Senseless, p.4
Senseless, page 4
Beth’s school had let her have the afternoon off to enter the competition. Her family arrived early and they sat on a bench outside the church drinking metallic-tasting tea from a flask M um had b r ought.
‘Are you nervous , maestro?’ Tom asked, digging her in the ribs.
‘Yes! I feel like everyone is going to be a hundred times better than me. They probably all have grade 8 and will be on BBC Young M usician of the Y ear 1992.’
‘Your teacher wouldn’t have entered you if she didn’t think you had a chance,’ M um said sensibly, reaching out a nd taking Beth’s hand.
‘Exactly, the teacher would know that this competition only attracts rubbish pianists like Beth.’
‘Tom! I’ve always hated you!’
‘Now now,children, play nicely.’ Dad grabbed Beth, pinning her arms to her sides.‘Just ignore him,Beth, he’s only jealous.’
Tom grunted and M um got up . ‘Let’s go and find our seats , ’ she said , and they trooped behind her , as they always seemed to do. Dad sometimes called her ‘Mother Duck’.
The cavernous church was cold and there was only a smattering of people in the front four pews. Beth’s family sat in the second row and looked keenly at the programme.
‘Arghh, I’m first to go!’ Beth said rather too loudly, sending echoes bouncing around the walls. She wished she’d been to the loo after that tea, but it was too late now.
‘You’ll be great and at least you can get it over with and relax. Remember , we have a surprise planned for later.’ Mum squeezed her hand again reassuringly.
Beth’s stomach was churning. She looked up at the beautiful stained – glass window behind the alt a r and said a little prayer to a God she was dubious about.
An old man in a brown suit came to the platform to welcome everyone and then read out her name, looking round to see which of the nervous – looking young people was Beth.
Mum squeezed her arm and gently pushed her out of the pew. She felt herself shaking slightly as she went to sit at the piano and paused before she began to play, temporarily forgetting every note of the music. Once she started to play, she felt alright, concentrating on her fingers. Despite her family’s admiration, she knew that she was no prodigy, never destined to be a concert musician. This was a grade 6 piece although she only had 5,really. She played okay. At least she got all the notes right and didn’t miss any keys.
She sat down next to the beaming row of her three favourite people, feeling exhausted. Listening to the others play, some of them made such sonorous music that she knew she wasn’t going to get any prizes.
When the pianists had all performed , the old man got back on the platform to announce the results. Beth was no longer nervous and nor did she really care what he said.
Beth was seventh out of eight competitors . S he just felt relieved it was all over.
‘Well done , love, you did it!’
‘Our little star,’ D ad said , looking very proud.
‘You managed not to be last!’ was Tom’s offering.
‘So what’s the surprise?’ Beth had been waiting all day.
‘First, we are going for tea at Hendon’s and then we are doing something else.’
‘Hendon’s hotel?! Wow, how posh! What is “something else”?’
‘Wait and see.’
‘Oh M u-um.’
*
After a tea of crumpets , and more cakes than even Tom could eat, D ad put a blindfold over Beth’s eyes and took her arm. They walked for what felt like a couple of streets, giggling when Beth tripped on the pavement.
‘Ta-dah!’ exclaimed D ad, throwing off the blindfold.
Beth looked up . T hey were outside a huge concert hall, facing a poster announcing a performance of Rachmaninoff’s Piano C oncerto N umber 2.
‘No way! My favourite – ever piece of music!’
Everyone was grinning.
‘We were so lucky with it being on today and we got great seats!’
Beth went to hug first M um and then D ad , before grabbing Tom’s arm and pulling him toward the building. She would remember this day forever.
Chapter 9
Sam, 2007
‘You wanted to see me?’ Sam said to Brian Crosby , his supervisor , as he knocked on his open door.
‘Ah , Sam , yes, come in , come in. Take a seat.’
