Her heart giving a bounce of joy, she wheeled him over to the long bookshelf, where there was a variety of firm surfaces to hold on to at the right height. Placing his feet on the floor and handing him Christy’s stick, she gently put her arms around his waist, as she did when she was helping him into bed at night.
‘Now then, I’ve got you, Philip,’ she said. ‘We’ll get you upright, and for now, balance your weight on your good leg. Once you feel comfortable, we’ll try putting weight on the bad one.’
As she helped him to standing, she could feel him shaking with exertion and nerves, and saw his knuckles were white on the hand that clutched Christy’s stick.
‘Breathe, Philip, just in and out, so.’
With a gasp, he let out a breath and drew one in so quickly, she feared he would hyperventilate.
‘Right. Hold on to the shelf there with your other hand...’ Nuala indicated the right height. ‘Now, ’tis time for you to try some weight on the leg. I promise it won’t hurt as much as before,’ she encouraged him.
She felt his body shift as he tentatively placed some weight on the wooden leg, and then heard another sharp intake of breath.
‘How is it? Do you want to sit back down?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he panted, beads of sweat on his forehead. ‘No, no, I’m not giving up now I’ve come this far. It isn’t as bad as it was. Let me get my balance and then I’ll try standing alone.’
‘Grand,’ she said. ‘You’re being so brave. Now, when you’re ready...’
Philip shifted about until he was comfortable. ‘Ready,’ he muttered.
‘Balance on the stick and let go of the shelf... I’m here to catch you if you fall.’
He released his grip slowly, as she stood in front of him, arms stretched towards him.
‘Look at you, Philip!’ she said, feeling so proud of him she was fit to burst. ‘You’re standing by yourself! ’Tis a breeze, isn’t it?’
There was a sudden knock on the door, and it opened before Nuala could shout for them to wait.
‘Philip?’ Lady Fitzgerald entered the room. ‘Oh – oh my...’
Philip had frozen at his mother’s arrival, and Nuala reached out to support him, so he wouldn’t lose his balance.
‘It’s just an experiment, Mother, to see if the leg still fits,’ he said, trying to sound nonchalant as Nuala helped him sit back down in his wheelchair.
Lady Fitzgerald looked at Nuala, who gave her a meaningful glance.
‘Of course,’ said Lady Fitzgerald, taking the hint. ‘I’ve just come to ask if you’d like me to join you for supper up here tonight, as our guests have cancelled.’
‘That would be lovely, Mother.’
‘Good. I’ll come up at seven,’ said Lady Fitzgerald. ‘Nuala,’ she nodded, and gave her a look of such joy and gratitude, it brought tears to her eyes.
Once the door had closed behind Lady Fitzgerald, Philip looked up at Nuala and gave a chuckle.
‘Did you see Mother’s face when she came in?! Oh, the discomfort was worth it for that alone. Thank you, Nuala. I should have tried it long ago, but I... I was afraid.’
‘’Tis understandable,’ she said as she wheeled him back to the window where the sun was now setting, casting a golden glow into the room. ‘I won’t lie to you, there’s more work to do before you can walk on your own,’ she said as she knelt to unstrap the leg.
‘But you’ll help me, won’t you, Nuala?’
‘O’course I will, Philip.’
Just before seven, Nuala was just about to leave for home, when Lady Fitzgerald stopped her at the bottom of the staircase.
‘Nuala, a moment, please,’ she said.
‘Of course, your ladyship.’ Nuala noticed that Lady Fitzgerald’s eyes looked red, as though she’d been crying.
