Then to my astonishment his features cleared, and his head straightened on his shoulders.
Will Traynor gazed at me steadily, the faintest of smiles flickering across his face. ‘Good morning, Miss Clark,’ he said. ‘I hear you’re my latest minder.’
Nathan had finished adjusting the footrests. He shook his head as he stood up. ‘You are a bad man, Mr T. Very bad.’ He grinned, and held out a broad hand, which I shook limply. Nathan exuded an air of unflappability. ‘I’m afraid you just got Will’s best Christy Brown impression. You’ll get used to him. His bark is worse than his bite.’
Mrs Traynor was holding the cross at her neck with slim white fingers. She moved it backwards and forwards along its thin gold chain, a nervous habit. Her face was rigid. ‘I’ll leave you all to get on. You can call through using the intercom if you need any help. Nathan will talk you through Will’s routines, and his equipment.’
‘I’m here, mother. You don’t have to talk across me. My brain isn’t paralysed. Yet.’
‘Yes, well, if you’re going to be foul, Will, I think it’s best if Miss Clark does talk directly to Nathan.’ His mother wouldn’t look at him as she spoke, I noticed. She kept her gaze about ten feet away on the floor. ‘I’m working from home today. So I’ll pop in at lunchtime, Miss Clark.’
‘Okay.’ My voice emerged as a squawk.
Mrs Traynor disappeared. We were silent while we listened to her clipped footsteps disappearing down the hall towards the main house.
Then Nathan broke the silence. ‘You mind if I go and talk Miss Clark through your meds, Will? You want the television? Some music?’
‘Radio Four please, Nathan.’
‘Sure thing.’
We walked through to the kitchen.
‘You not had much experience with quadriplegics, Mrs T says?’
‘No.’