Sam sat on the proffered chair, holding his breath in an irrational attempt to prevent Crosby from speaking further.
‘Can Sharon get you tea? Coffee? Water?’
‘No, nothing for me thanks.’ He was just waiting for the words he’d been expecting for the last few months. Words which seemed more inevitable after the diagnosis last month, even though nobody at work knew about that yet.
‘Well , Sam, I won’t beat around the bush but it ’ s hard for me to know how to put this.’
Here it comes, Sam thought.
‘You are a good worker , Sam , and people here seem to really like you. I used to get requests for you to be part of a particular team.’
‘You used to, right.’
‘In the last few months , though, I’ve had one or two reports that you seem to be struggling a bit.’ Crosby looked at Sam, waiting for an explanation but he wasn’t ready to give one yet.
‘So, are you struggling , Sam? I understand you and your wife had a baby not long ago? Is it that? Sleepless nights?’
Sam breathed in and out before he spoke . ‘Kim’s not my wife but yes, we have a baby. He’s over a year old now.’
‘Ah, wearing you out is he?’
‘Erm…’ Sam just wanted him to say it . ‘Do you need to let me go or…?’
‘Let you go?! No , Sam , but I need to know what’s going on and why your performance is flagging. Once I know that, we can see what we can do. If it’s the baby, everything will get back to normal soon, once he gets into his routines.’
‘Erm, well’, Sam rubbed his temples before continuing : he knew he had to come out and say it, ‘I’ve got m ultiple s clerosis.’
There w as a pause, like Crosby wasn’t sure what to say.
‘You might know it just as MS.’
‘I’ve heard of it . S o how long will it be before you’re better?’
Sam felt odd now that he’d said it. For the past three or four weeks , since the diagnosis , he hadn’t told a soul, not even Kim. He found that if he didn’t tell anyone, he didn’t have to deal with it because it wasn’t an issue in his life. The problem was that it was an issue and it was affecting him.
He had skimmed over the leaflets from the doctor, seeing words like progressive and lifelong , with lists of possible symptoms like vision problems, mobility difficulties, loss of bladder control, muscle spasms , not to mention reduced life expectancy.
Granted , some of these he was feeling now: the loss of coordination, the muscle fatigue and so on he knew were due to his MS , but somehow, by not talking about it, he could still carry on as if none of the rest of it was going to happen to him.
‘Sam?’ Crosby b r ought him back to the room . ‘Will it take long to get better?’
Sam sighed . ‘ I t’s not going to get better , Brian, MS is a permanent thing. I’ve got some leaflets about it in my locker, you can read them if you like. ’
‘Right, I will. Look , Sam,’ he hesitated, ‘we’re worried you’re going to do yourself harm or put other people in danger.’
Sam went cold.
‘We need someone to join the fire prevention team and I thought of you. You’re good with the public.’ He said it as if ‘ the public ’ had a capital ‘P’.
‘Going round people’s houses and checking their toasters aren’t going to spark , you mean?’
‘Not just that Sam, it’s a vital role. Checking and installing alarms, looking for fire hazards. So many fires could be avoided in the first place. You’d be saving more lives than you are now and you wouldn’t have to pull any dead babies out of a blaze.’
‘Right then , ok ay .’
‘I mean it , Sam, it’s a very rewarding thing to do. Go and have a cup of tea and think it over then we’ll talk business.’
‘Right, well , thanks.’
‘And get me those leaflets.’
*
As soon as Sam pulled up outside their terraced house , knowing that he couldn’t put off telling Kim any longer, she ran out of the door waving a letter.
‘Sam, you’re not going to believe this!’
‘What?’ he asked dutifully.
‘Uncle Julian has left me £50,000!’
He noted the ‘me’ instead of ‘us’.
‘It means I can get an au pair to look after Ollie for me.’
‘An au pair?’
