Christmas Wishes (29 page)

‘I know, I know, don’t nag,’ Joy said cheerfully. ‘Gillian told me in the taxi that I look as though I’ve been mining coal. I’ll go and have a good wash whilst you brew the tea.’ She gestured to the room around her. ‘Any changes? Chairs in different positions and so on? I’ve got my stick, of course – the kids at Blinkers call them our extra eyes – but if everything’s in the right place I think I can probably reach the bathroom unaided.’

Joy was right and reached it without mishap. Rather to her surprise, Gillian came in with her and shut the door behind them, running the water for her, giving her the soap and guiding her hand to the towel rail, where a clean towel hung in readiness, before she spoke. ‘Joy, how did you know I was at the station? I heard you tell Dad I was there before he saw me – he’d told me I needn’t come so I know he wasn’t expecting me. I suppose it’s not important, but it just seemed strange.’

Joy said nothing for a moment. She soaped her face, neck and hands, rinsed herself off, and busied herself with the towel. Then she spoke. ‘Look, Gillian, this is a huge secret; will you swear not to tell a soul if I … but you must swear first.’

‘Of course I’ll swear,’ Gillian said at once. ‘Go on, explain. I suppose you’re psychic!’

‘No, I don’t think it’s that,’ Joy said slowly. ‘It’s – it’s even better than that. I think I actually saw you. You were standing by the engine, looking at me.’

She heard Gillian’s startled gasp, heard her sit down heavily on the edge of the bath with a thump before she replied. ‘You
saw
me! My God, Joy, that’s just wonderful! But why do you want it kept a secret?’

‘Because it’s never happened before and I’m scared that it may never happen again,’ Joy said honestly. ‘You know I sometimes get flashes of brilliant light, white or violet? Well, when I turned my head and saw you, it was the merest flash. In fact I was guessing when I said you were near the engine because I could hear the sounds of escaping steam and so on, and knew from which direction they came. At first I was terribly excited, but then I thought I might have imagined it because you and I have that twin thing which means we often say the same thing or wear the same clothes without consciously choosing them.’

‘Ye-es, I know what you mean,’ Gillian said at last, and Joy guessed that her sister, too, was having difficulty in accepting what she had just said. ‘But aren’t you going to tell Dad? Even if you won’t tell anyone else, surely you’ll tell him.’

Joy shook her head. ‘No, I’m not going to tell anyone until my sight comes back completely, which I’m sure it will. And now we’d best get down to the kitchen because Mrs Clarke will have tea on the table and from the lovely smell of baking, it’s going to be a good one.’

‘In a moment,’ Gillian promised. ‘But wouldn’t it be wonderful if we walked into the kitchen and you were able to see the celebration spread which Dad and Mrs Clarke have made for you? There’s a bright red jelly castle on mashed-up green jelly grass, and a beautiful cake with
Welcome Home Joy
written in pink icing on white, as well as Mrs Clarke’s famous vegetable pie. And the firemen had a whip-round and bought a bottle of sherry – horrid stuff – which Mrs Clarke has made into a sherry trifle, though there is still enough left for us to have a drink of it, if we want.’

They were about to leave the bathroom when something else struck Joy. ‘Two things,’ she said slowly. ‘The first is that Dad said your Keith was leaving Liverpool today and you were going to spend your time with him whilst he was still around. Why didn’t you? The second thing is that some horrible old man got fresh with me on the train; I can’t tell you about it now or we’ll be late for this celebration tea. That’ll have to wait till bedtime, but there’s nothing to stop you telling me why you came to the station after all.’

Gillian gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Keith was leaving from Central station and when I got there he was surrounded by his parents and all their friends and hardly noticed me. So I thought, damn you, Keith Bain, gave him a quick wave, and came over to Lime Street to welcome my darling sister.’ She opened the bathroom door, ushered Joy through on to the landing and handed her her white stick. ‘Was he attractive, the man who got fresh, I mean? Oh, I know you said he was horrible and old, but how do you
know
, Miss Clever Clogs? He might have looked just like Gary Cooper, or – or John Gregson.’

Joy chuckled, making her way down the stairs with her stick tucked under her arm and her hand gripping the banister rail. ‘Anything’s possible,’ she admitted. ‘But he was a doctor, which means he must be quite old, doesn’t it? I asked the guard to describe him and all he told me was that he thought the fellow was wearing a sports jacket and flannels and had dark hair. Some help that was!’ She slowed and turned to her sister, who was following her down the stairs. ‘Did you see anyone on the platform who might have been staring at me and Dad?’

