One Step at a Time (17 page)

‘Nothing, thanks.’

After instructing one of the women assistants to get the shoes, the manager stayed to talk, asking Ted how business was.

Ben scanned the shop looking for Amy, but there was no sign of her. ‘Haven’t you got a junior assistant called Amy Carter?

‘Not now, I’m afraid I had to sack her. Such a
shame, she was pleasant and good with the elderly customers. But I couldn’t keep her.’

Ted took the shoes from the assistant when she came back, put them on and walked up and down to see if they were comfortable.

Ben could hardly contain himself, but Ted was talking to the manager again and he couldn’t interrupt. She had lost her job. Why the hell hadn’t she told them?

‘Hmm, these feel fine. I’ll take them.’ Ted sat down, removed the shoes and put his own back on, returning to the subject of Amy. ‘If she was good with the customers why couldn’t you have kept her?’

‘She hadn’t been honest with me when I interviewed her. She was clever and fooled us for a week, but it didn’t take me long to realize there was something wrong with her.’

Ben couldn’t leave it to Ted’s casual approach any longer. What did he mean, there was something wrong with her? ‘Amy’s a friend of ours and there isn’t anything wrong with her.’

The man looked perplexed. ‘But you must know she can’t read or write properly.’

‘
What?
’ Both of them spoke at once, immediately on their feet in shock.

Ben felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. ‘You must be mistaken.’

The manager grimaced. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t know. I missed it myself at first. She was very inventive with her excuses.’

When Ted had paid for his shoes, they made their way back to the bookshop in stunned silence. Ted didn’t bother to put the ‘open’ sign back on the door as they both marched into the back room.

Ben paced the small space. ‘She was only there a week, so what on earth has she been doing since then? And why hasn’t she told us she can’t read? Why, Ted?’

‘She’s ashamed to tell us?’

‘Oh, but she needn’t feel like that.’ Ben ran his fingers through his hair, concern etched on his strong features. ‘We’re her friends.’

‘Will you stop walking up and down, Ben, you’re disturbing the dust.’ Ted took hold of his arm and pushed him into a chair. ‘I expect she’s had to suffer a lot of unkind remarks while she’s been growing up, and she might think we’ll do the same if we know.’

‘But we wouldn’t!’

‘No, but she doesn’t know that.’

Ben picked up a book from the table, flicked through it and tossed it back. ‘I wonder why she can’t read? She’s a bright girl.’

‘I can’t answer that, but while I was teaching I did come across a boy who had a problem reading. Like Amy, he wasn’t lacking in intelligence.’ Ted found a bottle of whisky in the cupboard and a couple of glasses. ‘Let’s have a drink and decide what to do. Amy needs help, but we’re going to have to be very careful because she’s guarding her secret well.’

‘What do you suggest?’ Ben was on his feet again.
‘We can’t just let her wander around day after day in the cold. And I believe that’s what she’s doing.’

‘She’s probably trying to find work, Ben. We can’t interfere, and until she tells us herself, there isn’t much we can do.’

Ben slumped back in his chair. ‘Mrs Dalton and Howard must be told.’

‘No!’ Ted’s expression was grim. ‘By all means tell Howard, but we must never let her know we have found out. Amy must go to Mrs Dalton herself.’

‘But will she?’

‘I believe she will, and let’s hope it’s soon.’ Ted held up the bottle. ‘I could do with a stiff drink. Do you want one?’

Ben held out one of the glasses. ‘Why not?’

After sitting in the dingy café in Fulham for an hour, Amy had made up her mind. She couldn’t go on like this. She was cold, hungry and very miserable. It was time to go to her ‘family’, confess all, and ask for their help. Her stomach heaved when she remembered the names she had been called at school. They echoed in her head: Barmy, stupid Amy, she can’t read! It would be impossible to bear it if Ben, Howard, Ted and Mrs Dalton thought that about her. But if they did she would have to face it even if it tore her apart. Which she knew it would, for she loved each one of them and cared so much what they thought of her. They were going to be
so
angry with her.

She left the café and found the bus stop she
needed, eager now to get the unpleasant task over with. Many things in her life had been hard to face, but she’d managed to get through them. This was just one more.

It was four o’clock when she reached home. Gritting her teeth she marched towards Mrs Dalton’s sitting room. She had been so kind; she must be told first. Amy choked back a sob, fighting for control. Mrs Dalton was going to be so disappointed to learn she had lost her job weeks ago.