‘I found one online already. She’s a German girl called Greta and the agency have forwarded my details to her to check she’d like the job. I picked the cutest photo of Ollie wearing his teddy – bear suit looking like a cherub, you’d never guess what a terror he can be.’
Sam wasn’t going to argue . I t w as her money and an extra pair of hands around the house would definitely make things easier.
‘That’s great,’ he said, wondering how on e arth he was going to tell her now. On second thoughts, was now the perfect time, when she was so fired up about the money?
He put his arm round her minuscule waist , but she pulled away slightly in a move that was so subtle it was barely noticeable ; but Sam felt it. He knew how easily she used to sink into his embrace and it made him swallow his words again.
They went indoors and Sam went up to see Ollie , who was sleeping peacefully in his cot . He stood there calming himself for a while, gently stroking Ollie’s rosy cheek and trying to absorb some of his strife-free slumber. His head was spinning. He needed someone to talk to but Kim had never been that person. She seemed unable to allow life to be anything other than handbags and glad rags.
With heavy heart, he went to find Kim, resolved to tell her. She was on the phone but hung up as soon as he entered the room. He’d noticed her doing this more frequently recently.
‘Is he still asleep?’ she asked, sounding slightly breathless and looking flushed.
‘Yes, away with the fairies.’
‘That’s good.’
There was an awkwardness he never used to feel. Was she seeing someone else?
‘Look , Kim, I need to tell you something.’ He sat next to her on the sofa.
‘Are you seeing someone else , Sam?’
‘Me?! God no , Kim! Why do you say that?’
‘I don’t feel like this is working out any more.’
Sam just looked at her.
‘Plus, you keep looking at me like that.’
‘How do I look at you?’
‘Like I disappoint you. I haven’t changed , Sam, you have, you just seem so serious recently, so, well, dull . ’
‘That word again.’ He swallowed. To be honest, he’d seen this coming a long time now . If Kim was seeing someone else, it would be just like her to hope that Sam was so that she wouldn’t have to be the culpable one. He wasn’t going to ask now – it was unlikely he’d get the truth anyway. Whether Kim realised it or not, she was a game-player.
‘So you’re saying you want a break?’ he asked instead.
‘I’m saying I’m not sure how I feel about you any more. You’ve changed , Sam. You used to be such a charmer, so much fun, my friends all envied me.’
‘And now?’
‘Now, they think I’m trapped, they feel sorry for me.’
‘It’s called growing up , Kim.’
‘It’s called becoming boring . Who wants to be old? Now I’ve got this money, I don’t have to be trapped any more.’
‘ I can’t believe this conversation. It feels like déjà vu.’ Sam got up.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out. I need to get my head round what you’re saying. There’s a lot I need to get my head round.’
‘Go then.’
As he reached the door, she seemed to remember that he’d wanted to tell her something. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’
‘Forget it, it’s not important.’ He couldn’t bear to tell her now, couldn’t bear to see her grappling to deal with it. His fear was that she wouldn’t even try to deal with it.
Sam felt that everything was spinning out of control. Surely it wasn’t possible for his world to shatter any further?
Chapter 10
Beth, Saturday Afternoon
At two on the dot, Beth pulled up outside Paula’s. She was feeling nervous, unsure she’d done the right thing in agreeing to this job. Paula had said they could give it a few weeks ’ trial period, which she claimed was for both herself and Beth , but Beth had the feeling that she would be the one under scrutiny.
She sat in the car for a while, and cleared sweet wrappers off the passenger seat. Paula’s house was a modern detached, not cheap round here. Her partner Donna’s car wasn’t in the driveway ; she coached a football team , Beth knew, so was sure to be at a match this afternoon.
Already a bit late, she forced herself out and walked over the gravel forecourt to the house. She knew it quite well from when Paula had been her BSL teacher and run classes from a room she’d converted for the purpose. There was no sound when she rang the bell but she knew that Paula would have her pager on. She had a wristband that vibrated and flashed to tell her when the doorbell was ringing.
