Christmas Wishes (13 page)

‘Oh, shut up!’ Gillian said sharply. ‘Just be thankful that you won’t be scarred for life or anything like that. And let me tell you that someone who didn’t know about the accident couldn’t possibly tell from looking at you that you can’t see; not if you wore your dark spectacles, that is.’

The spectacles were another sore point. Joy hated them, could not see the point of wearing them when they could not make her sightless eyes see, and now she said as much.

Gillian turned to Colin. ‘You aren’t wearing glasses at the moment, but do you do so sometimes? I know you use your white stick, and now that you’ve shown us how useful it can be perhaps Joy will start using hers. Spectacles are different, though.
Do
you wear them?’

‘No,’ Colin admitted after the briefest of pauses. ‘But if you don’t want people to look at your eyes, specs are the answer.’ He put his hand on Joy’s arm, then slid his fingers down until he could grasp her wrist. ‘Why do you fight everything, even things that will help you?’ he asked gently. ‘Perhaps I was luckier than I realised when my parents sent me to the LSB. I didn’t know a soul there, not one single soul, and I wasn’t quite eight years old. I couldn’t afford to refuse any help that was offered, any friendship even. I grasped at everything, and now that I look back I can see that the other children taught me as much as or more than the teachers. All the little tricks that I use as a matter of course I learned from Freddy, Sam and Phil – they were my particular friends – but of course when you’re all in the same boat, everyone helps everyone else.’

Joy heaved a sigh. ‘It sounds a lot too perfect to me,’ she announced. ‘Just because you were all blind, surely that was no reason to be pals?’

Colin chuckled. ‘You’re right, of course. Once I got settled in, I made enemies as well as friends; well, not exactly enemies, but there were a couple of boys who would deliberately move a chair in the classroom, or make me an apple pie bed, or tell the teacher that it was I who had pushed a smaller boy aside in the dinner queue. But it was no worse than being a new boy in an ordinary school and we soon settled down. Indeed, the boys who began by teasing me quickly discovered that two could play at that game. I would hear the scrape of a chair being moved into my path and avoid it, then get my own back some other way. I became one of the best listeners in the school, though we were all pretty good.’

‘Well, it doesn’t sound as bad as I thought it would be,’ Joy said grudgingly. ‘It’s rather like Angela Brazil –
The Naughtiest Girl in the School
– you know, boarding school japes and all that. But japes or not, I won’t leave my home and my twin.’ She sighed. ‘Talking of Angela Brazil makes me remember that I miss reading more than anything.’

Colin had finished his scone as she spoke and picked up one of the ginger biscuits, holding it beneath his nose and sniffing before taking a bite. ‘Yummy! If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m in luck.’ He turned his attention from the food to Joy once more. ‘What a little goose you are! Have you never heard of the Talking Books Service? You have to have a note from your doctor, but once you are a member the books – which are records really, of course – come free through the post and can be enjoyed by the whole family.’

‘Oh,’ Gillian said, entranced at the thought of having a book read to her whilst she worked and hoping that Colin had not noticed her sister’s lack of response. ‘I listen to the wireless now when I’m ironing, or washing up, but we don’t have a gramophone.’

‘They lend you one; you can keep it for as long as you need it,’ Colin said cheerfully. He bit into the biscuit. ‘Yes, it
is
ginger – my favourite.’

This made Gillian remember something which had puzzled her before. ‘Colin, earlier you said you could smell scones and ginger biscuits. I’ve been sniffing ever since and I can only smell them when I hold them under my nose. Is there something wrong with
my
sense of smell?’

She sounded so worried that Colin laughed. ‘Oh dear, you’ve found me out! Your father asked my brother whether I liked scones and ginger biscuits, because he had asked a neighbour to do some cooking for him. I thought the neighbour would probably do a bake in your kitchen and I wanted to impress you.’ He pretended to hit his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘Exposed as a liar and a cheat,’ he said mournfully. ‘Will you ever forgive me, girls? But I meant it for the best. Normally I would have realised at once that there was no smell of baking, but I was so keen to get on good terms with the pair of you that I spoke without thinking.’

‘Without sniffing, you mean,’ Gillian said, giggling. ‘Well, we’ll forgive you for pretending to smell baking since you’ve told us how to get hold of these talking books. Have you any more tips which would help Joy to become more independent?’

