By My Side (14 page)

‘All men are bastards,’ Guy declares. ‘He led you on, Cass. Stuff him. Mind you, I was no better than Charlie when I was, you know, not in this.’ Guy taps his wheelchair. ‘I didn’t treat women well, went from one to another as if they were tasters.’

‘He hasn’t exactly treated me badly, Guy. Maybe I misread the signs.’

‘No. You just forget about him, and move on.’ With his good arm, he lifts my face towards his, so we are eye-to-eye. ‘It might be a lot less complicated too, you know, staying friends. Listen, you’re about to start a new job, who knows where that might lead and who you’ll meet. And if all else fails, you can marry Ticket.’

‘Oh, Guy, I love you.’

‘Marry me, then, and Ticket can be our best man.’

We laugh, imagining two wheelchairs down the aisle and Ticket in a morning coat bearing the rings. ‘You should get a career as an agony uncle,’ I suggest.

‘Oh fuck no, that’s Dom’s job.’ Guy and I decide the world needs many more Doms. There are so many people who complain about nothing, their glass is always half empty. ‘He saved my sorry arse,’ Guy says. ‘Both of you did.’

*

It’s one o’clock in the morning when I return to Charlie’s. The house is quiet. I let Ticket out into the garden before heading into my bedroom, wondering if Libby is still here. Sleeping in Charlie’s bed. I try to put the thought out of my mind.

As I undress, I think about Guy instead. Despite the jokes, he looked tired tonight. After we’d discussed Charlie and relationships, Guy mentioned he’d been rushed into hospital again. One of the biggest fears for people with high-level injuries is autonomic dysreflexia. If the bladder is full it normally spontaneously empties itself, but it can remain firmly shut, which causes a rise in blood pressure and severe pain in the head. It is life-threatening and needs medical attention immediately. I’d learnt about it at King’s.

‘Oh, Guy, why didn’t you say something before?’

He shook his head. ‘Because I hate it,’ he’d replied. ‘I’m bored of it, and I’m bored of myself.’

‘But, Guy, you could have died. Please promise me next time you’ll call? I can come round, be with you.’

He’d raised a hand to his forehead. ‘Scout’s honour.’

As I’m getting into bed I notice I’ve had a couple of missed calls on my mobile and a new voicemail message. I was so determined to leave quickly after supper that I’d left it behind on my bedside table.

‘Hi Cass, it’s Edward. Edward Granger, returning your call. Thanks for your message. It was good to hear from you.’ He sounds nervous. ‘Anyway, Tinkerbell and I would love to see you and Ticket. Give me a call and let’s make a plan. Great. Er … All the best.’

*

The following morning I wake up feeling excited about my new job, but that excitement is soon clouded over when I hear voices in the hallway. ‘See you tonight, honey?’

‘Sure. I’ll book a table,’ Charlie says.

I hear them kissing.

Thank God I didn’t tell him how I feel. What a fool I am! I would have made it so awkward between us. I could have ruined everything. Clearly he only sees me as a friend. Minutes later, I hear him taking a shower. I make a promise to myself to forget about Charlie in that way. As Guy said, keep him as a flatmate. Focus on the new job. I glance at my mobile, remembering Edward had left a message last night.

It’s time to move on.

It’s Friday morning. I’m coming to the end of my first week at Back Up, and I’m about to head to Stoke Mandeville Hospital with Simon, one of my colleagues who works in the Outreach and Support team. I’m here to shadow him and take notes, so that I can explain to anyone with spinal cord injury exactly what is involved in these sessions. Simon has been in a wheelchair for fifteen years, injured in a rugby game. He’s now in his late thirties, loves basketball and getting around on his hand bike, and teaches wheelchair skills to patients across the country. Dom and I took part in one of his courses while we were both in the rehab ward.

As we drive out of London, I’m relieved week one is almost behind me. Monday was especially nerve racking. I felt like it was my first day at school. I didn’t want to say or do anything wrong. Charlotte, the Course Manager and woman who had interviewed me, showed me round the office, pointing out the accessible kitchen and bathroom and the tables and stools where everyone ate their lunch. When I was introduced to the team I was so preoccupied to give them a firm handshake and not fidget with my hair that I immediately forgot their names. There are twenty-five staff in total, not including the volunteers. Six staff are wheelchair users, including a partially sighted employee who has a massive screen on her desk. I was shown the computer system and the basics of logging in and out and answering the telephone, along with the long list of extension numbers.

The afternoon was a series of meetings. Jane, Head of Fundraising, gave me an introduction into Back Up fundraising events and how the charity raises its income. Nathan, the PR and Communications Manager, explained to me his role and how I fit into the five-year plan for Back Up. I was given the staff handbook and told I needed to absorb it quickly to understand the ethos of the charity. Louise, from the Outreach and Support team, talked me through the process of calling newly injured people, to try and encourage them to sign up for Back Up courses. By the end of the evening I was so overwhelmed with information that I thought my head might explode. I was also dehydrated from not drinking enough water, as I’d been nervous about going to the bathroom all the time. Ticket and I headed back to the flat and, too exhausted to cook, I ordered takeaway before going straight to bed.