Beth heard barking from Paula’s dog , Barn e y, and the faint clump-clump of someone coming slowly down the stairs.
At last, the door opened.
Hello, signed Paula. How are you?
They hugged slightly awkwardly. Beth wasn’t sure if she should do this, but Paula opened her arms to her.
Sorry I’m a bit late. What’s the plan for today? Beth signed, making sure that she was visible in Paula’s limited field of vision.
I need to go shopping, I’ve got a jumper to take back to Fornby’s.
Sounds good. Drive or bus?
Let ’ s go in the car . I’ll get Barn e y.
Barn e y was a chocolate lab assistance dog, trained not only as a guide dog but a hearing dog too. He was the calmest, wisest dog that Beth had ever met , and vital to Paula.
*
When they got into town, Beth found a parking place on some double yellow lines , thanks to Paula’s blue parking badge. They got everything out of the car, put Barn e y’s assistance dog coat on , and headed straight for Fornby’s, an old-fashioned store hanging on in a row of UK-wide ubiquitous high-street chains.
The lady behind the returns desk was in her fifties , with shoulder – length grey hair and an elegant black – and – grey – striped silk scarf tied over her obligatory black skirt suit.
‘Good afternoon, how can I help you?’ she enquired, looking at Beth.
‘Paula is the customer today , ’ Beth said curtly, already feeling some of Paula’s frustration at always being bypassed.
How can she help? She signed to Paula .
Paula pulled a soft chenille jumper from her Fornby’s bag.
This is too small. I want my money back , she signed, looking at the woman, who looked at Beth with a hint of pity in her eyes.
‘She says, the jumper’s too small, can she have a refund?’
‘We don’t do refunds unless the garment is faulty, but I will gladly change it for a larger size.’
Beth signed this to Paula.
I don’t want another one, just the money back.
‘She says she doesn’t want a replacement, but would like a refund.’
‘I’m sorry but we don’t do refunds,’ she repeated . ‘I could give her a voucher to choose a similar – priced garment another time.’
Beth signed this to Paula, nodding her head in an attempt to tell her that this was a good deal but Paula signed:
I want the money back.
‘She says could she have it refunded?’ Beth felt flustered but remembered something she’d been taught on the Usher syndrome awareness course that Paula had sent her on: a person guiding a deaf- blind adult was a conduit, that’s the word they’d used – it meant being someone’s eyes and ears and helping with communication but not, definitely not, taking over decisions or talking for them. Paula was a grown woman and Beth was not here to judge or decide what she should say.
‘I’m sorry, but that’s not our policy.’
Beth signed to Paula, holding her breath. Paula signed back :
But I’m deaf-blind .
Beth felt hot now, awkward. ‘She says she’d like the money back because she is deaf-blind.’ She could feel herself blushing involuntarily and took care to make it plain that it was Paula saying this , not her. If Paula chose not to explain why a deaf-blind person may find it harder to shop for the right size then she wasn’t going to say it for her.
The lady behind the counter was by now looking flustered and angry too . Possibly , just to make things easier, she took the decision to give Paula her refund. Paula accepted it with barely a smile and took Beth’s arm as she turned to walk away.
Coffee? Beth asked her hopefully.
Yes please .
As on previous occasions when they’d met for social coffees , Beth and Paula headed for Luigi’s – officially called The Perfect Shot, but known by all as Luigi’s after its flamboyant Italian owner.
‘Ah, here they are!’ he beamed , as i f he’d been waiting for them all day. ‘Two cappuccinos and a chocolate brownie to share, yes?’
Beth was impressed; that was what they’d had last time. She gently tapped Paula’s arm so that she would look up , and Luigi moved into her sight line.
Good afternoon , he signed , in the way that Paula had taught him .
Good afternoon , Paula smiled. Beth knew that it made a great difference to Paula when people learned just a few signs, and she always tried to explain to people she met regularly the best way for them to communicate. Luigi was a natural, with none of the awkwardness that people often seemed to have around Paula.
