By My Side

by Alice Peterson

  ‘Yes,’ I reply, just to see his face.

  As Ticket and I leave Sainsbury’s we notice the Big Issue man back in his post, standing close to the entrance and flower stall, wearing faded jeans and a Che Guevara T-shirt. I hand him some of my spare change, but tell him I don’t need a Big Issue today.

  ‘God bless you and Ticket,’ he says, tickling Ticket under his chin. Big Issue man is the only man who doesn’t pay any attention to the ‘Don’t distract me, I’m working’ message on Ticket’s coat. In such a good mood, I decide to tell him about my job.

  ‘That’s grand! I hope you’re painting the town red tonight?’

  I find myself telling him about Charlie and that I’m cooking him a special meal to thank him for his support. Immediately I feel guilty, wondering what Big Issue man will feed his kids tonight, so am relieved when he smiles and says, ‘Food is the way to a man’s heart.’

  ‘Oh no, he’s just a friend.’

  Big Issue man examines me, stroking his chin. ‘Let me ask you one question, right. Was he the first person you wanted to tell about the job?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘You’re in love, girl. Oh, I remember that feeling,’ he sighs, before singing Louis Armstrong’s ‘What A Wonderful World’.

  27

  ‘Charlie, there’s something I need to tell you,’ I say.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘You go first,’ we both say at the same time, before laughing.

  We gaze at one another from across the kitchen table, our plates of food barely touched. Charlie encourages me to start.

  ‘You see, the thing is,’ I begin.

  ‘I think I know what you’re about to say.’

  ‘I’ve been having these feelings—’

  ‘Cass, stop.’ He takes my hand. ‘I feel the same.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I do.’ He’s now sitting by my side as he takes a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. ‘I’ve loved you since the moment we first met.’

  I lean towards him; press a finger over his lips.

  We kiss. It’s a soft kiss at first, but soon it becomes more intense and then …

  I feel a nudge against my knee and the vague sound of ringing. I open my eyes, only to see Ticket in front of me, with the mobile in his mouth. It’s Charlie. ‘I’m on my way home,’ he says, ‘be with you soon.’

  *

  It’s eight o’clock. I glance at the kitchen table again. Napkins, steak knives. I’ve used the best wine glasses. He’s bound to be here any minute. Candles? I chew my lip. Is it too obvious? Oh, why not. The wine is chilling and I decide to have a glass while I wait.

  I turn on some music. All I need to do when he arrives is cook the steaks. Charlie loves his steak rare. Just as I look at my watch I hear a click in the lock and the familiar sound of his voice.

  *

  ‘To Cass,’ Charlie says, raising his glass of champagne towards mine. ‘Congratulations.’

  Over supper we talk about our day. I tell him half of mine was taken up on the telephone calling friends and Charlotte to accept the job offer. Charlie says he can’t compete with my exciting news. ‘But I’m always relieved when Monday is over.’

  After supper Charlie and I collapse on to the sofa. He smiles when he sees his copy of the Big Issue on the coffee table. ‘Cass, you’re such a softie,’ he says.

  ‘I know, I can’t help it.’ I think of what Big Issue man said again. You’re in love, girl. How do I tell him?

  ‘Can I see the letter? From Back Up?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Really?’

  He nods. ‘You need to frame it. We should stick it in the bathroom.’

  I laugh. ‘It’s in my bedroom. Hang on.’

  ‘I’m hanging.’

  As I wheel myself out of the room, I decide that I’m going to tell him tonight that I love him. I feel so happy. I have a job and the most supportive and wonderful Charlie. I grab the letter off my bedside table. When I return, I hand it to him, watching his every expression as he reads it slowly. ‘Oh wow, Cass, that’s incredible … and very true.’ He looks at me. ‘You are brave. You haven’t hung around feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got on with it.’

  ‘I don’t have much choice,’ I say quietly.

  ‘Yes you do. We make choices all the time. “Despite your nerves,”’ Charlie reads out, ‘“your empathy and strength of character shone through”.’ He puts the letter down. ‘Cass, I’m really proud of you. You did it.’

  Glowing inside, I say, ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  ‘Yes you could.’ He takes my hand. ‘You can do anything.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Tell him, Cass. Be brave. ‘Charlie,’ I repeat. The buzzer rings.

  ‘Shit,’ he says, jumping up and rushing out of the room. ‘That’ll be Libby.’

  Libby? Who’s Libby?

  *

  Libby looks to be in her late twenties, wearing a pale grey mini skirt and a cream close-fitting jumper that shows off her slender frame. Her long brown hair is sleek; she has a perfect middle parting.

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ she says, shaking my hand in the kitchen. She glances at the empty bottle of champagne on the table. ‘I gather you had good news today. Congratulations!’

  I want to say, ‘Yes, but who the hell are you?’ Instead I say, ‘Thanks.’

  Ticket jumps up to say hello to her.

  ‘Ah, so cute! Aren’t you a handsome—’ she bends down to take a look at his undercarriage ‘—boy!’

  Charlie opens the fridge and asks if she’d like a drink. ‘White wine would be great, honey. So …’ She turns to me and looks down. ‘You’re the famous flatmate that Charlie stood me up for tonight! Only joking!’ she adds when she sees my face. ‘Didn’t he tell you? I called to see what he was up to tonight and he told me all about you. It’s so sweet you wanted to cook him a special meal.’

