Read Online By My Side by Alice Peterson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alice Peterson
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all I know is it’s to do with me nerves.’
Tom started to say something. ‘We … can … put … you in …’ We all listened patiently, hoping that it was going to be worth the wait. ‘ … the miscellaneous file,’ he finished and laughed so much that his shoulders heaved up and down and he dropped his ham sandwich on to his boot.
Then there’s Trevor. He has had severe osteoarthritis for twenty years and is desperately overweight, largely because severe pain has stopped him from taking even moderate exercise. Today he’s wearing a badge on his jacket that reads, ‘Proud to be DISABLED!’ Trevor loves to talk gadgets. Last night he was telling us about a chopping board that has spikes on its base and an indent to put your cucumber or whatever into, without it rolling across the board and falling on to the floor. ‘But it cost me seventy quid!’ he exclaimed, before saying sadly, ‘I’m afraid we’re a captive audience.’
Finally there’s Edward. He’s in his late twenties and I discovered he was a lance corporal in the Royal Marines. He told me he’d been out to Afghanistan in 2007, but was flown home injured in a mine strike. He lost his left leg above the knee and now has a prosthetic limb. He can walk, ‘Very badly,’ he’d added, but when he’s in pain or has to walk any distance, he slots his crutches on to the back of his wheelchair. That’s about as much as I know. He was quiet over supper last night, answering questions as quickly as he could, and he hardly said a word when we all went on our first outing yesterday afternoon. However much Lindsey reinforces that our dogs want companionship, that it’s good to laugh and talk to them, he remains reserved, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.
After breakfast we meet in one of the training rooms. The moment has come. I know I will get Ticket, yet I still feel as anxious as an actress waiting to find out if I’ve won the Oscar.
We are deathly quiet when Lindsey walks into the room with her clipboard and stands in the middle of our circle. She’s sporty and glamorous even in her purple T-shirt and jeans. ‘You’re as quiet as mice,’ she says, flicking a hand through her hair, knowing full well why we aren’t talkative.
‘It’s called panicking,’ Trevor mutters. ‘I hope you’re not going to give my dog to anyone else. I like Pandora.’ He nods at all of us in turn, in case we’re in any way confused.
‘You mustn’t get too disappointed,’ Lindsey reminds us. ‘You might think that one dog is perfect but they might not be perfect for
you
.’
‘Yes, yes, you’ve told us that,’ Trevor grumbles.
Lindsey goes on to prolong the agony by warning us that our dogs might find it difficult to begin with being parted from her and their routine at Canine Partners. ‘Dogs love stability and they form strong attachments so these two weeks are all about you showing them that you are now their master. OK, we’re going to bring the dogs into the room, one by one.’ She goes out and returns with Pandora on the lead, groomed and wearing her purple coat. I think Lindsey is enjoying this. She’s acting like a judge on
X-Factor
, prolonging the decision of who goes through to the next round. Trevor is breathing heavily as he watches Pandora trotting by Lindsey’s side. I am sure he’s going to have to undo the top button of his trousers. Pandora sniffs and wags her tail when she’s near him. ‘That’s my girl,’ he says, sure she’s going to stop and sit by his sandalled feet, but she moves on and is brought tantalisingly close to me. Pandora circles my chair. ‘And the person who will have Pandora is …’ There’s a dramatic pause, all we need is a drum roll. ‘Trevor,’ she says at last.
When Tom is given Leo he gasps with relief as if he’s been holding his breath the entire time.
Edward gets Tinkerbell, the pretty chocolate Labrador. When he smiles I am drawn to the warmth in his green eyes.
So
Tom started to say something. ‘We … can … put … you in …’ We all listened patiently, hoping that it was going to be worth the wait. ‘ … the miscellaneous file,’ he finished and laughed so much that his shoulders heaved up and down and he dropped his ham sandwich on to his boot.
Then there’s Trevor. He has had severe osteoarthritis for twenty years and is desperately overweight, largely because severe pain has stopped him from taking even moderate exercise. Today he’s wearing a badge on his jacket that reads, ‘Proud to be DISABLED!’ Trevor loves to talk gadgets. Last night he was telling us about a chopping board that has spikes on its base and an indent to put your cucumber or whatever into, without it rolling across the board and falling on to the floor. ‘But it cost me seventy quid!’ he exclaimed, before saying sadly, ‘I’m afraid we’re a captive audience.’
Finally there’s Edward. He’s in his late twenties and I discovered he was a lance corporal in the Royal Marines. He told me he’d been out to Afghanistan in 2007, but was flown home injured in a mine strike. He lost his left leg above the knee and now has a prosthetic limb. He can walk, ‘Very badly,’ he’d added, but when he’s in pain or has to walk any distance, he slots his crutches on to the back of his wheelchair. That’s about as much as I know. He was quiet over supper last night, answering questions as quickly as he could, and he hardly said a word when we all went on our first outing yesterday afternoon. However much Lindsey reinforces that our dogs want companionship, that it’s good to laugh and talk to them, he remains reserved, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.
After breakfast we meet in one of the training rooms. The moment has come. I know I will get Ticket, yet I still feel as anxious as an actress waiting to find out if I’ve won the Oscar.
We are deathly quiet when Lindsey walks into the room with her clipboard and stands in the middle of our circle. She’s sporty and glamorous even in her purple T-shirt and jeans. ‘You’re as quiet as mice,’ she says, flicking a hand through her hair, knowing full well why we aren’t talkative.
‘It’s called panicking,’ Trevor mutters. ‘I hope you’re not going to give my dog to anyone else. I like Pandora.’ He nods at all of us in turn, in case we’re in any way confused.
‘You mustn’t get too disappointed,’ Lindsey reminds us. ‘You might think that one dog is perfect but they might not be perfect for
you
.’
‘Yes, yes, you’ve told us that,’ Trevor grumbles.
Lindsey goes on to prolong the agony by warning us that our dogs might find it difficult to begin with being parted from her and their routine at Canine Partners. ‘Dogs love stability and they form strong attachments so these two weeks are all about you showing them that you are now their master. OK, we’re going to bring the dogs into the room, one by one.’ She goes out and returns with Pandora on the lead, groomed and wearing her purple coat. I think Lindsey is enjoying this. She’s acting like a judge on
X-Factor
, prolonging the decision of who goes through to the next round. Trevor is breathing heavily as he watches Pandora trotting by Lindsey’s side. I am sure he’s going to have to undo the top button of his trousers. Pandora sniffs and wags her tail when she’s near him. ‘That’s my girl,’ he says, sure she’s going to stop and sit by his sandalled feet, but she moves on and is brought tantalisingly close to me. Pandora circles my chair. ‘And the person who will have Pandora is …’ There’s a dramatic pause, all we need is a drum roll. ‘Trevor,’ she says at last.
When Tom is given Leo he gasps with relief as if he’s been holding his breath the entire time.
Edward gets Tinkerbell, the pretty chocolate Labrador. When he smiles I am drawn to the warmth in his green eyes.
So
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