‘Are you nervous , maestro?’ Tom asked, digging her in the ribs.
‘Yes! I feel like everyone is going to be a hundred times better than me. They probably all have grade 8 and will be on BBC Young M usician of the Y ear 1992.’
‘Your teacher wouldn’t have entered you if she didn’t think you had a chance,’ M um said sensibly, reaching out a nd taking Beth’s hand.
‘Exactly, the teacher would know that this competition only attracts rubbish pianists like Beth.’
‘Tom! I’ve always hated you!’
‘Now now,children, play nicely.’ Dad grabbed Beth, pinning her arms to her sides.‘Just ignore him,Beth, he’s only jealous.’
Tom grunted and M um got up . ‘Let’s go and find our seats , ’ she said , and they trooped behind her , as they always seemed to do. Dad sometimes called her ‘Mother Duck’.
The cavernous church was cold and there was only a smattering of people in the front four pews. Beth’s family sat in the second row and looked keenly at the programme.
‘Arghh, I’m first to go!’ Beth said rather too loudly, sending echoes bouncing around the walls. She wished she’d been to the loo after that tea, but it was too late now.
‘You’ll be great and at least you can get it over with and relax. Remember , we have a surprise planned for later.’ Mum squeezed her hand again reassuringly.
Beth’s stomach was churning. She looked up at the beautiful stained – glass window behind the alt a r and said a little prayer to a God she was dubious about.
An old man in a brown suit came to the platform to welcome everyone and then read out her name, looking round to see which of the nervous – looking young people was Beth.
Mum squeezed her arm and gently pushed her out of the pew. She felt herself shaking slightly as she went to sit at the piano and paused before she began to play, temporarily forgetting every note of the music. Once she started to play, she felt alright, concentrating on her fingers. Despite her family’s admiration, she knew that she was no prodigy, never destined to be a concert musician. This was a grade 6 piece although she only had 5,really. She played okay. At least she got all the notes right and didn’t miss any keys.
She sat down next to the beaming row of her three favourite people, feeling exhausted. Listening to the others play, some of them made such sonorous music that she knew she wasn’t going to get any prizes.
When the pianists had all performed , the old man got back on the platform to announce the results. Beth was no longer nervous and nor did she really care what he said.
Beth was seventh out of eight competitors . S he just felt relieved it was all over.
‘Well done , love, you did it!’
‘Our little star,’ D ad said , looking very proud.
‘You managed not to be last!’ was Tom’s offering.
‘So what’s the surprise?’ Beth had been waiting all day.
‘First, we are going for tea at Hendon’s and then we are doing something else.’
‘Hendon’s hotel?! Wow, how posh! What is “something else”?’
‘Wait and see.’
‘Oh M u-um.’
*
After a tea of crumpets , and more cakes than even Tom could eat, D ad put a blindfold over Beth’s eyes and took her arm. They walked for what felt like a couple of streets, giggling when Beth tripped on the pavement.
‘Ta-dah!’ exclaimed D ad, throwing off the blindfold.
Beth looked up . T hey were outside a huge concert hall, facing a poster announcing a performance of Rachmaninoff’s Piano C oncerto N umber 2.
‘No way! My favourite – ever piece of music!’
Everyone was grinning.
‘We were so lucky with it being on today and we got great seats!’
Beth went to hug first M um and then D ad , before grabbing Tom’s arm and pulling him toward the building. She would remember this day forever.
Chapter 9
Sam, 2007
‘You wanted to see me?’ Sam said to Brian Crosby , his supervisor , as he knocked on his open door.
‘Ah , Sam , yes, come in , come in. Take a seat.’
Sam sat on the proffered chair, holding his breath in an irrational attempt to prevent Crosby from speaking further.
‘Can Sharon get you tea? Coffee? Water?’
