‘Sorry, mate,’ Nathan said. ‘But Lou and I are not going to manage this alone. Here, Lou, you’re prettier than I am. Go and collar a few extra pairs of arms, will you?’
Will closed his eyes, set his jaw and I ran towards the stands.
I would not have believed so many people could turn down a cry for help when it involved a wheelchair stuck in mud, especially as the cry did come from a girl in a miniskirt and flashing her most endearing smile. I am not usually good with strangers, but desperation made me fearless. I walked from group to group of racegoers in the grandstand, asking if they could just spare me a few minutes’ help. They looked at me and my clothes as if I were plotting some kind of trap.
‘It’s for a man in a wheelchair,’ I said. ‘He’s a bit stuck.’
‘We’re just waiting on the next race,’ they said. Or, ‘Sorry.’ Or, ‘It’ll have to wait till after the two thirty. We have a monkey on this one.’
I even thought about collaring a jockey or two. But as I got close to the enclosure, I saw that they were even smaller than I was.
By the time I got to the parade ring I was incandescent with suppressed rage. I suspect I was snarling at people then, not smiling. And there, finally, joy of joys, were the lads in striped polo shirts. The back of their shirts referred to ‘Marky’s Last Stand’ and they clutched cans of Pilsner and Tennent’s Extra. Their accents suggested they were from somewhere in the north-east, and I was pretty sure that they had not had any significant break from alcohol for the last twenty-four hours. They cheered as I approached, and I fought the urge to give them the finger again.
‘Gissa smile, sweetheart. It’s Marky’s stag weekend,’ one slurred, slamming a ham-sized hand on to my shoulder.
‘It’s Monday.’ I tried not to flinch as I peeled it off.
‘You’re joking. Monday already?’ He reeled backwards. ‘Well, you should give him a kiss, like.’
‘Actually,’ I said. ‘I’ve come over to ask you for help.’
‘Ah’ll give you any help you need, pet.’ This was accompanied by a lascivious wink.
His mates swayed gently around him like aquatic plants.
‘No, really. I need you to help my friend. Over in the car park.’
‘Ah’m sorry, ah’m not sure ah’m in any fit state to help youse, pet.’
‘Hey up. Next race is up, Marky. You got money on this? I think I’ve got money on this.’
They turned back towards the track, already losing interest. I looked over my shoulder at the car park, seeing the hunched figure of Will, Nathan pulling vainly at the handles of his chair. I pictured myself returning home to tell Will’s parents that we had left Will’s super-expensive chair in a car park. And then I saw the tattoo.
‘He’s a soldier,’ I said, loudly. ‘Ex-soldier.’
One by one they turned round.
‘He was injured. In Iraq. All we wanted to do was get him a nice day out. But nobody will help us.’ As I spoke the words, I felt my eyes welling up with tears.
‘A vet? You’re kidding us. Where is he?’
‘In the car park. I’ve asked lots of people, but they just don’t want to help.’
It seemed to take a minute or two for them to digest what I’d said. But then they looked at each other in amazement.
‘C’mon, lads. We’re not having that.’ They swayed after me in a wayward trail. I could hear them exclaiming between themselves, muttering. ‘Bloody civvies … no idea what it’s like … ’
When we reached them, Nathan was standing by Will, whose head had sunk deep into the collar of his coat with cold, even as Nathan covered his shoulders with another blanket.
‘These very nice gentlemen have offered to help us,’ I said.
Nathan was staring at the cans of lager. I had to admit that you’d have had to look quite hard to see a suit of armour in any of them.
‘Where do youse want to get him to?’ said one.
The others stood around Will, nodding their hellos. One offered him a beer, apparently unable to grasp that Will could not pick it up.
Nathan motioned to our car. ‘Back in the car, ultimately. But to do that we need to get him over to the stand, and then reverse the car back to him.’
‘You don’t need to do that,’ said one, clapping Nathan on the back. ‘We can take him to your car, can’t we, lads?’
There was a chorus of agreement. They began to position themselves around Will’s chair.
I shifted uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know … that’s a long way for you to carry him,’ I ventured. ‘And the chair’s very heavy.’
They were howlingly drunk. Some of them could barely hang on to their cans of drink. One thrust his can of Tennent’s into my hand.
‘Don’t you worry, pet. Anything for a fellow soldier, isn’t that right, lads?’
‘We wouldn’t leave you there, mate. We never leave a man down, do we?’
I saw Nathan’s face and shook my head furiously at his quizzical expression. Will seemed unlikely to say anything. He just looked grim, and then, as the men clustered around his chair, and with a shout, hoisted it up between them, vaguely alarmed.
‘What regiment, pet?’
I tried to smile, trawling my memory for names. ‘Rifles … ’ I said. ‘Eleventh rifles.’