Gillian gave a scornful snort. ‘On that platform? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know, but it was people soup, honest to God it was. Kids, adults, men in uniform … oh, all sorts. Even if your dirty old man looked like Leslie Howard and Clarke Gable rolled into one I wouldn’t have noticed.’

Joy had reached the foot of the stairs and turned to her sister, a finger to her lips. ‘No more now; I’ll tell you the whole story later,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to worry Dad, or spoil the celebration tea!’

It was not until the twins were in their room preparing for bed that the subject of Joy’s experience on the train was raised once more. ‘I don’t understand why you’re being so coy,’ Gillian said rather indignantly. ‘After all, according to what you’ve told me so far, you were rescued before the bloke could work his wicked wiles on you. So why don’t you want to talk about him? If he didn’t do anything awful – and I don’t see how he could have done, on a public train – there’s no reason not to tell me, your best friend and also your twin, just what went on.’

Joy laughed and hugged herself; it was lovely, she discovered, to be treated like a normal girl who might have to fight off unwanted attention, even if it was from what her twin had described as a dirty old man.

Furthermore, in the past it had always been Gillian who attracted the boys whilst Joy had been forced to play a listening role. She had had friends who were boys – Edward and Colin, for instance – but they had been just that: friends. Neither they nor she had looked for a warmer relationship. But now she was the one who had had an experience which Gillian wanted to share, and it was Gillian who was begging for details of Joy’s acquaintance instead of vice versa. She realised she was longing to ‘tell all’, as the saying went.

‘Now that we’re alone, I’ll tell you the whole story, right from the beginning,’ she said. ‘It was really weird. You see, the train emptied at Crewe, so I was alone in the compartment until a man joined me. In my mind’s eye I see him with thick, white wavy hair down to his shoulders, like Wild Bill Hickok, and a big white moustache. He told me his name was Dr Slocombe, and said that he sometimes lectured at Blinkers, so assumed I must know him. But I didn’t.’

Joy told the story exactly as it had happened, and when she got to the bit where she had felt his breath on her face Gillian gave a gasp. ‘How absolutely dreadful!’ she exclaimed, and Joy was pleased that her twin’s reaction was exactly the same as her own. ‘Did you give him a slap across the face? I think I would have just jumped up and run away … but I suppose, not being able to see, you could scarcely do that.’

‘I wanted to; I did jump up,’ Joy admitted. When she got to the point in her story where the doctor had actually put his hands on her shoulders, trying to press her back into her seat, she heard Gillian gasp again. ‘Then the compartment door slid open and the guard appeared, like St George rescuing the maiden from the dragon. I’ve never been so glad to see anybody in my whole life – well, I know I didn’t see him, but I heard him asking what was amiss. Of course the doctor tried to explain but the guard grabbed my stick and my suitcase, slung my coat across my shoulders and hustled me out into the corridor. I think he was quite ashamed that he had not checked on me at Crewe, which of course he should have done. But there was this dog …’

At the end of her story Joy waited for her twin’s reaction, but none came. ‘Well? If he really is a medical man and has lectured at Blinkers, I suppose it’s just possible he might know something that all the other doctors have missed. Only the truth is I’m sure he’s a fake and I hated him; he scared me and I think he knew I was frightened. So I intend to forget all about him and carry on with my normal life.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Gillian said slowly. ‘I read a story in the papers recently about a young man who provided himself with a white coat, a stethoscope and a clipboard and went into hospitals, telling the patients he was a houseman. He examined wounds and dressings and ordered the nurses about for more than a year without being detected. He even assisted at minor operations – in fact it was only when a particularly bright theatre nurse queried the advice he was giving that he was unmasked – ha ha, forgive the expression! He gained nothing from the impersonation, except I suppose he enjoyed the kudos of being thought to be a medical man and having power over a great many pretty nurses. Your Dr Slocombe may be what they call a confidence trickster, the same as the feller in the article. However, if his plate is really up in Rodney Street then I suppose he’s what he says he is. The faith healing business is different, though I know faith healers exist and it’s possible that some have had good results where ordinary medicine has failed. But I think they mainly cure things like headaches and … and rheumatism.’

