Wide Eyed and Legless

After my tortuous night of back pain the night before I told the nurse I wanted an early night that evening and flung myself, face down, onto the bed. I had managed a good couple of hours kip before rolling onto my side and waking suddenly with a wince. I swore quite loudly and sat up in annoyance. As it had done the previous night, the pain subsided in the sitting position.

Well that was bloody marvellous wasn't it? I can't sleep sitting-up, not unless I'm on the Hogwarts Express or in History of Magic class, and I glanced around the room as if it was to blame.

The owl hooted at me from across the room. I couldn't see it but I knew it was still there waiting patiently for me to tie my reply to its leg and open the window to let it out. I picked up the parchment and read what I had scrawled on the back of mum's letter in my cobweb like handwriting.

I'm fine mum. It is a muggle hospital in Devon, I guess I was subconsciously trying to come home but didn't make it all the way.

Or maybe I subconsciously didn't want to come home yet I thought to myself before reading on.

The falling roof didn't hurt me. The portkey dropped me in front of a car and I kind of hurt my back and banged my head a bit. The nurse says that it's not serious and that I'll be okay. They keep saying different letters to me though. MRI, ASAP and BCG. Oh and they think you and dad are hippies who cuddle trees at a commune. If any of that means anything to you remember to let me know when I see you next.

When, I don't know why that 'when' made me feel so strange.

They had to stick a needle in me and I went to sleep for a while. I don't know how long I've been gone; I hope you haven't been too worried not to hear from me. I'm glad it's all over and everybody's okay. I'm glad Harry and Hermione got out alright too, I was worried about them, tell them I'll see them soon.

I suddenly knew what my brain was thinking, it was thinking for me without my consent or approval of its plans again, I hate it when my brain does that. I was going to leave the hospital, but not for home. I wasn't ready to go back just yet. I wasn't...done yet.

I didn't even know what it was I needed to do myself. I thought that something might be wrong with me. Maybe that bump on the head had done more than the tests had managed to find just like the doctor had said. I picked up the pen I had stolen from the nurse's pocket when she was massaging my back and began to scribble more on my note back to the family. This was to be my explanation for what I was about to do after all, I owed them something better than an empty bed when they came to get me after all.

But how do you explain doing something when you don't know why you're doing it yourself?

I'm not going to be at the hospital anymore by the time you get this owl mum. I'm going to go and take a break for a while. I'm going to be on my own for a while.

Please try not to fret about me. I really am okay. There's just something...

I don't know what the reason is mum, dad, everyone. I just know I'm not ready to come home just yet but that I will do soon and I really don't want any of you to worry about me or come looking for me.

Oh and I lost my wand so if you find it would you keep it safe for me?

I know this doesn't make any sense. It doesn't to me either but I just know that I've got something I need to sort out for myself and I need to be on my own to do it.

Love to you all, I'm so glad you all came through okay, and don't let Harry and Hermione go crazy and tear Devon apart trying to find me. They're not going to find me until I manage to and I'm more than a little lost right now.

Sorry to spoil the party, go ahead and have it without me, I don't mind,

Ron.

I re read the letter and decided that I sounded equal parts insane and self absorbed and hoped that they would forgive me for being a selfish bastard about this. I rolled up the parchment and the owl seemed to know that it's time had finally come as it fluttered over to my bed and settled upon my lap. I tied the note to its leg and shifted to get out of bed and open the window.

"I'm sorry I took so long to give you your answer," I mumbled to the owl, "thanks for behaving so well. Bye."

The own flapped away and was soon swallowed up by the night. I closed the window again and crawled back into bed. I looked at the clock. It was 10:08PM. I tried to lie down but the rock in the mattress feeling came right back with a vengeance and I sat up with a growl and then went a little potty. I pounded the bed with my fists in a very immature tantrum before resigning myself to another night of dull torture until I woke in the morning in such a state of comfort that I resented the fact that I couldn't stay there and get the eight hours I was entitled to.

I was so annoyed. My back had been fine since I got up but then, as soon as I needed to sleep, it felt like it had corrugated just to spite me.

'Ha, this'll teach you; fight the most evil wizard in history, almost get squished by a falling chimney, portkey into an oncoming car and spend a couple of days on an uncomfortable bed being stabbed with needles by muggles who think you're crazy and expect to get a good night do ya? Well I'll show you...'

