Sure, if they could turn the clock back to New Years Eve five years ago, that would be a great help.
And always the unsolicited advice.Don’t spend time alone. Keep busy. Work longer hours. Why not go to the next conference?
Which proved how little they knew him. Because he’d spent every waking hour of the last few years doing exactly that, keeping busy and attending every conference he could squeeze between his two jobs.
But they still asked, wanted him to know they cared. Wanted to know where he was, wanted to see him, wanted, wanted, wanted. He was the most wanted man in Britain.
In the end, he had dropped his phone into the English Channel, and it had felt like being let out of prison.
No one knew where he was because he hadn’t planned it. He’d simply walked out, boarded a random train and taken the next ferry out.
He leaned his head against the trunk of the apple tree and closed his eyes letting the weak winter sun warm his face and the gentle breeze ruffle his hair. Later he might walk around the fields of swaying purple flowers or even go down to the beach and watch the waves crash on the rocks. Without cars, life was forced to slow down. And he was going to learn to slow down, to be unemployed, to give up on life goals and having a purpose. And soon, he might take another random boat to another place. Then another.
And he would enjoy being alone.
A muffled shout drew his attention. He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder to see a wheelchair careering down a slope while a middle-aged woman in a nurse’s uniform ran after it trying to stop it. The crazy paving on the path was making the wheelchair and the old man inside it jog and bump alarmingly.
Adam pushed up from the picnic blanket and sprinted towards the path. He was just in time to catch the handle before the chair tipped forward and spilled the old man on the ground. Even so, the poor fellow was half out of the chair, one leg trailing in the grass.
“Oh, my good God.” The nurse panted as she caught up to them. “The chair got away from me on the slope, and he” – She indicated the old man – “can’t use his left hand to stop it.”
She tried to help her patient back into his chair but he pushed her away .
“Don’t you dare touch me you, hatchet woman. There is a witness this time, so when I report you, they’ll believe me.”
“I’m just trying – ”
“I know what you’re trying. And I haven’t named you in my will, so there’s no gain in killing me.”
She gave Adam an exasperated look. “It’s the speed gear thing, it got jammed.” Her face, which had been ashen with fear earlier, regained its colour.
“Can I help?” Adam crouched down and spoke to the man directly. He knew how much disabled people hated being talked about over their head.
The man turned sharp blue eyes on him. He was clearly shaken but still very much in command of himself. “I don’t need help. And not from her.”
Adam looked from the old man to the nurse. If there was a secret there, it wasn’t obvious as she tried to help get him into the chair. It wasn’t easy because the chair was listing badly to one side, so every time she placed his feet back on the footrests, they slid off. And the old man wasn’t cooperating.
“Would it be better if I lifted you out?” Adam spoke directly to him. “Then your nurse can straighten the chair before I lower you back into it.”
The man looked Adam over before nodding. He was probably sick and tired of people doing what they thought was right for him instead of asking him first.
Placing his hand carefully under the old man’s knees and behind his back, he lifted as gently as he could. The man must have been tall and broad once. Even crippled, he had strong muscles, at least on the right side. His left was emaciated and limp. Stroke, Adam guessed.
The nurse adjusted the seat, moved it back to the path and slotted the cushion in place. Adam lowered the man back into the chair and helped set his feet on the footrests. “Does anything hurt? You were thrown about quite hard.”
The man considered him for a second. “I’m fine. Thank you, doctor.”
It took Adam by surprise. No one knew him here and he’d barely been on the island twenty-four hours.
“Don’t look so worried, young man, I’ve had enough doctors in my life to recognize the signs. I’d hardly let any Tom, Dick or Harry lay hands on me. Now, do you have a name?”
“Adam Mortimer,” he said, suppressing a smile. There was something oddly endearing about the old man. There was also no doubt that he was too old and disabled for a long ramble in the fields. “Are you far from home? Could I walk with you there?”
“You can absolutely come with me, but not home.” He extended a hand. “I’m Du Montfort.”
The handshake was firm, and his blue eyes were sharp and intelligent. “You seem responsible, Dr Adam Mortimer, even if you’re a little too pretty. I have to attend an event at the sweatshop, and Nurse Hatchett here might not manage the rest of the trip.”
“I can manage,” she said patiently. “Let’s not disturb the young man, he was…” She looked at the spot where he’d been sitting. His jacket and book still lay under the tree.
