miranda’s different. You knew her before. Also you can tell she’s not the kind of woman who goes for looks or money.’

‘Are you saying I’m ugly? And poor?’

As Guy and Dom went on arguing, I talked over them. ‘Do you know what Sean used to say?’

Dom and Guy stopped.

‘What?’ Guy asked.

‘He always said he was a “legs man”.’

We all looked at one another, before laughing.

*

That evening I’m in bed, reading, when Charlie knocks on the door and opens it a crack. ‘Hey. Can I come in?’ I haven’t seen Charlie since breakfast, when he and Libby had asked me if Edward and I would like to go to the movies with them. Since they still believe I’m dating Edward, I couldn’t tell them about my Internet date so had pretended I was seeing Guy.

He sits down on the edge of the bed. ‘Thanks for my copy of the
Big Issue
,’ he says.

On my way home I’d picked up some eggs from Sainsbury’s for supper, and told
Big Issue
man about my lousy date and how worried I was about Guy. ‘I’m taking my girls to church tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ll say a few prayers to the good lord for your friend.’

‘Guy called this afternoon,’ Charlie says.

I swallow hard. ‘Did he?’ I had seen a missed call from him earlier this evening, when I’d switched on my mobile again. I sent him a text, promising to call tomorrow.

‘He sent you his love. He said he’d tried you on your mobile? He was all right and that you must stop worrying about him.’

‘Good.’ I’m unable to meet his eye.

‘He called from a train. He said he was on his way to Norfolk?’

‘Um.’

Charlie looks confused. ‘Cass? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ I say on the verge of tears.

‘I feel like we haven’t spoken for a while. I know it’s been a bit weird between us … Cass, why did you pretend you were seeing Guy today?’

I put my book down.

Charlie makes himself more comfortable.

‘I went on a date.’

‘A date? But …’

‘I’m not with Edward.’

‘Oh.’

I pray he won’t ask me to explain.

‘I’m sorry, Cass.’ Charlie senses there’s something more going on.

‘It’s fine, we’re still friends, good friends.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeats. ‘So how was the date?’

‘Oh, Charlie, it was a disaster. He couldn’t get out of the restaurant quick enough. Who cares?’ I say unconvincingly. ‘I’m much more worried about Guy.’

‘He sounded fine, Cass, as if he was looking forward to the break.’

I nod, relieved that I’ve confessed about Edward and that Charlie’s being tactful not to question me. ‘How was your day?’

‘I had to work in the end,’ he says. ‘Libby wasn’t too impressed but I’ve got a big client meeting tomorrow, in Ascot. I’m pitching for this new phone company.’ He pauses. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

‘I’m fine,’ I lie.

‘Try not to worry about Guy,’ he says, kissing me goodnight.

I turn off the light and shut my eyes, but my mind is determined not to go to sleep. In the darkness I am taken back to the time when Charlie was helping me on to the ski lift. I hear us laughing on the slopes, Charlie telling me to slow down, both of us collapsing in a heap at the bottom of the mountain. I remember us dancing that night. Letting go of all my inhibitions. Then my mind races to Guy, Dom and me in hospital, Guy eating his baked beans clumsily with a spoon. I see Guy’s face, his eyes searching for hope. Then I switch to Edward and me, remembering us holding on to one another that night. I picture Libby the first time she’d walked into the kitchen with Charlie. I recall the physical pain of watching them kiss in the garden. I think of
Big Issue
man saying his prayers tonight. I imagine him camping on the floor to make sure his girls sleep well. Who is saying a prayer for their dad?

‘Ticket,’ I call out in the dark. I ask him if he’d like to sleep on my bed, a one-off treat. ‘You’re very lucky you know, I only allow Johnny Depp in my bed,’ I say as he jumps up and snuggles beside me. ‘Oh, Ticket, what would I do without you?’

I’m relieved Christmas is approaching. I want to see Mum and Dad. I miss Jamie.

