A Christmas Knight

‘It’s rude.’

‘But I didn’t say a swear.’

How was she going to explain this? ‘Ty, let’s talk about this later, OK?’

‘But I wasn’t rude,’ Tyler said, looking puzzled.

Dominic raked a hand through his hair. ‘It’s a fair question. I don’t joust any more because there was an accident and someone got hurt.’

He frowned. ‘My mum’s a nurse. She makes people better. Why didn’t your friend go to see a nurse or a doctor?’

Dominic took a deep breath. ‘It doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes even a nurse or doctor can’t fix things.’

‘Oh.’ Tyler digested the information. ‘Do you miss jousting?’

‘Ty, let’s talk about something else,’ Louisa pleaded. ‘I dunno—what the horse eats, what kind of saddle he has?’

But her son refused to budge. ‘If I’d been a knight and I didn’t do it any more, I think I’d miss jousting,’ Tyler said. ‘I want to be a knight.’

‘It takes a lot of practice and hard work,’ Dominic warned.

‘I don’t mind. I’m going to practise holding the reins at home. Bea showed me how. All I need is a ribbon.’

‘So let’s go and buy the ribbon now,’ Louisa said, seeing an opening. She caught Dominic’s eye and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’

He said nothing, and she stifled a sigh. So much for thinking he understood about Asperger’s and the way it gave a child tunnel vision. Then again, Ty had obviously trampled on a really sore spot. He hadn’t meant to: he just hadn’t been able to pick up the visual clues that Dominic was uncomfortable and she hadn’t been able to head Tyler in another direction.

‘Time to say goodbye, Ty,’ she said.

‘Goodbye, and thank you for showing me your horse,’ Tyler said politely.

Dominic leaned back against the stable door and watched them both walk over the yard. Hell. He hadn’t been prepared for that one.

Do you miss jousting?

Yes, he missed it. Missed it like crazy. Holding the lance in his right hand and the reins in his left, then focusing on the tilt, urging Pegasus to a quick canter and then closing in, focusing on where he was going to land his lance. Speed, precision and skill: the kind of thrill that reminded him he was still alive.

Except he’d been a little too precise, the last time he’d jousted. Too fast. And he’d unhorsed his opponent. Oliver had fallen awkwardly, and the armour hadn’t been enough to protect his back: he’d ended up with an incomplete spinal injury. An injury that had left him stuck in a wheelchair and ruined his career—because, as a surgeon, you needed strength as well as delicacy. And you also needed to be able to move round your patient. Stand up. Lean over. Oliver couldn’t do that any more.

Hell, hell, hell. He’d taken so much away from his brother. His career, his hobbies, his mobility, his joie de vivre—Oliver was in too much pain, most of the time, to be full of laughter the way he’d used to be.

So giving up jousting had been the least Dominic could do. To make absolutely sure he never made a mistake like that again and someone else ended up badly hurt.

Pegasus whickered and shoved his head against Dominic’s.

‘Yeah. I know you miss it, too.’ He made a fuss of his horse. ‘But we just do steady hacking nowadays, OK? It’s safer.’

On Monday, Louisa sought out Dominic at lunchtime. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

‘For me?’ He looked at her in surprise.

She went over to her locker, took out a plastic wallet and handed it to him.

He looked at it; it was a sketch of a horse. And not just any horse. One he recognised. ‘That’s Pegasus.’

‘Ty drew him for you yesterday. He just wanted to say thank you. For helping me sort out the lessons and for letting him make a fuss of your horse.’

‘No worries.’ He stared at the picture. ‘Nobody’s ever drawn my horse for me before. And he did this from memory, from seeing Pegasus just once?’ At Louisa’s nod, he blew out a breath. ‘Wow. He’s seriously good at this.’

‘I’ll tell him you liked it, shall I?’ She looked pleased, too; clearly she was more used to people being put off by her son’s directness.

‘You can tell him I’m going to frame it,’ Dominic said. ‘And tell him thank you.’

‘I’m sorry about the way he grilled you. He didn’t mean to trample on a sore spot. He doesn’t pick up—’

‘Visual cues, and he has tunnel vision,’ Dominic finished. ‘I know. I’m used to Andy.’ Andy had said the same thing, too: Why let the accident stop you jousting? He’d gone further, saying that Dominic giving up jousting wouldn’t fix Oliver’s back, so he was being completely self-indulgent and wallowing in it.

Maybe Andy and Tyler were right.

But Dominic still couldn’t see past the guilt. Oliver would never joust again, or be a surgeon again. And that knowledge was hard enough to live with; harder still was the knowledge that his brother was in constant pain. Oliver had forgiven him, but Dominic still couldn’t forgive himself.

‘Are you all right?’ Louisa asked, looking concerned.

‘Old ghosts.’ He shook himself. ‘Ignore me. I’m fine.’

And that was the biggest fib of all.

Dominic had gone back into his shell, Louisa thought over the next couple of days. He was always perfectly polite and professional if she was working with him in Resus, but she was aware of his reserve. She tried to put it out of her head; they were colleagues, so it shouldn’t matter. As long as the patients were treated properly, it shouldn’t matter that he was reserved with her.

And then, on Wednesday evening, her car refused to start after Tyler’s riding lesson. ‘Oh, great.’

‘Why won’t your car work, Mum?’ Ty asked.

‘I don’t know, love.’ She sighed. ‘I’d better call the roadside rescue people.’

She’d been waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour when Bea came over. ‘Are you all right?’

‘My car won’t start. I’ve called the roadside rescue people—hopefully they’ll be here soon and they’ll able to fix it.’ And hopefully it wouldn’t cost a fortune; the expenses of moving had eaten into her savings.

‘Come and sit in the kitchen. It’s getting chilly out here. I’ll get you a coffee,’ Bea said, shepherding them inside and switching on the kettle. ‘Ty, would you prefer juice or water?’

‘Apple juice, please.’

She rummaged in the fridge. ‘Sorry, love. I’ve got orange or cranberry. Or milk.’

‘Nothing, thank you.’

‘Always so polite. You have beautiful manners, Ty,’ she said with a smile.