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Authors: Marilyn Messik

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BOOK: Relatively Strange
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The third member of the team was a severe looking young woman in a black suit who didn’t join the other two behind their table, but sat on a chair a little distance back as befitted her student status. Rachael Peacock.” Glory paused to take another sip of tea and finding the cup empty, held it out in my direction, I organised refills.
“I really don’t know,” continued Glory reflectively “Which of the two of us was more electrified when I was brought in. She recognised me instantly for what I was and tried to calm me. I knew only that there was somebody in my head and I started to scream.” I nodded wryly, I could well identify with that and I’d been quite a bit older when Glory had introduced herself.
“Everything went wild for a while. I tried to get out of the room, Rachael and the assistant, Mandy who’d brought me in, struggled to grab my arms and legs, holding me still to stop me hurting myself or them. Mr Smuss said a good slap never did a hysterical child any harm and Mrs Mokovsky, bless her, sat there calmly waiting for the storm to pass. Wise woman, she knew it would. And sure enough, after a little while when I had no voice left with which to scream she suggested that Miss Peacock keep Mandy and me company while we went to get a glass of water, then perhaps we’d all talk some more.
The three of us went into the room next door and Rachael suggested to Mandy that perhaps rather than a glass of water, a hot cup of tea might do us all good. Mandy wasn’t going to be gone for long. Rachael looked at me and I looked through her eyes too at a small, fearful, snotty-nosed, six year old with sweat-matted hair and wide unseeing eyes, too shocked and scared now to even cry out again. I felt her sweep straight through me and she read and instantly assessed all that had gone on and with her comprehension came mine. In those few moments I learned the answers to so many of the questions that until then had baffled me completely. And she did the only thing she could in the time we had. She opened her arms to me and I went into them unhesitatingly.”
I sniffed and she looked up sharply,
“Nothing to cry about for Pete’s sake, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. By the time Mandy came back with the tea, we were sitting on chairs on either side of the table and nobody would have known that anything out of the ordinary had taken place.”
“But wasn’t it awful to finally realise you were blind?”
“God no. After the initial shock, it was like having a dislocated shoulder put back – everything suddenly clicked into place. I could make sense of it all, understand the way things were. And in truth I was no blinder than before.”
“And then?”
“In due course Rachael took me back in to Mrs Mokovsky and Mr Smuss and they asked me all the questions they needed to ask and were delighted, not only that I answered, but that I spoke up coherently and intelligently and whenever I got stuck, she was there, in my head, helping me.
The report they put in concluded my emotional problems and withdrawal in recent months had been due to understandable distress and shock over the sudden loss of my sight. They recommended I be given practical help in dealing with my disability that a place be secured for me at a school for the blind. Other than that they found me to be normal and, considering the circumstances, reasonably well adjusted. And at the end of the day and after assessing about a dozen other children, they packed up and left.”
“Left?”
“Well, they were never going to stay, this was just one of the many homes they dealt with.”
“But what about Rachael? Weren’t you scared you’d never see her again?”
“She told me I would.”
“Was it awful when she left?”
“Awful? No. What had gone before had been awful, but afterwards … well, I wasn’t alone any more was I?”
“So what happened?” I leaned forward, I could see her elegantly chiselled features more clearly now. It was getting light outside and the first bird call was joined soon by a chorus. Hamlet pricked his ears momentarily, decided it was nothing to do with him and carried on sleeping.
“Rachael had to complete a thesis to pass her final exams and get her qualifications. She chose me as her case study, gained approval from the authorities and came to visit me every week for a year. Ostensibly she was following and charting my progress, in reality she was shaping it. She showed me how to shield and protect myself and also, over the period of time, how to work more effectively with the damaged children. She taught me that sometimes, in some cases, although there are things you can do, the end result does more harm than good and wisdom lies in knowing when not to interfere. She made me appreciate the strength and weaknesses of what we are and become aware that it should never be underestimated nor misused.” She paused thoughtfully then added, “Well, only under exceptional circumstances! As the year drew on, she was allowed to take me out of the home on outings and I came here and met Ruth.” She smiled slightly and I saw how the two young women who’d come through the war and lost everyone but each other, and the child who’d never had anyone in the first place, had formed their own family.
“By the time Rachael had finished her case study and passed her exams she was such a regular visitor and everyone was so used to seeing her, she just kept on coming. Meanwhile, I’d not only learnt Braille, but more importantly, how to meet people’s expectations of what a blind person can and can’t do. And that’s all for now.” She rose abruptly, pushing off the blanket, stifling a yawn and stretching her elegant frame. “I’m going for a hot bath.”
“You can’t, I want to know the rest.”
“Later.” she said and left.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tiredness caught up with me as she left and I suddenly felt like I’d run a marathon. I couldn’t face heading upstairs so I curled up on the sofa pulling the blanket over me, still warm from Glory. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke, the curtains were drawn back, the room was filled with light and there were breakfast type noises going on. I was lovely and warm, someone had covered me with an extra heavy blanket, although as I moved it did too and I realised Hamlet, an opportunist if ever I met one, had made himself at home. My mother would have died a death!
Ed was setting out the breakfast things in his inimitable way.
