I loved them – these quads and their carers – for their courage and their generosity and their imaginations. I spent two hours that evening writing down their suggestions, following their links to related websites they had tried and tested, even talking to a few in the chat rooms. By the time I left I had a destination; we would head to California, to The Four Winds Ranch, a specialist centre which offered experienced help ‘in a way that will make you forget you ever needed help’, according to its website. The ranch itself, a low-slung timber building set into a forest clearing near Yosemite, had been set up by a former stuntman who refused to let his spinal injury limit the things he could do, and the online visitors book was full of happy and grateful holidaymakers who swore that he had changed the way they felt about their disability – and themselves. At least six of the chat-room users had been there, and all said it had turned their lives around.
It was wheelchair friendly, but with all the facilities you would expect from a luxury hotel. There were outside sunken baths with discreet hoists, and specialist masseurs. There was trained medical help on site, and a cinema with spaces for wheelchairs beside the normal seats. There was an accessible outdoor hot tub where you could sit and stare up at the stars. We would spend a week there, and then a few days on the coast at a hotel complex where Will could swim, and get a good look at the rugged coastline. Best of all, I had found a climax to the holiday that Will would never forget – a skydive, with the help of parachute instructors who were trained in helping quads jump. They had special equipment that would strap Will to them (apparently, the most important thing was securing their legs so that their knees didn’t fly up and bash them in the face).
I would show him the hotel brochure, but I wasn’t going to tell him about this. I was just going to turn up there with him and then watch him do it. For those few, precious minutes Will would be weightless, and free. He would escape the dreaded chair. He would escape gravity.
I printed out all the information and kept that one sheet at the top. Whenever I looked at it I felt a germ of excitement building – both at the thought of my first ever long-haul trip, but also at the thought that this might just be it.
This might be the thing that would change Will’s mind.
I showed Nathan the next morning, the two of us stooping furtively over our coffees in the kitchen as if we were doing something properly clandestine. He flicked through the papers that I had printed off.
‘I have spoken to other quads about the skydiving thing. There’s no medical reason he can’t do it. And the bungee jumping. They have special harnesses to relieve any potential pressure points on his spine.’
I studied his face anxiously. I knew Nathan didn’t rate my capabilities when it came to Will’s medical well-being. It was important to me that he was happy with what I’d planned.
‘The place here has everything we might need. They say if we call ahead and bring a doctor’s prescription, they can even get any generic drugs that we might need, so that there is no chance of us running out.’
He frowned. ‘Looks good,’ he said, finally. ‘You did a great job.’
‘You think he’ll like it?’
He shrugged. ‘I haven’t got a clue. But –’ he handed me the papers ‘– you’ve surprised us so far, Lou.’ His smile was a sly thing, breaking in from the side of his face. ‘No reason you couldn’t do it again.’
I showed Mrs Traynor before I left for the evening.
She had just pulled into the drive in her car and I hesitated, out of sight of Will’s window, before I approached her. ‘I know this is expensive,’ I said. ‘But … I think it looks amazing. I really think Will could have the time of his life. If … if you know what I mean.’
She glanced through it all in silence, and then studied the figures that I had compiled.
‘I’ll pay for myself, if you like. For my board and lodging. I don’t want anyone thinking –’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, cutting me off. ‘Do what you have to do. If you think you can get him to go then just book it.’
I understood what she was saying. There was no time for anything else.
‘Do you think you can persuade him?’ she said.
‘Well … if I … if I make out that it’s … ’ I swallowed, ‘ … partly for my benefit. He thinks I’ve never done enough with my life. He keeps telling me I should travel. That I should … do things.’
She looked at me very carefully. She nodded. ‘Yes. That sounds like Will.’ She handed back the paperwork.
‘I am … ’ I took a breath, and then, to my surprise, I found that I couldn’t speak. I swallowed hard, twice. ‘What you said before. I –’
She didn’t seem to want to wait for me to speak. She ducked her head, her slim fingers reaching for the chain around her neck. ‘Yes. Well, I’d better go in. I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know what he says.’