‘No, nothing for me thanks.’ He was just waiting for the words he’d been expecting for the last few months. Words which seemed more inevitable after the diagnosis last month, even though nobody at work knew about that yet.
‘Well , Sam, I won’t beat around the bush but it ’ s hard for me to know how to put this.’
Here it comes, Sam thought.
‘You are a good worker , Sam , and people here seem to really like you. I used to get requests for you to be part of a particular team.’
‘You used to, right.’
‘In the last few months , though, I’ve had one or two reports that you seem to be struggling a bit.’ Crosby looked at Sam, waiting for an explanation but he wasn’t ready to give one yet.
‘So, are you struggling , Sam? I understand you and your wife had a baby not long ago? Is it that? Sleepless nights?’
Sam breathed in and out before he spoke . ‘Kim’s not my wife but yes, we have a baby. He’s over a year old now.’
‘Ah, wearing you out is he?’
‘Erm…’ Sam just wanted him to say it . ‘Do you need to let me go or…?’
‘Let you go?! No , Sam , but I need to know what’s going on and why your performance is flagging. Once I know that, we can see what we can do. If it’s the baby, everything will get back to normal soon, once he gets into his routines.’
‘Erm, well’, Sam rubbed his temples before continuing : he knew he had to come out and say it, ‘I’ve got m ultiple s clerosis.’
There w as a pause, like Crosby wasn’t sure what to say.
‘You might know it just as MS.’
‘I’ve heard of it . S o how long will it be before you’re better?’
Sam felt odd now that he’d said it. For the past three or four weeks , since the diagnosis , he hadn’t told a soul, not even Kim. He found that if he didn’t tell anyone, he didn’t have to deal with it because it wasn’t an issue in his life. The problem was that it was an issue and it was affecting him.
He had skimmed over the leaflets from the doctor, seeing words like progressive and lifelong , with lists of possible symptoms like vision problems, mobility difficulties, loss of bladder control, muscle spasms , not to mention reduced life expectancy.
Granted , some of these he was feeling now: the loss of coordination, the muscle fatigue and so on he knew were due to his MS , but somehow, by not talking about it, he could still carry on as if none of the rest of it was going to happen to him.
‘Sam?’ Crosby b r ought him back to the room . ‘Will it take long to get better?’
Sam sighed . ‘ I t’s not going to get better , Brian, MS is a permanent thing. I’ve got some leaflets about it in my locker, you can read them if you like. ’
‘Right, I will. Look , Sam,’ he hesitated, ‘we’re worried you’re going to do yourself harm or put other people in danger.’
Sam went cold.
‘We need someone to join the fire prevention team and I thought of you. You’re good with the public.’ He said it as if ‘ the public ’ had a capital ‘P’.
‘Going round people’s houses and checking their toasters aren’t going to spark , you mean?’
‘Not just that Sam, it’s a vital role. Checking and installing alarms, looking for fire hazards. So many fires could be avoided in the first place. You’d be saving more lives than you are now and you wouldn’t have to pull any dead babies out of a blaze.’
‘Right then , ok ay .’
‘I mean it , Sam, it’s a very rewarding thing to do. Go and have a cup of tea and think it over then we’ll talk business.’
‘Right, well , thanks.’
‘And get me those leaflets.’
*
As soon as Sam pulled up outside their terraced house , knowing that he couldn’t put off telling Kim any longer, she ran out of the door waving a letter.
‘Sam, you’re not going to believe this!’
‘What?’ he asked dutifully.
‘Uncle Julian has left me £50,000!’
He noted the ‘me’ instead of ‘us’.
‘It means I can get an au pair to look after Ollie for me.’
‘An au pair?’
‘I found one online already. She’s a German girl called Greta and the agency have forwarded my details to her to check she’d like the job. I picked the cutest photo of Ollie wearing his teddy – bear suit looking like a cherub, you’d never guess what a terror he can be.’