My back was a malicious git. If it had been a separate entity I would have punched it.

I managed to last until just after three in the morning before my back pain drove me to hurl myself out of the bed and ransack the room for my clothes. I was getting out of here now.

I clamped the open back-to-front shirt thingy closed over my bare arse and tip toed out of my room in search of clothing and a way out of the place. My bare feet slapped on the cold smooth floor and I saw the night nurse sitting in her room and ducked underneath the window as I passed by. I tried several doors before finding one unlocked and stepped inside.

It was lit by the bright moon outside and I could see a series of small metal doors, they must be muggle lockers, and I wished I had my wand with me. I could open them up in a jiffy with that. Instead I had to search for some kind of wire and hope I remembered what Fred taught me about picking muggle locks.

I eventually found jeans and a t-shirt that were just about my size and, thankfully, underwear too before slapping my barefoot way along the corridors and trying to find the stairs. I kept my eye open for any shoes that might just happen to be laying around but funnily enough muggles don't leave shoes here and there randomly any more than wizards do so I just had to stay barefoot for the time being.

I found something called a fire escape. I thought that this might be a code word for a floo network connected fireplace but no such luck. All that happened was that I was now outside at the top of a metal ladder with an alarm bell ringing in my ears at a deafening volume. I descended the ladder as fast as I could, catching my feet and hands on loose flakes of peeling paint as I went, before landing heavily on the gravel below and hobbling into some bushes to hide.

As some kind of building evacuation was set into motion and then overridden by an angry looking man in a suit I closed my eyes and leaned against the brick wall behind me, still safely concealed by the bushes, and plunged my hands into my jean pockets to keep my fingers warm. I felt something papery and pulled it out. I had two pieces of paper, one saying twenty pounds and another saying five pounds. This was money? What the hell? This stuff would blow away in the wind. Surely any old body could just make this stuff at home. I shoved the money back into my pocket and noticed that the people were all milling back inside again.

I got up and, keeping to the shadows, walked out onto the street and into the town.

I had sat on a bench and watched the sun rise over the ocean and then watched as the shops on the seafront began opening up for another days trading. I saw one man carrying several buckets of seaside attire out from inside and setting up a small display for passers by to browse amongst during the course of the day. I looked along the other shop fronts and saw that they too were going about their early morning set up of stock.

None of them were really paying attention to the empty street and most were going around the back or into stockrooms for long periods of time. I knew this was immoral but I took my chance. I got up and walked quietly across the street and into a shoe store just as the manager stepped into a storeroom full of boxes. I grabbed a trainer and pulled it onto my foot and then searched for it's other half. I couldn't see it anywhere. Then I realised that all the shoes on display were left ones.

"Shit!" I cursed under my breath and heard the voice of the manager calling out.

"Is somebody there?"

I ran out of the store with my one trainer on my left foot and wondered what the hell I was going to do. I found myself laughing as I ducked into an alleyway to hide.

"I s'pose I could always hop from now on," I said as I shook my sore head with amusement.

"Need a right shoe?" a gruff voice sounded from the darkened alleyway.

I jumped and stared back down towards the sound of the voice butI couldn't make out a person anywhere. Maybe it was a wizard with a invisibility cloak I thought.

"Um hello?" I said cautiously.

Something under a cardboard box shifted slightly and I jumped backwards and found myself raising my fists instinctively, I really had been in too much peril recently to react any other way. A dirty face, deep lines and a greeny-yellow beard, looked up at me and grunted while pointing behind me.

"The shoe shop further down do all right shoes," he growled again, "You probably won't get a match for that one but it'll be near enough I bet."

I froze and swallowed.

"Err...thanks," I said quietly.

The man who looked more like the ground than the real ground settled back down into the cardboard and I couldn't make him out anymore. I backed out of the alleyway and glanced around the still empty street. I set off further down the street to look for the other shoe shop for people who only had one right leg, muggles were weird, and waited for the young girl who was tapping something into the till and removing the ream of paper that churned out of it to go back out the back.

I dashed inside, grabbed a similar looking trainer to the one I had on and yanked it onto my foot, not pausing to tie either shoelace before running for it as far from the two crime scene as I could before my back reminded me that it hated me and I was forced to stop.