The house was quiet. Grasping every bit of courage she could muster, she tapped on the door.

‘Come in.’

Turning the handle slowly she stepped inside.

‘Amy.’ Mrs Dalton put down the book she had been reading. ‘You’re early, dear.’

‘I need to talk to you, please.’ Her voice wavered.

‘Come and sit down. You look upset. Tell me what’s happened.’

Amy perched on the edge of an armchair and, taking a deep breath, told her about losing her job after only a week. ‘I should have told you before but I was hoping to find another job quickly. Only I haven’t been able to. I’m so sorry…’

‘You haven’t told me why they sacked you.’ Mrs Dalton’s voice was gentle.

Amy looked at her with tortured eyes, and she still hedged. ‘They said I was too slow.’

‘That’s hard to believe. Why were you slow?’

The truth couldn’t be avoided any longer, and Amy gazed down at her clasped hands. ‘I can’t read or write properly.’

‘I know that, my dear, but I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.’

‘You know?’ Amy’s head came up sharply.

‘Of course. When I agreed to take over your care I was told everything about you.’ She reached across and took hold of Amy’s hands. ‘You are a very brave girl and I’m proud of you.’

‘Proud?’ Amy stared in disbelief. ‘Do the others know?’

‘I haven’t told anyone, but’ – she gave Amy’s hands an encouraging squeeze – ‘I think it’s time you told them as well.’

‘Oh, no!’ She shuddered. ‘They’ll think I’m stupid. I’m not, Mrs Dalton. I’m not! I try very hard and practise almost every evening. I’m getting better; I can write some, and sign my name. Only I got flustered at the shop and when I do that everything gets muddled.’

‘No one in this house is going to think badly of you, Amy.’ Mrs Dalton stood up. ‘Let’s go to my kitchen, have tea, and then when the boys and Ted come home you can tell them. Don’t worry, my dear. All any of us want to do is help you through this difficult time.’

Amy stood up carefully, not sure her legs would support her. Mrs Dalton had known all along and didn’t think she was stupid. The relief was enormous
and she saw how silly she had been to hide the fact that she had lost her job. She would have told her mother, and Mrs Dalton had taken on that role. She wouldn’t hesitate to go to her in the future.

There were lovely fat scones, jam and a sponge cake, but until she had told the others, Amy didn’t think her insides would hold anything as substantial as this.

‘Just tea, please.’

‘I understand.’ Mrs Dalton smiled and poured them both a cup of tea. ‘We can eat these later.’

They talked quietly and Mrs Dalton listened as Amy told her about her search for work, her difficulties at school and how she longed to be able to read properly. For the first time since her father’s trial, Amy unburdened herself, and – also for the first time – she felt secure.

‘Right, I expect they’re all home now, so let’s go and tell them, shall we?’

Amy gulped hard, nodded, and followed Mrs Dalton along the passage to the kitchen she shared with Ted, and the boys haunted for food. She wasn’t looking forward to this one little bit, but it had to be done.

When they walked in, Ben, Howard and Ted were all there, cups of tea in front of them and looking serious.

‘Ah, good, you’re all here.’ Mrs Dalton put her arm around Amy’s shoulder. ‘We have something to tell you, haven’t we, dear?’

‘Umm, yes.’ She gazed down at her feet until Mrs Dalton squeezed her shoulder, making her lift her head and meet the eyes of the three men watching her. The words came out in a rush. ‘I lost my job weeks ago because I can’t read properly.’

Why were they smiling? Were they going to laugh at her? Oh no! She turned to run from the room but had only taken a couple of steps before she was swept off her feet by Ben and swung round.

‘You were too good for that job.’

Howard rubbed his hands together. ‘Good, I need lots more pots painted, and now you’ll have the time. They’ve sold all the others.’ He held out a pound note. ‘That’s your share.’

‘But, but… I can’t take your money.’

‘Yes you can, Amy. I’ll give you a quarter of everything we sell that you’ve painted. The cats are causing a lot of interest.’

Her fingers closed over the pound note just as Ted spoke. ‘And you can help me in the shop on Saturdays.’

Glancing in disbelief from one smiling face to the next, she struggled for words. Didn’t they understand? ‘But I can’t read.’

‘You don’t need to when you paint my pots, or sit for Ben, and all you’ve got to do is smile at Ted’s customers.’