Joy made a hasty movement and took a breath as though about to speak, but then closed her mouth without uttering a word. Gillian looked thoughtfully at her twin and knew, with a stab of real disappointment, just what was going through her mind. Joy did not want to become independent. Not unnaturally, she was afraid of the big dark world which now surrounded her and had come to rely on having, so to speak, her own personal interpreter, who told her everything that was going on. She would pretend to take on board all that Colin was offering, but would obstinately refuse to act on his advice. She would continue to cling to her twin, making excuses which Gillian and Alex would find hard, if not impossible, to refute. Gillian looked across at Colin; had he guessed what Joy had been about to say? If so, he chose to ignore it.

‘I think I’ve said enough to give you both food for thought,’ he said. He turned towards where he knew Joy was sitting. ‘At first I thought you were lucky to have your twin to help, but I’m not sure if that’s really so. Perhaps being alone sharpens one’s senses, makes one both warier and, in the end, more self-confident.’ He picked up his mug and drained it, then stood up, pushing back his chair and setting his mug down on the table. It was so near the edge that Gillian reached across to pull it to safety, but Colin was clearly aware of the danger. He slid his hand along the table, pushed the mug towards the centre and turned to the back door. When he reached it, which he did in a couple of strides, he picked up his stick, which he had leaned against the wall, and turned back to the girls. ‘Thank you for a delicious tea; I hope I’ve been of some use,’ he said, with his hand on the latch. ‘If you would like me to pop in now and then to see whether you’ve come across any problem which I might be able to solve, just send me a message. I’m going round to the fire station now to meet Jerome so we can walk home together. Is there anything you would like me to say to your father?’

‘Tell him I’m getting fish and chips for supper,’ Gillian said hastily. ‘And if you could spare the time to pop in now and then, I’m sure we would both appreciate it, wouldn’t we, Joy?’

Joy muttered something beneath her breath which both Gillian and Colin chose to ignore. Colin had begun to open the door and winced as the draught cut through the gap. ‘Thanks again, girls!’ he said. ‘And don’t forget, if you want to get in touch with me, get your dad to speak to Jerome; he’ll pass the message on.’

‘Thank
you
,’ Gillian said gratefully, and was ashamed when Joy said nothing. As soon as the door closed behind their visitor, she turned a reproachful gaze on her sister, knowing she could not see it but also knowing that her disapproval would be reaching her twin in positive waves. ‘Joy, how could you be so bleedin’ rude and ungrateful?’ she said angrily. ‘That poor feller came round to do what he could to help, and …’

‘You thanked him,’ Joy said sulkily. ‘And I don’t want him to come round here interfering. I didn’t like it when he said I’d do better on me own. He doesn’t understand how lost I should be without you.’

‘That’s the whole trouble; he
does
understand, and you don’t like it,’ Gillian said, though when she saw the expression on her twin’s small, pale face it was all she could do not to fling her arms round her and promise to stay with her for ever. ‘Daddy and I have been worried that you were beginning to rely on either me or him for everything, and from what Colin said we were right to be anxious. Darling Joy, we only want to do what’s best for you. So why not accept the help Colin was offering with a good grace?’

Joy sighed. ‘I’m already learning the way to school, but it will probably take me months and months,’ she said, her voice quavering pathetically. ‘But I suppose I’ll have to use that bloody stick and wear those damned spectacles, though I don’t see— Hey, be careful, you nearly knocked me over!’

‘Sorry,’ Gillian apologised, for her violent hug had indeed caused her sister to sway perilously. ‘It’s just so good to hear you saying you’ll use the stick and wear your specs! Both these things are a step forward, because once folk know you can’t see they’ll be really eager to help. Wait until I tell Daddy you’ve agreed to use your stick!’

‘Well, how did it go?’ Alex asked hopefully, when Jerome had performed the introductions and left Colin in the small office where Alex was doing his paperwork. He was not sorry to be interrupted; he was responsible not only for writing reports on the fires Blue Watch had attended but also for planning duty rotas for the coming week, a task hated by all sub-officers. ‘I bet Joy was pleased to be able to talk to someone who shared her problems, wasn’t she?’

Colin looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t want to tell tales out of school …’ He hesitated, and Alex sighed.

‘Oh, no. Gillian said Joy would resent anything which parted the pair of them, and I suppose she was right. Go on, what happened?’

Colin gave a brief résumé of his visit, assuring Alex that he had been warmly received by Gillian but not hiding the fact that he believed Joy had resented what she no doubt considered to be his interference. ‘She’s frightened, that’s the truth, and no one can blame her for that,’ he said. ‘But tell me, Mr Lawrence, what were they like before the accident, your daughters? I bet Gillian led, but did Joy just meekly follow? Although you say they are identical to look at, they seem to have very different personalities.’