I looked up and saw that I was at a junction between the seafront and Beach Road. I saw lots of neon signs for bed and breakfast and guessed that this was a good time to find somewhere to stay. I walked a little way down and rang the doorbell of one of the places with a vacancy sign in the window. There was also a sign stating that one night stays and long-term tenancy were welcomed. I like a place as vague as I am!

The landlord was a friendly-enough man who asked me for payment for the first night in advance and informed me I could tell him how long I intended to stay at breakfast the following morning. I handed over the two pieces of paper that I had found in my pocket and he showed me up to my room and began explaining what key opened what door.

I sat on the bed and sighed when he left me alone and fell back onto the soft mattress before wincing and making a tired whimpering sound as an invisible club slammed me in the small of the back and I sat up again.

"Bugger!" I grumbled.

Sleep wasn't going to be an option for me obviously so I decided to go out exploring after first having a very satisfying pee. At the foot of the stairs I tripped over something that clattered to the floor, taking me with it.

"Ow!" called a voice from the room to my left, the lounge I was to find out later, followed by a wicked chuckle.

I struggled to my feet, my back reminding me that it was still my enemy and my legs caught on whatever it was I had fallen over. A flustered old lady rushed out of the room and tried to help me up. She was repeatedly apologising to me in a softly troubled tone of voice while snapping at the jovial old man who had called over to me when I fell.

"I warned you about just throwing your legs aside when you get comfortable, you could've broken this poor boy's neck," the woman hissed.

Throwing his legs? Yes I had heard her correctly and yes I had fallen over a pair of legs, false legs, belonging to the old man who had said 'Ow!'. I laughed and picked up the pair of prosthetics, carrying them into the lounge and resting them against the side of the armchair.

"Sorry about that," I said as I looked around the room and saw it was full of pensioners, either laughing or tutting at the old man.

"I'm gonna get a bruise now," he grinned, rubbing the synthetic shin of the right leg.

"Me too!" I laughed.

The man was introduced to me as Jim, the woman fussing over me was Dolly and there was a long list of other names reeled-off to me as each pensioner nodded on hearing their name.

They were on holiday, organised by their community centre, for a week and had been in Paignton for a couple of days already. A very friendly woman with no teeth told me that the other half of their group were lodging a couple of places down the road from us and that they were waiting for the coordinator to come and tell them the plan for the day.

As it turned out their day was an easy one, they were told that they could have a wander wherever they wanted to go today. Some planned to hire deckchairs and sit on the beach, some declared they were going to the pier for the afternoon, and Jim, Dolly and the jolly toothless woman I was to come to know as Rosie were going to go along with the majority and descend upon the arcades in the high street.

I was about to make my excuses and go on my way when Jim re-attached his legs, shuffled into his wheelchair and instructed me to get pushing.

"The poor boy's probably got plans of her own..." a flustered Dolly said with an apologetic look thrown my way as she spoke.

Rosie wasn't nearly as sensitive to my plans.

"All right; it's me, Dolly and no-legged Jim for the fruit machines too. Come on red, you've got to set the ramp up on the steps before you can wheel him out."

Was she speaking to me? She was. Where was this person who was supposed to be running the show? Surely someone's been employed to do this sort of thing. That someone was called Marie. She was rushing along Beach road, waving her gratitude over her shoulder at me, and trying to catch-up with the runaway old biddy who was disappearing around the corner and off down the esplanade.

Falling over false limbs: volunteering to chaperone the elderly. I don't see any connection.

The thing is I didn't have any plans for the day, there wasn't any real reason to say no to what I was informed was called the Last of the Summer Wine day trippers, so I picked up the portable ramp and got to work.

After that afternoon I came to the conclusion that most old people have a gambling problem. Maybe it's revenge against their next of kin. They don't take you to the seaside with them so you spend their inheritance on slot machines and novelty tea towels. Fair's fair I suppose.

While on an errand to get change of a fiver an old man passed me by and gave me a wave. The woman with him asked who he was waving at, to which he replied.

"That's no-legged Jim's boy."

So I had skipped out of the hospital to find myself and found that I was a no-legged man's adopted grandson. This was getting slightly surreal.

At breakfast the following morning the landlord apologised to me for not having a single table and asked if I minded being seated at one of the pensioners' tables. No-legged Jim answered on my behalf.

"He's sitting with us mate. I've saved him a seat."

I sat down at the table with Jim, Dolly and Rosie who told me that we were going on the steam railway today, the train, there's a nice change for me, and the zoo tomorrow.