Sam wasn’t going to argue . I t w as her money and an extra pair of hands around the house would definitely make things easier.
‘That’s great,’ he said, wondering how on e arth he was going to tell her now. On second thoughts, was now the perfect time, when she was so fired up about the money?
He put his arm round her minuscule waist , but she pulled away slightly in a move that was so subtle it was barely noticeable ; but Sam felt it. He knew how easily she used to sink into his embrace and it made him swallow his words again.
They went indoors and Sam went up to see Ollie , who was sleeping peacefully in his cot . He stood there calming himself for a while, gently stroking Ollie’s rosy cheek and trying to absorb some of his strife-free slumber. His head was spinning. He needed someone to talk to but Kim had never been that person. She seemed unable to allow life to be anything other than handbags and glad rags.
With heavy heart, he went to find Kim, resolved to tell her. She was on the phone but hung up as soon as he entered the room. He’d noticed her doing this more frequently recently.
‘Is he still asleep?’ she asked, sounding slightly breathless and looking flushed.
‘Yes, away with the fairies.’
‘That’s good.’
There was an awkwardness he never used to feel. Was she seeing someone else?
‘Look , Kim, I need to tell you something.’ He sat next to her on the sofa.
‘Are you seeing someone else , Sam?’
‘Me?! God no , Kim! Why do you say that?’
‘I don’t feel like this is working out any more.’
Sam just looked at her.
‘Plus, you keep looking at me like that.’
‘How do I look at you?’
‘Like I disappoint you. I haven’t changed , Sam, you have, you just seem so serious recently, so, well, dull . ’
‘That word again.’ He swallowed. To be honest, he’d seen this coming a long time now . If Kim was seeing someone else, it would be just like her to hope that Sam was so that she wouldn’t have to be the culpable one. He wasn’t going to ask now – it was unlikely he’d get the truth anyway. Whether Kim realised it or not, she was a game-player.
‘So you’re saying you want a break?’ he asked instead.
‘I’m saying I’m not sure how I feel about you any more. You’ve changed , Sam. You used to be such a charmer, so much fun, my friends all envied me.’
‘And now?’
‘Now, they think I’m trapped, they feel sorry for me.’
‘It’s called growing up , Kim.’
‘It’s called becoming boring . Who wants to be old? Now I’ve got this money, I don’t have to be trapped any more.’
‘ I can’t believe this conversation. It feels like déjà vu.’ Sam got up.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out. I need to get my head round what you’re saying. There’s a lot I need to get my head round.’
‘Go then.’
As he reached the door, she seemed to remember that he’d wanted to tell her something. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’
‘Forget it, it’s not important.’ He couldn’t bear to tell her now, couldn’t bear to see her grappling to deal with it. His fear was that she wouldn’t even try to deal with it.
Sam felt that everything was spinning out of control. Surely it wasn’t possible for his world to shatter any further?
Chapter 10
Beth, Saturday Afternoon
At two on the dot, Beth pulled up outside Paula’s. She was feeling nervous, unsure she’d done the right thing in agreeing to this job. Paula had said they could give it a few weeks ’ trial period, which she claimed was for both herself and Beth , but Beth had the feeling that she would be the one under scrutiny.
She sat in the car for a while, and cleared sweet wrappers off the passenger seat. Paula’s house was a modern detached, not cheap round here. Her partner Donna’s car wasn’t in the driveway ; she coached a football team , Beth knew, so was sure to be at a match this afternoon.
Already a bit late, she forced herself out and walked over the gravel forecourt to the house. She knew it quite well from when Paula had been her BSL teacher and run classes from a room she’d converted for the purpose. There was no sound when she rang the bell but she knew that Paula would have her pager on. She had a wristband that vibrated and flashed to tell her when the doorbell was ringing.
Beth heard barking from Paula’s dog , Barn e y, and the faint clump-clump of someone coming slowly down the stairs.