The rest of the week was more meetings and familiarising myself with all the courses Back Up run throughout the year. There are multi-activity courses in Exmoor and the Lake District, and City Challenge Courses in Edinburgh and Belfast, where participants learn wheelchair skills, are given confidence getting around on public transport and overcoming the fear of socialising. There’s the skiing in Winter Park, Colorado and Ski Karting in Sweden. Yesterday morning, I spoke to a single woman in her forties, called Samantha, who hadn’t been abroad since her injury five years ago. I was trying to reassure her about the travelling and how to manage the cold, explaining that when I went to Colorado, Back Up had brought plenty of snow boots and extra jackets, hand warmers and hot water bottles. ‘Though the skiing is so much fun and energetic, you often feel too hot!’ I thought of Charlie. ‘Also, you meet the best people.’ She told me she’d think about it, promising to get back to me at the end of the week. I could sense her reservation, her fear of the unknown. I also sensed she felt isolated and vulnerable. ‘I know it’s scary, but you have nothing to lose,’ I’d said gently. ‘Being up in the mountains, it’s a different world.’

*

When Simon and I enter the hospital it brings back memories. I take in a deep breath, praying not to bump into any of the doctors or Georgina. The only person I miss and would like to see again is Paul.

As we wheel ourselves into the sports hall a couple of the patients are playing basketball in their chairs, one aiming and shooting a ball through the net. His arms are covered in tattoos and he’s wearing a solid gold chain and tweed cap. Simon tells me his name is Mike and that he was shot by mistake by his best friend. Weirdly it doesn’t shock me. It’s not easy to shock me these days. A young girl in school uniform wheels herself over to me, saying she was born with spina bifida and that her mum is ordering pizza tonight, because she’s allowed takeaway every Friday. It’s a treat night. Simon calls her over to join the group.

‘You need wheelchair skills,’ he says, placing a bottle of water on one side of his chair, wedging it between the spokes. ‘It’s a big wide world out there and after you’ve been discharged we don’t want any of you lot staying at home with no confidence to be out on the streets. Mounting kerbs, going down steps, it takes practice. No two kerbs are the same. I’m only good now because I’ve made loads of mistakes and fallen over a zillion times. But once you’ve mastered the skills it can be fun. You can whip round supermarkets, go up and down escalators, but that takes a lot of practice, so don’t do that just yet,’ he warns everyone.

As I watch them, it reminds me of my session with Dom. One of the main things we had to learn was back-wheel balancing in preparation for mounting kerbs. Simon had placed a wooden board in the middle of the room to act as one. ‘You need to measure the height mentally. Don’t use more energy than you have to,’ he’d said. ‘Timing and technique are more important than strength.’

I can remember the oldest man in our group, Morris, volunteering to go first. Face clenched with determination, he wheeled himself towards the kerb but his back wheels jammed against it with a thud. ‘Way too early,’ Simon had said. Deflated, Morris joined the back of the queue. Dom and I didn’t have much more luck than Morris either, first time round.

‘Hello?’ I hear someone saying quietly. ‘Whingeing Pom?’

I turn. ‘Paul! I was thinking about you.’

‘Cass! How are you?’ He glances at Ticket.

We move out of the hall so we can talk in private and not distract the class.

‘Who’s this handsome fellow?’ he asks, stroking Ticket. I tell him all about Canine Partners. ‘And you went skiing,’ he says. ‘Thanks for the postcard. So, what are you doing here?’

‘I work for Back Up.’

‘Ah, mate, seriously?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s terrific. They’re a great team.’

‘And how are you? How’s work?’

‘Ah, look, I shouldn’t say this, but I will,’ he says, his guard finally slipping. ‘There are some patients we care about more than others; that’s just the way it is. I miss my whingeing Pom.’

‘I miss my sergeant major too.’

‘Good, glad we got that sorted. Can’t be professional all the time, can we?’ he says, stroking Ticket again.

I tell him that I keep in touch with Perky and Guy and that I’m living in a ground-floor flat with Charlie. ‘It’s funny being back here,’ I tell him. ‘My time here seems like a dream, and then it only feels like yesterday too.’

‘I can imagine. But look at you, you’re doing great.’

‘You did so much for me, Paul. Thank you.’

‘I’m glad I helped,’ he says with emotion he didn’t show at hospital. ‘Well, I’d better go. Got a new patient to get up and running, you know what it’s like.’

When I return to the sports hall I picture him going to the rehab ward and standing by the bed of the next patient. They won’t realise yet how lucky they are to have him on their side.

*

When Simon and I return to the office late Friday afternoon, I gather my files from my desk, thinking about the night ahead and what I’m going to wear on my first date with Edward. I’m beginning to feel both excited and anxious. We’re meeting in a restaurant along Kensington High Street.