“Morning.” I said and if he was surprised to find me asleep under Hamlet, he naturally didn’t show it. I headed for the door to wash and dress, out of the corner of my eye I noted a box of Cornflakes and jug of milk on their way to the table.
I was starving, so in the upstairs bathroom administered only what Grandma called a lick and a promise although, as the familiar phrase came into my mind, so too did the woman in the hospital bed who wasn’t Grandma any more.
When I came down again it was to find the three women already at the table. Glory, in a hectically patterned canary-yellow silk top and matching trousers looked as exotic as usual and showed no sign of having been up half the night. Ruth, the half-moon glasses halfway down her nose was scanning a newspaper and smiled at me. She was in another oversized jumper, this one with a migraine-inducing wavy line theme. Miss Peacock herself, looked exactly the same, I was to learn she had a whole wardrobe of white shirts and grey skirts, maybe it was a reaction to the choice of the others. I helped myself to a bowl of cereal and poured a cup of tea.
“Eat quickly, lot to do.” Briskly unprepared to waste greeting time, Miss P was working her way through the post, sorting it decisively into two piles.
“Glory said she’d tell me the rest of her story.” I protested.
“I’ll do some of the telling, she’s eating.” Ruth folded her paper and sat back, nursing a coffee. “Now where did she get to?” I opened my mouth but she was there before me, “Right, I’ll carry on from there.” I’d no doubt get used to this in time, but was obviously still leaving far too much hanging out for public consumption.
*
“By the time Glory was – sixteen?” she raised an eyebrow for confirmation and Glory nodded, “Just a little younger than you are now, my dear, she’d come to live with us full time. In the intervening nine years, Rachael and I had continued our teaching work, often obtaining surprising results and our reputations and practice had grown accordingly.
“Hang on.” I said, “The children you help, are many like us?”
“It’s not as simple as that.” Miss Peacock stifled, not very well, a sigh. I hoped she had more patience with her patients. “There’s an enormous spectrum of ability, no two people exactly the same, you must know that by now.” I was stung,
“Why would I, you’re the only ones I’ve met.”
“Nonsense,” she shook her head, irritably, “You haven’t been looking properly – there’ll be people you’ve known with particularly sharp intuition. People whose guesses are always a shade more accurate than they should be. They’re at the other end of the scale from you, nevertheless they’re on the same scale, even if they never know it.” I thought – Miss Macpharlane.
“Precisely,” said Miss Peacock, “Quite a number around like that, not so many like us.”
“How many?”
“Heaven’s sake girl, we can’t be exact. We’ve personally seen over the years and with all the children who’ve been through our hands, probably only about four true adepts, another eight or so with varying milder degrees of ability.”
“But there must be others, people you haven’t come across personally.”
“Obviously, but I can’t dish out facts and figures. We believe these abilities are latent in almost everyone, although it’s only a tiny minority who seem to have a switch thrown to activate them.”
Ruth leaned forward a hand on my arm to call my attention,
“Understand dear, for many this is not a gift, but a curse. Voices in the head have driven people insane for centuries. Those who are unable to learn control, who don’t know what they’re hearing, end up sedated in mental homes, often misdiagnosed schizophrenics.” She paused while I thought this through then went on, “An acceptance of what you are, is essential, your parents have done an excellent job with you. They can be very proud.” I stored that to take home.
“But in the long run, each and every one of us has to choose our own path. Some opt to school themselves to as near normality as possible, teach themselves to completely shut away what they have, what they are. Others shape their ability, grab it with both hands and make it work for them.” I opened my mouth on a host of questions, but Miss Peacock interrupted swiftly.
“Levitating, can you still do it?”
“Levitating?” She tutted,
“You think of it as flying, it’s not really you know.”
“Not like I used to,” I was regretful both for the vanishing ability and the different slant on it, “It takes so much more effort now, makes me feel a bit sick, so I don’t bother – no fun anymore.” She nodded,
“Goes that way, never come across anyone who really enjoys it after a certain age. We think it’s simply an increase in body weight.” She looked at me critically and I automatically pulled in my stomach. “You can still do it though?”
“Don’t know, haven’t tried in ages.”
“We can help, but we don’t have a great deal of time. Ruth, finish what she needs to know. I promise I won’t interrupt again.” Ruth rolled her eyes at me in disbelief, took a sip of coffee and continued.
“The number of people working in our child-care field is small. When there’s interesting news it spreads quickly and around the time Glory came to live with us, we started hearing about a doctor who’d come to this country from South Africa. He’d some interesting and innovative theories, was covering new territory with his work with disabled and disturbed children. Rachael and I went along one day to a lecture he was giving in London. He was younger than we’d expected, mid-forties probably then, and a thoroughly unpleasant piece of work.” She made a small moue of distaste. “He was, it quickly became apparent, exceedingly clever, drivingly ambitious and hungry for a breakthrough discovery that would make his name and fortune. He’d trained, qualified, risen through the ranks and been working for a number of years in various hospitals in South Africa. He’d opened his own highly successful private practice and, we later found out, left the country in something of a hurry, just ahead of a breaking scandal.
BOOK: Relatively Strange
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