I need to go home.

Three months later

Spring is approaching and life is good. After six months, I still love my job at Back Up and am planning to go on their multi-activity course this summer. I’m making good friends in the office, especially with Simon who teaches wheelchair skills. Charlotte and I are also becoming close. The thing I enjoy most, however, is not being the new girl any more.

Ticket is three years old and just as handsome as ever in his purple coat. He has become the mascot at Back Up, featuring as a team player on their website. Jamie is home from Madrid and living in Shepherd’s Bush. Charlie and Libby appear happy, but that’s OK. I’m over him. I’m single and giving Internet dating a rest. Sarah and I have lost touch. I’m sad and I do miss her, but perhaps it was inevitable when we lead such different lives now. Dom is the same old Dom. Even Guy has been on much better form too. I think that’s partly due to seeing Philip more this year. Philip and Guy worked together in the City. It seems they did virtually everything together until Philip married and moved out of London. ‘I gave him such grief when he became the family man with the Volvo estate and moved to the middle of nowhere,’ Guy had said.

It’s Sunday and I’m having breakfast with Charlie. I tell him I’m meeting Dom and Guy for a pub lunch in Chiswick.

‘Where are you meeting?’ Charlie asks, putting another slice of bread into the toaster.

‘The Greyhound. But Guy’s coming here first. I wanted to go to this other pub in Notting Hill but when I spoke to whoever it was behind the bar, to see if the downstairs loo was accessible, he had to go and measure the width of the door.’

‘Useless.’

‘I know! It was too narrow. He said he’d never had anyone in a wheelchair come into his pub before, he made us sound like reptiles or something. I wanted to say to him, “So where do you think the likes of us hang out? At home, hidden away under stones? Do we only slither out on special occasions?”’

Charlie laughs, shaking his head. ‘Do you want to come along?’ I ask him, hoping in a way he’ll say no. The truth is I prefer seeing Dom and Guy on my own. I haven’t met many of their friends either and Miranda rarely joins us. We like it being just the three of us. We call ourselves the Three Musketeers.

‘I can’t,’ Charlie replies. ‘But thanks anyway.’

‘Are you seeing Libby?’

‘She’s visiting her mum. I actually feel like a day out with my camera. Might go for a walk down the South Bank, watch the boats.’

I smile. ‘Right, well, I’ll see you later. Better get ready.’ The phone rings and it’s right in front of me so I take it.

‘Hello, Cass, it’s Mary.’

‘Hello, Mrs Bell, er … Mary. How are you?’

‘Very well, thank you. Is Charlie there?’

*

My heart lifts when I open the front door. ‘Come in, come in,’ I say. Ticket bounds up to Guy, wagging his tail. ‘I really think you should get a dog.’

‘I can’t.’

‘But you’re so good with them and …’ I shut up when I see his face warning me to stop.

‘There’s not enough space at Mum and Dad’s,’ he says more gently now. ‘But if I was going to get one, it would be just … like … you,’ he tells Ticket.

We overhear Charlie talking to his mother on the telephone about his thirtieth birthday party next month, in April, which he’s hosting at his parents’ home. The conversation appears to be heated. Guy and I exchange glances.

Charlie hangs up and joins us, looking tense. ‘Your mum giving you grief?’ Guy asks.

‘All the time.’

‘This freak,’ he gestures to himself, ‘still lives with his.’

‘She was going on and on about meeting Libby at my party and I was telling her not to make such a big deal of it. Mum will scare her away.’

‘Selective hearing is the way to go, mate.’

‘Shall we go?’ I ask Guy.

‘I’m ready.’

*

I indicate left into the car park. It’s unusually crowded because parking is free on a Sunday. A couple of cars are hovering, waiting for someone to leave. We drive towards the disabled bay, where there are three allocated parking spaces. From a distance we can see one is free. ‘Get your tits out,’ Guy commands, referring to my blue disabled discs.