As I’m about to leave, my telephone rings. Reluctantly I pick up, praying it’s not going to be a long conversation. I want to go home, run a bath and have a glass of wine. ‘Hi, Cass. It’s Samantha. We spoke earlier this week, about the skiing course in Colorado?’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Good. I thought about everything you said, and I want to go on this course.’

‘That’s fantastic!’ I’m nodding vigorously at Charlotte, who is approaching my desk.

‘You made me realise it’s time to live a little,’ she says. ‘I can’t sit cooped up at home forever wishing this had never happened.’

‘Well done,’ Charlotte says when I hang up. ‘It can be hard persuading people. They’re often scared.’ She touches my shoulder. ‘Cass, you have a gift. We saw that in the interview. Keep it up.’

*

When I return to Charlie’s flat, I head straight into the kitchen to feed Ticket, replaying with pride what Charlotte had said to me.

The flat is quiet. I’m relieved Charlie isn’t home yet. Normally he works late on a Friday or if Rich is around, they meet for a drink. Maybe he’s staying over with Libby tonight. He had asked me a couple of days ago if I’d mind him sleeping over the odd night at her flat in Battersea. ‘But if it worries you being in the flat on your own,’ he’d said, ‘Libby can easily come here.’ What could I say? Of course I pretended that I didn’t mind being on my own.

Don’t think about Charlie, I tell myself, heading into the bathroom to run a bath, before consulting my wardrobe to decide what to wear tonight. Will Edward be smart? Why doesn’t Charlie get it? Oh it’s so annoying. I pick out my scarlet top. Stop thinking about him! Celebrate the end of your first week and Samantha agreeing to go on a skiing course. Get excited about Edward. Oh why did Libby have to turn up and put a spanner in the works? Is he
really
falling for her?

*

As I have a bath, I think about Edward and our date and seeing Paul again today. I remember one evening in hospital, after a gruelling session in the gym, when I’d talked to him about Sean. ‘This has got to be a turn-off for guys, Paul, and don’t patronise me by saying they’ll fall in love with me and not the wheelchair. How am I ever going to meet someone? Go on dates? I mean, look at me.’

‘I am. I’m looking at a beautiful girl,’ he said.

I sighed, half touched and half dissatisfied. ‘I wish I could feel something, you know. It’s this numbness.’ I hit my legs. I felt nothing.

Paul placed one hand behind my neck and his fingers brushed against my skin. ‘Can you feel that?’

I nodded, heat rushing to my cheeks.

His fingers pressed against my hair. He was the only person who had dared to touch me since the accident. Jamie, who normally thumped my arm to say hello, would sit as far away from the bed as possible, as if I were a china doll. ‘I can feel that,’ I said, wanting him to carry on.

He lifted my face to his. ‘People come and go in here. Some make it, some don’t. I believe you’ll have a good life. I know it’s different to the one you’d imagined, but there’s no reason why you can’t fall in love, marry, have kids’—

‘Hello?’ I hear Charlie calling, jolting me back to the present. ‘Cass?’

‘I’m in the bath!’

I hear Libby saying hello to Ticket. ‘How was your day, you handsome young man?’

I close my eyes and sink deeper into the water.

*

When I’m dressed and about to leave, I make my way into the kitchen to say goodbye to Libby and Charlie, and to ask them if they can let Ticket out into the garden later. Edward had mentioned on the telephone that he wasn’t bringing Tinkerbell. She doesn’t relax in cafés or restaurants.

Charlie’s standing in front of the stove, frying something. The room smells of mince. Libby is drinking a glass of white wine and flicking through the television guide. ‘We felt like a quiet night in, didn’t we, sweetheart. Work’s been manic today,’ she says, before admiring my top. ‘Red really suits you, with your blonde hair. You look amazing, doesn’t she, Charlie?’

He turns. ‘You look good. I like your hair down,’ he says before carrying on cooking.

‘Where are you off to?’ Libby asks. ‘Hope you’ve got a hot date?’

‘It’s not really a date, it’s just supper.’

‘Cass, honey, it’s a date,’ says Libby. ‘Men don’t ask you out on a Friday night if they’re not interested, do they, Charlie?’

He doesn’t turn this time.

‘We’ll see,’ I say. ‘Can you look after Ticket for me? Let him out later?’

‘You’re not taking him?’

‘I think he’d be really bored in the restaurant.’

‘You don’t want to be a gooseberry, do you,’ Libby says to Ticket, tickling him under the chin. ‘So come on, who’s the lucky man?’

‘Libby!’ Charlie frowns. ‘Stop—’

‘I don’t mind,’ I interrupt him. ‘Edward.’

‘Where’s he taking you?’ she asks.

‘The Terrace.’

‘Blimey, I love that place!’ She reaches over to Charlie to stroke his arm. ‘Hint hint.’ He doesn’t react. ‘Pricey though.’ She rubs her thumb against her index finger. ‘I have a good feeling about this. I bet you he’ll be asking you home for a
coffee
.’

‘Anyway, I’d better go,’ I say, beginning to feel uncomfortable. ‘See you later.’

Libby smiles. ‘I doubt it.’