“I know.” Francesca wiped her face with her sleeve, so Mel handed the box of tissues from the coffee table to her. Francesca’s face pulled into a tiny smile that didn’t linger.
“She told me everything that’s happened over the last few months.”
Francesca nodded and blew her nose.
“She told me you’ve been a pain in the bum in lectures, and seminars. That you’re more interested in causing havoc than learning. Is that true?”
Snuffling, Francesca shook her head.
“I didn’t think so. And she doesn’t really think so either.”
Francesca looked up sharply, her eyebrows raised. “She doesn’t?”
“Of course she doesn’t. This is uni. People don’t do uni unless they want to. It’s not the law, you know.”
Francesca’s lips curled upwards, and she nodded again.
“What happened just now?” Mel kept her voice very quiet and spoke slowly. Please don’t rush off. Please don’t run away.
Alexander set two cups of tea by them and went back to his desk, his face disappearing behind his monitor.
“She…she wanted to talk to me. To say she’d seen me struggling.” Sipping at her tea, Francesca closed her eyes and sighed. “I need to say I’m sorry. I was really horrible to her.”
“You weren’t, were you?” Mel caught her gaze and cocked an eyebrow.
Another smile threatened to appear. “I told her it was her fault that I couldn’t learn. That her lectures were boring.”
“Oh dear. Yes, that is pretty horrible.” Francesca’s face creased again, so Mel put a hand on her shoulder briefly. “Listen, we can sort it out, I promise you.”
“No, we can’t. I’m a hopeless case.”
“That’s what I thought seven years ago, when I tried to do uni and I really struggled.”
Francesca looked up at her curiously, and then looked Mel up and down. “But you’re, like, really old.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s not what I… I didn’t mean that.”
Mel grinned. “I’m forty-seven, and when I was forty, I got tested for dyslexia.”
Blinking, Francesca stared into her tea. Then she looked up at Mel again. “Dyslexia?”
“That’s right.”
“When you were forty?”
“Glad to hear you’re listening.”
Francesca glared at her in jest.
Mel was overwhelmingly pleased to see her responding to a gentle tease and not running away. “I started my paramedic science course at uni, and discovered that reading books and writing essays was really difficult for me. And I looked back and remembered I’d always found it difficult. That things were always difficult for me at school, and since becoming an adult, I’d just found ways around them. I even left my job as a teaching assistant when I couldn’t keep up with the kids.”
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it, very much.”
“That’s sad.”
“I didn’t know I had an actual, diagnosable problem. I didn’t know there were things I could do to help myself; tried and tested things. And I didn’t know I could get support from work for it. So I just did things where I wouldn’t really need to read or write.” Mel spoke a bit more about her career: about being an ECA and struggling with the paperwork.
Then she told Francesca about starting university, about how her peers had encouraged her to get tested, and how things had looked up from then on.
“I was in special needs at school, but I was a kid at a time when dyslexia wasn’t a thing; so no one knew what it was.” She picked up her tea, sipped from it, and allowed the warmth to calm her soul. “The words jump around when I read sometimes. Does that happen to you?”
Francesca stared at her, her mouth open and her teacup forgotten in her hands. She tilted her head one way, then the other, wetness gathering in her eyes again.
Mel continued. “And sometimes they get scrambled, and I have to look at each letter on its own, whereas everyone else seems to be just reading words quickly and as whole things.”
“Oh my God,” Francesca whispered, a tear running down her cheek in a haphazard pattern.
The door to the office opened and a forlorn-looking Ruby shuffled through, her briefcase hanging from her shoulder like a dead weight. She blinked when she took in the sight before her, and her gaze flicked from Mel to Francesca.
“Ruby,” Mel said, grinning at her, sending her unspoken reassurance.
Francesca looked up, and a blush swept across her features. “Oh.”
Ruby’s mascara had run, but it looked like she’d wiped it clean. She looked terribly upset, and Mel stood to go to her briefly, to smooth a hand over her shoulder.