‘If you’ve got ’em, flaunt ’em,’ I say back.

‘Yeah, pop ’em out. Let’s see them in their full glory on your windscreen.’

We both laugh. No one makes me laugh the way Guy does, not even Charlie.

We’re about to park in our disabled bay when a woman in a silver Mercedes, coming from the opposite direction, zips in before us.

‘Wind the window down!’ says Guy. ‘Beep the horn! Hey!’

She ignores us and before we have time to explain, she’s rushing out of the car park, towards the shops.

‘Bloody hell!’ says Guy, furious. ‘Parking is the only fucking advantage of this life-sentence!’

‘Bollocks,’ I say. ‘What shall we do?’

‘Let’s stay right here. Block her in when she gets back.’

I turn to Guy, liking this plan. ‘Ticket, settle down. It’s OK.’ He lies down again.

We turn the radio on. Guy wants a cigarette. I light it for him and he inhales deeply. ‘It’s good to see you, Cass.’

‘You too.’ His skin is clearer, accentuating the colour of his blue eyes.

He reaches for my hand. ‘You’re a great girl.’

I grin. ‘Guy? Are you feeling all right?’

‘You are, OK? I shall only say it once.’

‘Well, you’re a top man. You’re looking very handsome today too.’

‘I think you should go back to your medicine.’

‘What?’

‘I reckon you’d make a great doctor. You care about things, about people.’

‘I don’t know, Guy.’

‘I can’t go back to the City, but you could be a doctor.’ He smiles. ‘You’d look cute in your white coat and stethoscope.’ He stares out of the window, before he turns to me again with that wry smile. ‘I wish we’d met in different circumstances. I would have chatted you up, you know.’

‘What would your chat-up line have been?’

‘I don’t do chat-up lines as such. I would have just been my charming self. What’s going on with you and Charlie, by the way?’

‘Nothing’s going on.’

‘What’s with the big sigh then?’

‘If I do get together with someone, it won’t be Charlie. It’s … complicated.’

‘Why?’

‘He has a serious girlfriend for starters.’

Guy brushes that off. ‘He didn’t seem that keen.’

‘That’s just Charlie. He’s laidback and hates commitment.’

‘Don’t we all.’

I look at him. ‘How about you, Guy? Would you like to meet someone?’

‘No chance of that.’

‘Why not?’

‘I feel sad, Cass, because I’ve never had a fulfilling relationship like Dom has with Miranda. I took it for granted that I had plenty of time to marry, settle down, have kids, wash the car on a Sunday.’

‘You still could. Is it difficult meeting someone when you live with your parents?’

‘No, they’re great, God, really great. I love them. They’ve done so much for me.’ He bites his lip. ‘It’s me. I’m not a proper man any more.’

‘Don’t say that, Guy. You’re funny, good looking, clever, you make me laugh.’ I run a hand through his dark hair.

‘That’s nice,’ he murmurs. ‘Don’t stop.’ He shuts his eyes while I continue to stroke his hair. Then I touch the side of his face. ‘You know, Guy, I haven’t been with anyone either, not since the accident. It terrifies me.’ I pause. ‘Any girl would be lucky to have you. I wish you’d believe that. I wish you could see what I see.’

‘Princess, will you hold me?’

‘Guy? Are you all right?’

‘I just need a hug.’ He stubs out his cigarette before I put my arms around him. I can hear him breathing in the smell of my hair. ‘Along with Philip, you and Perky are my best mates,’ he says. ‘I love you, Cass, you know that, don’t you?’

I’m about to say I love him too when I see the woman with the Mercedes. ‘She’s back!’ She’s carrying two bulging shopping bags. ‘Excuse me,’ she says without even looking at us, ‘can you move?’ She digs into her handbag to find her car keys. She whacks her shopping bags into the boot, sits down in the front seat and turns on the engine. She waits. She winds down her window when she sees me winding down mine.

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘Did you know you’re parked in a disabled bay?’

