FAULT
Kris’s house, West Bridgford, that evening
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The sound of the TV had become a drone. Sian had been sitting with her leg elevated, flicking through Netflix for the last few hours. She’d tried walking without her crutches earlier. It had taken her a while to take her first step, focusing, trying to remember how walking worked. It had felt strange and her balance was off but she’d managed to take the four steps from the sofa to the armchair, then back again. Now, though, her foot and leg were very sore.
Elvis sat up in his basket, his ears straightening like antennae. Then he barked, and ran into the hallway. The next thing Kris was on his way in, back from work. He was fussing the dog, who was dancing around him, and Sian smiled. You can trust someone your dog likes.
‘Hey u