‘I don’t know the eleventh rifles,’ said another.
Will closed his eyes, set his jaw and I ran towards the stands.
I would not have believed so many people could turn down a cry for help when it involved a wheelchair stuck in mud, especially as the cry did come from a girl in a miniskirt and flashing her most endearing smile. I am not usually good with strangers, but desperation made me fearless. I walked from group to group of racegoers in the grandstand, asking if they could just spare me a few minutes’ help. They looked at me and my clothes as if I were plotting some kind of trap.
‘It’s for a man in a wheelchair,’ I said. ‘He’s a bit stuck.’
‘We’re just waiting on the next race,’ they said. Or, ‘Sorry.’ Or, ‘It’ll have to wait till after the two thirty. We have a monkey on this one.’
I even thought about collaring a jockey or two. But as I got close to the enclosure, I saw that they were even smaller than I was.
By the time I got to the parade ring I was incandescent with suppressed rage. I suspect I was snarling at people then, not smiling. And there, finally, joy of joys, were the lads in striped polo shirts. The back of their shirts referred to ‘Marky’s Last Stand’ and they clutched cans of Pilsner and Tennent’s Extra. Their accents suggested they were from somewhere in the north-east, and I was pretty sure that they had not had any significant break from alcohol for the last twenty-four hours. They cheered as I approached, and I fought the urge to give them the finger again.
‘Gissa smile, sweetheart. It’s Marky’s stag weekend,’ one slurred, slamming a ham-sized hand on to my shoulder.
‘It’s Monday.’ I tried not to flinch as I peeled it off.
‘You’re joking. Monday already?’ He reeled backwards. ‘Well, you should give him a kiss, like.’
‘Actually,’ I said. ‘I’ve come over to ask you for help.’
‘Ah’ll give you any help you need, pet.’ This was accompanied by a lascivious wink.
His mates swayed gently around him like aquatic plants.
‘No, really. I need you to help my friend. Over in the car park.’
‘Ah’m sorry, ah’m not sure ah’m in any fit state to help youse, pet.’
‘Hey up. Next race is up, Marky. You got money on this? I think I’ve got money on this.’
They turned back towards the track, already losing interest. I looked over my shoulder at the car park, seeing the hunched figure of Will, Nathan pulling vainly at the handles of his chair. I pictured myself returning home to tell Will’s parents that we had left Will’s super-expensive chair in a car park. And then I saw the tattoo.
‘He’s a soldier,’ I said, loudly. ‘Ex-soldier.’
One by one they turned round.
‘He was injured. In Iraq. All we wanted to do was get him a nice day out. But nobody will help us.’ As I spoke the words, I felt my eyes welling up with tears.
‘A vet? You’re kidding us. Where is he?’
‘In the car park. I’ve asked lots of people, but they just don’t want to help.’
It seemed to take a minute or two for them to digest what I’d said. But then they looked at each other in amazement.
‘C’mon, lads. We’re not having that.’ They swayed after me in a wayward trail. I could hear them exclaiming between themselves, muttering. ‘Bloody civvies … no idea what it’s like … ’
When we reached them, Nathan was standing by Will, whose head had sunk deep into the collar of his coat with cold, even as Nathan covered his shoulders with another blanket.
‘These very nice gentlemen have offered to help us,’ I said.
Nathan was staring at the cans of lager. I had to admit that you’d have had to look quite hard to see a suit of armour in any of them.
‘Where do youse want to get him to?’ said one.
The others stood around Will, nodding their hellos. One offered him a beer, apparently unable to grasp that Will could not pick it up.
Nathan motioned to our car. ‘Back in the car, ultimately. But to do that we need to get him over to the stand, and then reverse the car back to him.’
‘You don’t need to do that,’ said one, clapping Nathan on the back. ‘We can take him to your car, can’t we, lads?’
There was a chorus of agreement. They began to position themselves around Will’s chair.
I shifted uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know … that’s a long way for you to carry him,’ I ventured. ‘And the chair’s very heavy.’
They were howlingly drunk. Some of them could barely hang on to their cans of drink. One thrust his can of Tennent’s into my hand.
‘Don’t you worry, pet. Anything for a fellow soldier, isn’t that right, lads?’
‘We wouldn’t leave you there, mate. We never leave a man down, do we?’
I saw Nathan’s face and shook my head furiously at his quizzical expression. Will seemed unlikely to say anything. He just looked grim, and then, as the men clustered around his chair, and with a shout, hoisted it up between them, vaguely alarmed.
‘What regiment, pet?’
I tried to smile, trawling my memory for names. ‘Rifles … ’ I said. ‘Eleventh rifles.’
‘I don’t know the eleventh rifles,’ said another.