"We've cleared it for you to have a seat on the minibus," Dolly said reassuringly.

I was a tad startled. I didn't even know if I was going to be here tomorrow and the Summer Wine crew were making excursion commitments on my behalf.

"I haven't even sorted another night here yet," I sputtered as my orange juice went the wrong way down my throat.

"That's sorted," Jim said nonchalantly as he buttered his toast.

I looked to Dolly, the sane yin to Jim's loopy yang, and spelled out the phrase 'huh?' with my eyebrows.

"Jim paid for your room tonight with his winnings," she smiled, showing a degree of sympathy for my hijack status.

At the arcade Jim had won the jackpot on three different machines, causing the management to regret giving him a stool to sit on after he got up from his wheelchair and balanced precariously upon his false limbs to play the granddaddy of the arcade, and they spitefully refused to change all the pound coins into notes as he left.

"You should've seen the fella's face when Jim paid him twenty-five pounds all in change," Rosie chuckled.

I laughed at this before feeling incredibly uncomfortable about freeloading from a retired legless gentleman.

"Listen it's not that I'm not grateful Jim but..." I began.

"You wheeled me around all day yesterday for free and I won't have a single complaint from you young red."

I rolled my eyes and decided that protesting wouldn't get me anywhere so I shrugged and nodded. Dolly looked happy enough and I turned to see Rosie shovelling food into her toothless mouth. I wondered if it was painful to eat toast with your gums just as my full English breakfast arrived at our table.

"They've given us ice hockey pucks," Jim muttered, staring down at his plate.

"It's black pudding," Dolly corrected, though with some suspicion at the rock hard disc on her own plate.

"It doesn't matter where I put it on my plate, it keeps skidding back into the middle," Jim stabbed at it a couple of times, "Shouldn't you be able to pierce it with a fork?"

I tucked in to my breakfast and watched as everybody in the dining room examined the black pudding as if it was a petrified dog turd. No-legged Jim lifted the black pudding off his plate and placed it on the dining room table, and then he rested his cup of tea on it and sat back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

"Jim!" Dolly hissed as she took the black pudding and wrapped it up in her napkin, "You're like a kid you are."

After breakfast was over with, not one black pudding eaten I might add, the summer Wine crew gathered in the lobby. There was a lengthy discussion about the bringing of coats, as the weather was overcast in a very intimidating way, and while I set up Jim's ramp an old lady with what sounded like a South African accent struck-up a conversation with me.

"It's so nice of you to help out with no-legged Jim for the week, it was such hard work on poor Dolly the last couple of days you know?"

The week? The week! How did this happen? When was this agreed to? I fell over the guy's legs for crying out loud, now I'm a caregiver?

"Dolly, I can't afford to do that," I yammered to the poor woman when I found her, "this place is twenty five quid a night. I'd need to take a job."

"It's all right dear," Rosie interrupted, "no-legged Jim's a devil with those slot machines, he'll earn your twenty-five pounds on them. All you have to do is find him a place that'll let him take their jackpots."

Well it was a plan, a plan that didn't cost me anything. I still didn't get it though. What the hell was my appeal to these people? They only met me twenty-four hours ago and we'd gone gambling, played crazy golf, eaten dinner, complained about our restless nights sleep and our aching bones, and now we had just had breakfast together.

They had asked me if I was on holiday and why I was on my own; blah, blah, blah... I had vagued it up for them until they finally accepted the fact that I was just hanging around at the seaside. I don't know, maybe they felt sorry for me more than they needed me around. Either way you don't look a legless gift horse in the mouth.

Speaking of no-legged Jim, I had noticed that everybody called him no-legged Jim when they were talking about him, except for Dolly, and Jim when talking to him.

I decided to clear the matter up to avoid any confusion.

"Hey Rosie, does everybody call him no-legged Jim because there's another Jim that people confuse him with?"

Rosie looked at me as if I'd just asked her the world's stupidest question.

"No," she said at last, "we call him that because he doesn't have any legs."

She stared at me momentarily before cracking up, her gummy grin spread wide across her face, and called me a daft sod. I took my position behind no-legged Jim and started to manoeuvre him toward the door.

"Mush, mush!" he yelled, cracking an invisible whip.

I tried not to think of my back and how much I was aggravating it with all this and set off down the ramp. I'm sure nervous breakdowns aren't supposed to be like this.

I can't even go insane the right way.