‘Hey, you.’
My dad emerged into the hallway behind me. ‘Aha. Was the ramp okay, lads?’ He had spent all afternoon making the particle-board ramp for the outside steps.
Damion carefully negotiated Derek’s chair up and into our narrow hallway. ‘Nice,’ Damion said, as I closed the door behind him. ‘Very nice. I’ve seen worse in hospitals.’
‘Bernard Clark.’ Dad reached out and shook Damion’s hand. He held it out towards Derek, before snatching it away again with a sudden flush of embarrassment. ‘Bernard. Sorry, um … I don’t know how to greet a … I can’t shake your –’ He began to stutter.
‘A curtsy Derek be fine.’
Dad stared at him and then, when he realized Derek was joking, he let out a great laugh of relief. ‘Hah!’ he said, and clapped Derek on the shoulder. ‘Yes. Curtsy. Nice one. Hah!