At last, the door opened.
Hello, signed Paula. How are you?
They hugged slightly awkwardly. Beth wasn’t sure if she should do this, but Paula opened her arms to her.
Sorry I’m a bit late. What’s the plan for today? Beth signed, making sure that she was visible in Paula’s limited field of vision.
I need to go shopping, I’ve got a jumper to take back to Fornby’s.
Sounds good. Drive or bus?
Let ’ s go in the car . I’ll get Barn e y.
Barn e y was a chocolate lab assistance dog, trained not only as a guide dog but a hearing dog too. He was the calmest, wisest dog that Beth had ever met , and vital to Paula.
*
When they got into town, Beth found a parking place on some double yellow lines , thanks to Paula’s blue parking badge. They got everything out of the car, put Barn e y’s assistance dog coat on , and headed straight for Fornby’s, an old-fashioned store hanging on in a row of UK-wide ubiquitous high-street chains.
The lady behind the returns desk was in her fifties , with shoulder – length grey hair and an elegant black – and – grey – striped silk scarf tied over her obligatory black skirt suit.
‘Good afternoon, how can I help you?’ she enquired, looking at Beth.
‘Paula is the customer today , ’ Beth said curtly, already feeling some of Paula’s frustration at always being bypassed.
How can she help? She signed to Paula .
Paula pulled a soft chenille jumper from her Fornby’s bag.
This is too small. I want my money back , she signed, looking at the woman, who looked at Beth with a hint of pity in her eyes.
‘She says, the jumper’s too small, can she have a refund?’
‘We don’t do refunds unless the garment is faulty, but I will gladly change it for a larger size.’
Beth signed this to Paula.
I don’t want another one, just the money back.
‘She says she doesn’t want a replacement, but would like a refund.’
‘I’m sorry but we don’t do refunds,’ she repeated . ‘I could give her a voucher to choose a similar – priced garment another time.’
Beth signed this to Paula, nodding her head in an attempt to tell her that this was a good deal but Paula signed:
I want the money back.
‘She says could she have it refunded?’ Beth felt flustered but remembered something she’d been taught on the Usher syndrome awareness course that Paula had sent her on: a person guiding a deaf- blind adult was a conduit, that’s the word they’d used – it meant being someone’s eyes and ears and helping with communication but not, definitely not, taking over decisions or talking for them. Paula was a grown woman and Beth was not here to judge or decide what she should say.
‘I’m sorry, but that’s not our policy.’
Beth signed to Paula, holding her breath. Paula signed back :
But I’m deaf-blind .
Beth felt hot now, awkward. ‘She says she’d like the money back because she is deaf-blind.’ She could feel herself blushing involuntarily and took care to make it plain that it was Paula saying this , not her. If Paula chose not to explain why a deaf-blind person may find it harder to shop for the right size then she wasn’t going to say it for her.
The lady behind the counter was by now looking flustered and angry too . Possibly , just to make things easier, she took the decision to give Paula her refund. Paula accepted it with barely a smile and took Beth’s arm as she turned to walk away.
Coffee? Beth asked her hopefully.
Yes please .
As on previous occasions when they’d met for social coffees , Beth and Paula headed for Luigi’s – officially called The Perfect Shot, but known by all as Luigi’s after its flamboyant Italian owner.
‘Ah, here they are!’ he beamed , as i f he’d been waiting for them all day. ‘Two cappuccinos and a chocolate brownie to share, yes?’
Beth was impressed; that was what they’d had last time. She gently tapped Paula’s arm so that she would look up , and Luigi moved into her sight line.
Good afternoon , he signed , in the way that Paula had taught him .
Good afternoon , Paula smiled. Beth knew that it made a great difference to Paula when people learned just a few signs, and she always tried to explain to people she met regularly the best way for them to communicate. Luigi was a natural, with none of the awkwardness that people often seemed to have around Paula.
