Things the Eye Can't See. Penny Joelson

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      ‘Yes – upstairs, like always,’ Gran sighs. ‘Hardly get a word out of him these days. But as long as he doesn’t bring any of those creatures down here . . .’

      Joe, who goes to a different school and gets home before me, somehow manages to whisk himself off to his room without getting caught up with Gran. I don’t think Gran minds because it’s not easy having a conversation with Joe. He’s not exactly sociable. He used to be obsessed with computer games, but Mum and Dad got worried about it and decided to get him a pet as a distraction. Joe chose an iguana. Now Joe is reptile mad and has a room full of tanks and assorted creatures. He still hardly ever comes out.

      ‘Tell me all about your day,’ says Gran.

      This is the bit I hate. Not much interesting happens, and even if it did, I’d not want to be telling Gran every detail. She always manages to say something that annoys me. Anyway, if I told her about Charlie and the note, she’d demand that I show her and she’d have no qualms about opening and reading it. She’d take over completely. It crosses my mind that maybe I should open it and read it myself with my magnifier. I’m tempted. I’d love to know what it says – but I promised. I can hear Charlie saying how he trusts me; I remember the desperation in his voice. Somehow, I don’t want to let him down.

      ‘English was good,’ I tell Gran. ‘We’re reading Pride and Prejudice. And I’ve got art tomorrow. I’m looking forward to getting on with my painting.’

      Gran tuts. ‘Why you want to do art when you can barely see, I’ll never understand,’ she says. ‘Wouldn’t you rather do music? There are some amazing blind pianists, you know.’

      This is Gran at her most irritating.

      ‘Gran!’ I protest. ‘I love art – and photography – and I’ve never wanted to play the piano! Mum says . . .’

      ‘Oh, please don’t start telling me what your mother says,’ Gran interrupts, sighing. ‘She and I will never agree. I hear she’s off to one of her conferences again next week? Where is it? Amsterdam, did your dad say?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘How long is it for this time?’ Gran’s disapproving tone is so obvious it makes me cross.

      ‘Five days, I think,’ I tell her. ‘But we’ll be fine. It’s important work that she’s doing. I’m proud of her, Gran. She’s trying to make a difference – to help to save this planet!’

      Mum’s an engineer, developing environmentally friendly alternatives to plastic, and she gets asked to speak all over the world.

      ‘Yes, but you and Joe are important too,’ Gran insists. ‘She should get her priorities straight. He needs help, that brother of yours – spending all his time stuck in that room with those reptiles. It can’t be healthy. And you’re doing well, Libby, but you’re only just getting used to having a guide dog. Your mum should be helping you.’

      I love Gran, but I’ve had enough of biting my tongue for one day. I stand up and push my chair back. ‘I’d better get on with my homework.’

      ‘Yes, I guess you had,’ says Gran, sighing. ‘But before you go – guess who I bumped into today?’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘Dominic!’ Gran exclaims. ‘Would you believe it – after all this time!’

      Gran goes to a Book Group at U3A (University of the Third Age – classes for old people) on Thursdays and had started getting friendly with a guy called Dominic. We teased her because she seemed to bring his name into every conversation for a while, though she insisted they were ‘just good friends’. But then he stopped coming, and they turned out not to be such ‘good friends’ because they hadn’t even exchanged contact details so she had no way of keeping in touch. I wondered secretly whether he’d stopped because he got fed up with Gran, though I know that was a mean thought. He wasn’t young, and it also seemed possible that he might have died.

      ‘So where’s he been?’ I asked.

      ‘In hospital, poor soul. He had a heart attack, but he’s doing fine now. He’ll be back at the group next week, he says. And he asked if I’d like to meet him for coffee tomorrow!’

      ‘Ooh, Gran! Did you say yes?’

      ‘’Course I did!’ Gran chuckles. Then she adds, ‘I’d like to see you finding yourself a nice fella – someone who’ll look after you.’

      ‘Gran!’ I exclaim. ‘I don’t want or need some boy to look after me! And I don’t want a boyfriend right now, anyway.’

      ‘Sorry, sweetheart – have I put my foot in it again?’ Gran says. ‘Of course, there’s no rush, you’re right. I was sixteen when I met your granddad though,’ she adds. ‘And it might be harder for you – to find someone who’ll be prepared to . . .’

      ‘Gran!’ I exclaim again before she can finish that sentence.

      I can hear Dad’s voice in my head saying, ‘I know she doesn’t always say the right things, but she means well, Libs. Her heart’s in the right place.’ But Gran really does go too far sometimes – and this is one of those times. I open my mouth to tell her how I feel, but then I close it again. Gran hurt my feelings, but hurting hers back won’t make it better.

      ‘I’m off upstairs,’ I tell her, and I go. Samson pads up the stairs behind me. I think he’s had enough of Gran too.

      I sit at my desk and open my BrailleNote – it’s a laptop which converts my work from Braille to print and vice versa. So I can type Braille and print out a text version for the teacher to mark. I can also convert online handouts into Braille. I used to prefer to enlarge everything or use a magnifier, but now I have to do so much reading and writing, I’ve got faster at Braille and it’s much quicker and less strain on my eyes.

      Samson curls up by my feet while I try to get on with my history homework – but my mind keeps slipping back to Charlie and the note. I wonder what it says, and I’m tempted once again to open it. But I’d have to go back downstairs to get it – and anyway, I promised. I wonder how I’m going to give it to Kyle without anyone else knowing. I wonder what kind of trouble Charlie’s in. I feel a nervous kind of excitement in the pit of my tummy. This isn’t the sort of thing that happens in my very ordinary life. Everything’s routine – at home and at school, going from lesson to lesson. But now I have a challenge – a task that takes me out of my normal zone.

      Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped when Charlie called my name. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the note. I could have said ‘no’. But I didn’t.

3

      I’m walking to school, telling Samson, ‘Straight on,’ so he guides me along the road. Today I don’t feel like going down the path that cuts through to the station, where I was when Charlie gave me the note yesterday. The sun’s bright and I enjoy the warmth on my face. Cars zoom past one after the other, a constant hum. This, along with the smooth, hard pavement underfoot, feels reassuring right now, even though I usually prefer the birdsong of my usual route, with the occasional rattle of a train passing nearby, and the gravel, grass-edged path. There’s nothing to stop and photograph here.

      I’ve СКАЧАТЬ