Page 110 of Playing By Ear

“I cannae think about that now.” Martin pointed his bottle at the trail. “Back to the car.” He started stuffing the empty crisps packets into the carrier bag.

“We don’t have to leave.” Jamie pulled out his secure phone. “Is there someone you could call and⁠—”

“No. I need a long think before I talk to anyone else.”

One of the packets came loose with the wind. It landed on a small evergreen ten feet away. Jamie went to fetch it and saw an empty condom wrapper tucked into the branches like the world’s tackiest Christmas bauble.

He snatched the crisps bag before it could blow away, then turned back to Martin. “Cannae believe the rubbish people will⁠—”

Jamie froze. His father lay on the ground.

“Dad!” He dropped to his knees, every scrap of first-aid knowledge fleeing his mind. “What happened? Are you okay?”

No words. No signs. Just a steel-blue gaze fixed upon the brooding sky.

Jamie let out a whimper. His dad couldn’t drop dead. There was still so much more to⁠—

Martin held up his right hand. “I’m fine. Tried to get up on the wrong side.”

Relief surged through Jamie’s body. “Let’s get you sat up.” Even that was a battle, but they managed.

Martin scowled at his left arm, which hung twitching at his side, the fingers folding and unfolding as if to prove they could still do something. He brushed off the dead leaves. “Walking stick.”

Jamie pulled it from the shallow water where it had fallen, then rubbed it dry on his pullover. Once Martin had it gripped firmly in his right hand, Jamie looped an arm under his left shoulder and moved in close to support him.

They rose maybe six inches off the ground before crashing down again. His father was simply too big.

“We got this,” Jamie said to cover his despair while his mind concocted a plan. “Let’s try it in stages. First, get up on one knee. Lean on me while you pull your right foot forwards to get it under you. There you go. Ya dancer! Now plant that walking stick and use your good leg to help me help you stand. On three. One⁠—”

“Fucking three already!”

With a great heave, they strained together like a pair of well-matched sled dogs. Halfway up, they teetered, surely about to fall again. Then gravity relented, as if it had already made its point.

“Look at us,” Jamie said as their legs went fully straight, “standing like a couple of world-class…standers.” It was too close to stauners not to make him laugh.

“Numpty,” his dad muttered. “Standing’s one thing, but the car’s a mile away.”

“We’ll pretend we’re in a three-legged race. We step with our outside legs at the same time, then my inside leg. Ready?”

The way back was slow and awkward, and they had to stop four times to rest. No one else happened by, so Martin was at least spared the humiliation of being helped by a stranger.

When they reached the car, Martin sagged against the driver side door and pulled out his key fob.

Jamie held out his hand. “I’ll get us home.”

“Nah, Rosie’ll skelp me as it is for stealing her motor.”

“She’ll skelp me even harder for letting you drive with shoogly neurons.”

“It’s an automatic. I can use my good hand and foot.” Martin opened the door.

Jamie shoved it shut. “Gonnae listen to me! When we got here, you could walk by yourself. Now you cannae. You could take a nosedive on the motorway and kill us both, plus someone else. So nae more arguments.” He knew insisting was the worst way to handle his dad, but right now he lacked the patience for subtlety.

Martin glared down at him, then smacked the key fob into Jamie’s outstretched palm. “That’s me never driving again.”

They played the same radio station on the way home, but this time, they didn’t sing along.

Chapter 21