‘You’re right. They looked identical, but inside their heads they are – were – quite different. And I think they are still, though Joy doesn’t laugh like she did before, or joke, or tell funny stories. I think she’s still too shocked and hurt to be her natural, loving self. But surely she’ll grow accustomed and become the old Joy once more, don’t you think?’

‘Time will tell,’ Colin said guardedly. ‘It’s a hard thing to lose one’s sight, but I’ve come to terms with it. We must hope that Joy will do the same.’

Alex looked hopefully at his visitor, reflecting that there was no clue in the bright, intelligent face that the blue eyes were sightless. He had to keep reminding himself that this chap could see no more than Joy could. He said as much, but Colin shook his head. ‘No, that’s not quite true. I can tell day from night, though only just. Nothing more than that, but it’s a great deal better than total sightlessness. I said nothing about it to Joy – she was resentful enough as it was – but I’m aware I’m one of the lucky ones.’

Alex tried to imagine a world in which the only difference was darkness or light, and failed dismally. He looked with deep respect at his companion, then remembered that to Colin a facial expression meant nothing. ‘I shouldn’t have thought you lucky, exactly,’ he said mildly. ‘You don’t seem much better off than my little Joy …’

He was interrupted. ‘How can you possibly think that?’ the young man said incredulously. ‘You have to use some imagination, Mr Lawrence; close your eyes and see blackness, nothing but blackness. Then, very slowly, let the blackness become less dense, turn to charcoal grey, with a – oh, a sort of fluttering at the edges. Not light, as such, but a lighter darkness. And you know the night’s over and the day’s begun.’

Alex was silent for a long moment whilst his mind grappled with the effort of making himself see what his companion had described, then he shook his head and gave up. ‘I accept what you say; you are lucky compared with someone who is totally without sight. But I couldn’t imagine what it’s like, hard though I tried.’ He paused, and then said bluntly, ‘Tell me, how did you get on with Joy?’

Colin sighed. ‘Not well. She doesn’t want to be helped if it means separation from her twin, but if you ask me, Mr Lawrence, it’s a good thing that Gillian means to take up that scholarship to St Hilda’s. For one thing, it’s only fair; she’s clearly a very intelligent girl and deserves a chance. And for another, leaning on her sister the way she does will quickly ruin Joy’s chance of becoming an independent person. Why, she whines like a baby if she sees she isn’t going to get her own way, and though the humour is still there, lurking, she pushes it down pretty quickly if it looks as though her prop – that is, her twin – is going to move back a pace or two. For her sake even more than Gillian’s, therefore, the two should be separated. Mind, I’m no expert; it’s only my opinion.’

‘I think you’re probably right, but just to be on the safe side I’ll have a word with her teachers, and perhaps with the doctors who looked after her in hospital,’ Alex said, feeling rather guilty. He had asked for Colin’s opinion, and announcing that he was going to put the same question to others seemed the height of ingratitude, but to his relief Colin did not seem to see it that way.

‘Good; then neither Gillian nor Joy will blame me if you go ahead and separate them, at least during school hours,’ the young man said, getting to his feet. ‘I hear Jerome coming to pick me up.’ He held out a hand, which Alex shook, just as the door to the small office opened and Jerome entered the room. ‘I’ve offered to pop in from time to time, to see if I can help Joy with any problems that might arise,’ Colin said. ‘But I shan’t do so; not unless they send me a message by yourself or Jerome.’ He laughed and turned to where his brother stood in the doorway. ‘Gillian’s getting fish and chips for supper; shall you and I do likewise, Jer?’

Towards the end of the Easter holidays, when the weather had greatly improved and the bulbs in the local gardens were in bright bloom, Alex managed to get Gillian alone, not always an easy task. On this occasion, however, Joy was at home listening to the wireless whilst Gillian was trying to buy soft fruit to stew, so when Alex, who was on day shift in the yard supervising Blue Watch’s drill, saw her outside the greengrocer’s shop, he came across to join her. He told her that everyone he had consulted, from the hospital doctors down to the teaching staff at Bold Street, had said that Joy would never learn independence whilst she had her twin at her beck and call. ‘Gillian’s like a little slave,’ old Mrs Lubbock next door had said rather disapprovingly, and even gentle Mrs Clarke had said she thought both girls would benefit from attending different schools and meeting different people. When Alex had asked Sister Ashley what she thought, her reply was unequivocal.