Joy giggled. ‘And I’m not suffering from either,’ she said buoyantly. ‘Well, Rodney Street or no Rodney Street, I didn’t like or trust the so-called doctor. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to discover that he was a fake.’ She reached out a hand, which Gillian promptly took. ‘I’ve just had an awful idea, though. He talked about thought transference and things. Do you suppose that was the reason I thought my sight had returned, just for a moment? A bit like believing someone can cure your headaches, only it’s just – just kidology, if there is such a word?’

‘Oh dear, I suppose it might have been,’ Gillian said. ‘If so, perhaps we really ought to check up on this Dr Slocombe. If he stirred up something in your mind … oh, I don’t know, it’s a real mystery. Tell you what, can you remember what I was wearing when you thought you saw me?’

‘No, it went too quickly,’ Joy admitted. ‘Oh, how I hate mysteries. But I’m sure I did see you on the platform, Gillian.’

‘It’s really strange,’ her sister said, ‘but it’s certainly given us food for thought.’

‘Oh, I’m sick of the whole subject; let’s talk about something different,’ Joy said. ‘Tell me about Keith. I know he’s nice because you wouldn’t go around with him if he wasn’t; I know he’s good-looking because you wouldn’t want an ugly boyfriend and I know he’s athletic, because you watch him playing rugger in the winter and cricket in the summer. And you both play tennis, even though you hate being beaten and he nearly always wins.’

Gillian laughed. ‘Clever girl. You’ve hit the nail on the head; he’s tall, around six foot, I suppose, with dark hair, dark brown eyes and a very determined chin. He spends so much time out of doors that he’s always got a tan, and he’s got nice white teeth which you can see when he gives his gorgeous smile. But you’ll meet him soon enough and I know you’ll fall for him; all the girls do …’

‘Stop, stop, stop!’ Joy said, laughing. ‘You make him sound like a gypsy’s horse – all those strong white teeth – but I don’t want to buy him. And now let’s go to sleep or we’ll never get up in time to make Dad’s breakfast tomorrow.’

‘But I want to talk about the mysterious doctor,’ Gillian objected. ‘Oh, Joy, you beast, you aren’t to go to sleep until you’ve satisfied my curiosity on all fronts … Joy? Don’t you dare go to sleep. I’m your older sister, and … Joy?’

A snore answered her, and though Joy knew that Gillian would recognise it for what it was – a fake – her twin must have been pretty tired herself, for she snuggled down, saying as she did so: ‘Aren’t I mean to treat my little sister so unkindly on her first day home! G’night, you pest.’

‘G’night,’ Joy murmured sleepily, and heard Gillian laugh before she plunged into slumber.

Chapter Eleven

When she awoke next morning, Joy was immediately aware of sunshine streaming in through the open window and falling warmly across her face, and also of the traffic noises which told her it was very probably time to get up. She had a little alarm clock with the numbers raised so that she could read the time by touch, but she had not yet unpacked it so lay on her back trying to work out what time it was.

She had barely begun to identify the sounds coming through her open window, however, when the church clock struck seven and she heard Gillian’s snores stop abruptly. Then, as though she had realised that today was a holiday, her sister sighed deeply, mumbled something and began to snore once more.

Joy swung her legs out of bed and moved cautiously to where she knew her chair stood. Last night she had been so tired that she had not put her clothes in order as she took them off, but it didn’t really matter. She would carry them across to the bathroom, lock herself in and sort her clothes out once she was washed. For a moment she dithered, remembering that she had worn an old school dress for the journey, knowing she was bound to get it dirty; today, it would be nice to wear something fresh in honour of the warm sunshine. But she could change later; for now she would dress and go downstairs so that it would be she who would make Alex’s breakfast, unaided by her twin.

Having locked herself into the bathroom, she did her usual check, though she knew that nothing much changed in this particular room, lavatory, bath and hand basin being fixtures, though the cork-top stool could be moved – had been moved, in fact. She laid her clothes upon it and began to wash, and was struck by a sudden thought. She had been puzzled at the time when Dr Slocombe had said he imagined she was a pupil from Blinkers and thought he recognised her, and so had accepted without question his claim to have lectured at the school. Now, however, she chided herself for not remembering she had been wearing her summer uniform. Of course he had recognised it and, wanting to start up a conversation, had used the fact not only that she was reading Braille but also that she wore the uniform of the most renowned school for the blind in the whole of Great Britain.