‘And take their money,’ Ted pointed out.

‘Well I never!’

Howard roared. ‘I love the way you say that.’

‘I was so afraid to tell you in case you thought I was daft in the head.’ Amy was bubbling with relief. ‘I could hug you all for being so nice to me.’

‘What are you waiting for then?’ Ben held his arms wide.

When she ran into them he swung her round, whispering in her ear, ‘Don’t worry, Amy, everything’s going to be all right.’

When everyone in the room had received her thanks, Amy was quite flustered. The response was the opposite to what she had expected, but how wonderful it was, and she wanted to do something for them.

She rushed to look in the larder and saw that Mrs Dalton had put another bowl of eggs in there for them. ‘I’ll make you all scrambled eggs on toast, shall I?’

Every seat around the table was immediately filled, and even Mrs Dalton joined them. Amy was bursting with happiness as she set to work. They didn’t mind! They didn’t think she was stupid.

‘I’ve got some fresh-baked scones and jam we can have after.’

‘I love your scones, Mrs Dalton.’ Ben winked at Amy. ‘They’re almost as good as Amy’s scrambled eggs.’

While they were eating she was asked about her difficulty with words, and for the first time in her life she talked freely about it.

Ted was nodding as he listened, then pushed a
piece of paper and a pen in front of her. ‘Would you write something for me, Amy? Don’t worry about spelling, just a few sentences about Oscar, your room or how you like living here. Anything that comes into your head.’

She chewed her lip in concentration as she wrote slowly, crossing out a word every so often.

Looking very doubtful she pushed it across to Ted and watched anxiously as he read it.

‘This is very interesting. I’ve seen something like this before. I had a boy in my class who wrote in a similar way. He confused the B and D as well, often putting them in the wrong order, just like Amy.’

Was there someone else like her? Amy leant towards Ted to see what he was pointing out to the others, her embarrassment disappearing fast as she saw there was only interest on their faces: no ridicule.

‘She’s spelt some words phonetically,’ Howard said.

‘Yes.’ Ted nodded. ‘Clever, isn’t it?’

Clever? Amy was now kneeling on the chair. What were they talking about? She couldn’t contain herself any longer and the words tumbled out. ‘But it isn’t right, is it? And who’s this other person who wrote like me? I thought I was the only one. What was he like?’

‘He was a ten-year-old boy in my class and I noticed he was reluctant to hand in his homework. When he finally did, I saw something like this. The spelling was bad, but the work was brilliant. He was very intelligent.’

‘What happened to him?’ Amy couldn’t wait to hear about this.

‘He became a lawyer, and a very successful one.’

‘A lawyer?’ She almost fell off her chair. ‘But how could he do that?’

‘With a lot of hard work and determination. As he got older his reading and writing skills improved, and I worked with him until he was old enough to go to university.’

Amy’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Ted in amazement. ‘Could… could you help me?’

‘I’d like to see what we could do.’ He smiled with understanding in his gentle eyes.

‘I’m going to read!’ Her chair wobbled alarmingly as she wriggled with joy. ‘I want to read lots of books; write long, long letters…’

‘Whoa.’ Ted caught her chair to steady it. ‘Don’t get too excited. I’m sure we can improve your ability, but you should have had help a long time ago.’

Her spirits plummeted. ‘My gran helped me, and I try hard all the time. I practise every night.’

‘Well, that must be why you’ve made as much progress as you have, but it’s going to be hard for you.’

‘Do you mean it’s too late for me to learn?’

‘Don’t look so disappointed, Amy.’ Ted patted her hand. ‘I’ll set you some exercises, and we’ll work together for about an hour each day. You will be able to improve, but we must face the fact that you might never be able to read and write fluently.’

Her generous mouth thinned. ‘What’s wrong with me, then?’

‘I don’t know, my dear; I wish I did. One thing I’m sure about though is that it has nothing to do with your intelligence. Apart from that one problem you are a normal, bright girl.’

That piece of news helped and she managed a smile. ‘If I can learn a bit, I don’t mind. I’ll never stop trying.’

‘Good for you.’ Mrs Dalton, who had been listening intently, spoke for the first time. ‘The moment I met you I knew you had courage. The problems and tragedies you had would have knocked out anyone else, but you haven’t let them grind you down. I’m proud of you, dear.’