She seems confused. ‘I was quick. Everyone does it.’

‘Why?’

She looks at both Guy and me, unsure why we’re making such a fuss, until she sees Ticket wedged between our wheelchairs on the back seat. ‘There weren’t any other spaces. I was quick,’ she repeats.

‘You shouldn’t park in a disabled space,’ I tell her, ‘not when—’

‘Fine!’ she snaps. ‘If you could move out of my way, I’ll let you in.’ She revs the engine. ‘I was only nipping to the shop, OK?’

‘She was only nipping to the shop, Cass,’ Guy repeats, leaning towards my window. ‘Well, aren’t you lucky you
can
nip. Listen, we’re not trying to preach, but come on, think about it. We don’t want to park here. We
have
to. We need the wide space for our chairs. We can’t walk. You can.’

She adjusts the front mirror. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says finally, unable to look us in the eye.

*

Dom, Guy and I sit at the corner table by the window. Guy is ordering another round of drinks. ‘Steady on,’ Dom says, ‘I haven’t finished this one yet.’

‘Drink up, Perky.’

‘So, what have you been up to, Guy?’ Dom asks. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages. You’ve been screening your calls.’

‘Well, I’ve been very busy, you know.’

Dom sings the lyrics to Vaughn Monroe’s song ‘Busy Doing Nothing’.

I laugh.

‘Fuck off,’ Guy says. ‘I’ve been busy with my history course, dictating essays and reading about the Tudor Court.’

I take up my half pint of beer. ‘Why are you looking so happy, Dom?’ I ask, as if it’s a crime.

‘Well, I’ve got some good news. Miranda’s having a baby. I’m having a baby!’

‘Oh, Dom! I’m so happy for you! A mini Perky!’

‘Congratulations, mate,’ adds Guy. ‘Not about the baby though. You’ve had sex.’

Dom rolls his eyes.

‘I’m joking! You are going to be a
great
dad. He’s one lucky kid.’

Dom smiles like a bashful schoolboy. When Guy compliments you, you do feel like the clouds have parted and the sun is shining down on you.

‘If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have got through hospital,’ Guy goes on. ‘I wouldn’t know you, Cass, and without people like you and Dommie boy here, the world would be a cheerless place.’

Dom looks surprised by such a display of affection.

‘I’d like you to be godfather,’ Dom says before explaining to me, ‘Cass, Miranda has asked her best friend from school but if we have another child, I promise we’ll ask you.’

‘Oh, Dom, you don’t have to explain.’ But I’m glad he has.

‘Just say yes, Guy,’ implores Dom. ‘It would be an honour.’

He smiles, tears in his eyes. ‘That means the world to me.’ He looks at both of us. ‘Perhaps I’m not so useless after all.’

*

‘Where shall we go?’ Guy asks after lunch. ‘Let’s go somewhere we’ve never been before.’

‘I haven’t been to a lot of places,’ I say. ‘How about Madame Tussaud’s?’

‘No,’ Guy replies. ‘Who wants to see a bunch of fake celebrities? Don’t even want to see the real ones. Let’s go somewhere special. I’ve never been to the Tower of London?’

‘Nor have I,’ Dom says. ‘Pathetic when I live in London.’

‘Me neither.’

Guy clears his throat. ‘Just think, it was the last sight that those executed saw on this earth.’

‘Talk about morbid.’

‘No it’s not, Cass,’ says Guy. ‘It’s where Anne Boleyn was imprisoned and executed, where the Crown Jewels were stolen. Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, was executed there, betrayed brutally by Charles I. It’s fascinating history. Imagine how haunted it must be, all those lost sad spirits wandering the grounds.’

‘Great,’ I say, easily convinced.

‘Access won’t be great,’ Dom warns.

Guy looks at his watch. ‘Let’s go anyway, give the staff a challenge. And remember,’ he smiles, turning to both Dom and me, ‘we are the Three Musketeers.’