  ‘Here you go,’ Charlie says, handing her a glass of wine.

  ‘Thanks, honey. Can I quickly use your bathroom?’

  ‘Sure. Down the hallway, on the right.’

  When she’s out of the room Charlie says, ‘Sorry, Cass, I meant to tell you she was coming over later,’ he whispers, ‘but I was so caught up with you and the good news. Fancy another drink?’

  ‘I didn’t know … didn’t know you were seeing someone,’ I say, trying to disguise my disappointment.

  ‘It’s early days.’

  The buzzer rings again. Charlie tells me that will be Rich, who had also called earlier to see if he could come round. Rich is Charlie’s best friend from home. He works in film and advertising, and is often abroad, which is why I haven’t met him yet. ‘He’s just got back from the States,’ says Charlie, letting him in.

  Sitting round the kitchen table, Rich tucks into the leftovers of supper. Charlie, Libby, Rich and I talk briefly about my job that starts in ten days. Rich goes on to describe his trip to Washington and Vancouver. He has returned from filming a documentary about the Second World War, where he was lucky enough to visit some incredible war veterans, men well into their nineties who all had stories to tell. ‘What they did … well, it makes our lives seem pretty mundane,’ he says.

  Libby works in Leicester Square for a recruitment company that specialises in media. ‘We recruit for the BBC, trade shows, exhibitions, things like that.’ I discover Charlie met her a couple of weeks ago; he’s designing a new website for their company. Libby explains that her job is all about getting ‘hits’, in other words, placing people. ‘The more people I can find work for—’

  ‘The more commission,’ Rich finishes, a note of cynicism in his voice.

  ‘Exactly. Have to earn the pennies. I visit loads of companies to meet the staff, see if I have anyone on my books who would fit in. It’s dead in August, though. Roll on September.’

  ‘Tell them what happens when you get a hit,’ Charlie says.

  Libby laughs. ‘Charlie thinks t
his is so weird! Friday afternoons we have our weekly meeting, OK. If I’ve placed someone our team manager rings this bell and everyone in the boardroom sings round the table, “Hey, Libby, you’re so fine, you’re so fine”’ – Libby does this little dance, jigging her arms in a circle, and somehow she makes even that look sexy – ‘“You blow my mind, hey, Libby!”’

  Why hasn’t Charlie mentioned her before? Rich catches me noticing the way his hand brushes across hers.

  *

  Charlie and Libby head outside into the garden for a cigarette, leaving Rich and me alone in the kitchen. Rich brings his dirty plate to the sink, thanking me for supper.

  They stand close as Charlie lights her cigarette. Libby is clearly into Charlie just as much as he’s into her.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Rich says.

  ‘Sorry?’ I edge myself away from the French door.

  ‘I’ve seen that look before.’

  ‘What look? Sorry, Rich. I was admiring … um … Libby’s top.’

  ‘Right. And I was looking at that flying pig.’

  ‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ I ask, desperate for him to change the subject.

  ‘Listen, Cass, I love Charlie. I’ve known him all my life, since I was this high.’ He places his hand a couple of feet from the floor. ‘His family are like my family.’ He pauses. ‘But he’s complicated.’

  ‘Complicated?’

  ‘He gets close to women and then bottles out. Who knows how long this one will last.’

  Maybe he hasn’t met the right one, I want to say.

  ‘Jo was lovely. It ended badly, the moment she wanted more. He has a commitment problem. His whole family do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you met his sister, Anna?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Long story.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I can’t.’ He glances at Charlie through the window. ‘Not now, but one day,’ he promises. ‘Cass, all I’m saying is don’t place your bets on him. I know he thinks the world of you but …’

  ‘Listen, Rich, I like him,’ I say, partly touched by his concern, but also annoyed with myself that I can’t hide my feelings. I stop when I see Charlie kissing her. She has one hand resting against his back jean pocket.

  ‘I didn’t even know he’d met someone,’ I murmur.

  ‘He can be pretty private. I didn’t meet Jo for months.’

  ‘Please don’t tell Charlie,’ I whisper.

  He touches my shoulder in understanding, before walking over to Ticket. Ticket rolls over, allowing Rich to tickle him. I watch them playing; half Rich’s white shirt hangs out of his trousers and he has ink on his freckled cheek.

  ‘I don’t understand your dog, Cass,’ Charlie says, when he enters the kitchen. ‘He doesn’t let me near him.’

  Rich ruffles Ticket’s ears. ‘Have you been giving my friend a hard time? Well, very wise to be wary of Charlie. I was when I first met him.’

  Ticket wags his tail even more, in on the conspiracy.

  ‘Should I be wary?’ Libby says, nudging Charlie’s arm.

  The telephone rings. Libby is in awe when Ticket brings it to me. It’s Guy. Never before have I been so relieved to leave the room; Ticket follows me and I shut my bedroom door firmly behind us. ‘Sorry I missed your call earlier,’ he says. ‘That’s great about the job! Cass?’

  I hear music playing, voices in the kitchen and Libby laughing again.

  ‘Cass? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Can I drive over?’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘No. Right now?’

  28

  ‘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.

  29

  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.’