“We’re just having a chat,” Mel explained.
Ruby perched instead on the edge of the coffee table. Mel stood a little way away, giving them some space.
There were a few moments of silence, and Ruby seemed to be waiting for Francesca to start. Mel tried not to fidget. I’ve started the ball rolling. Whatever happened in the lesson needs to be put aside. I hope they can sort it out together.
“I’m sorry,” Francesca said, her voice breaking with true sincerity. “I didn’t mean what I said.” She shrugged miserably. “Your lectures are okay.”
“I think I need to change them.”
Mel looked up and blinked. Francesca did as well.
“They’re too wordy, I think,” Ruby continued. “I need more visual stuff, maybe some videos. And I need to get some models for our seminars, so we can handle body parts and see where they fit together. Rather than me explaining how they do, without any point of reference.” She swallowed and clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“For not being able to talk to you. For not saying the right things. For not being able to teach in a way you understood.”
“I think I’m dyslexic.” Francesca blinked harshly, and a brightness flourished in her whole being. “I think I might be dyslexic.”
“Why do you think that?” Ruby asked, and Mel was glad she hadn’t been privy to their conversation. She could come at it from a clear perspective, without knowing what they had spoken about just seconds before.
“Mel says she is.” Francesca’s gaze floated over to Mel. “She says the words move about when she reads. And the letters get mixed up. That happens to me all the time.”
“It does?”
Francesca nodded.
“Okay. Would you like some advice?”
“Yes, please.” She sounded like a small child, and it was wonderful to see a gleam of hope shimmering in Francesca’s eyes, amongst the gathered tears.
“I think we should get you tested. We’ll go to student services, together if you like, and we’ll get you booked in for a proper assessment.”
“And then we’ll know?”
“And then we’ll know.”
Francesca nodded and drank the rest of her tea before laying the cup carefully on the coffee table. She fiddled with her fingers, staring at them in contemplation. Then she lifted her head to look at her teacher. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. Let’s do it. Things can’t get any worse than they are now.” Her lips twisted, and she blushed again. “I’m sorry I was a bitch.”
“Ah, that’s okay. I’m sorry I’ve not been the best teacher.”
Smiling finally, Francesca stood from the sofa. As they passed by to go out of the door, Ruby gave Mel a wide, watery look and mouthed “Thank you”.
Mel mouthed back “You’re welcome”, and the door snicked closed behind them.
Flopping onto the sofa, Mel drank deeply from her teacup and then exhaled.
Alexander bent his head to look around his computer screen. “Aren’t you going with them?”
“No. I think it’s something Ruby needs to support her with now.” She put a hand to her lips, smothering a snigger. “I’d totally forgotten you were there, mate. Quiet little thing, aren’t you?” She thought of James, how loud and playful he was. In comparison, Alexander had always seemed stoic, straight-laced, and cold. His sensitivity when they had come in, however—making them a drink each and silently allowing them to talk—had changed her mind.
“I find it pays to be quiet. You learn a lot.”
“This is true.” She settled back into the comfortable sofa and sighed again. “What a day.”
“I didn’t know you were dyslexic.” He seemed interested but not judgemental.
“I tend to leave my banner and business cards at home.”
He snorted, an uncharacteristic noise coming from the neat and tidy man across from her. “I suppose there’s a lot underneath everyone that we don’t know.”
“I suppose there is.”
Chapter 19
Late May had brought warm sunshine and dew that hung on each blade of grass every morning, making the garden glisten. The seedlings had popped through a few weeks ago and were now growing strongly. Sixteen peppers, fourteen tomatoes, and thirty small flower seedlings created a blanket of green featheriness across the shelves of the greenhouse. Ruby loved it; the different colours and textures. She loved watching the kids’ eyes brighten as they saw the fruits—literally—of their labours each time they arrived.
“I read this awesome book,” Michael said as soon as they had settled into their groups. “Gran gave it to me. It’s all about the ground and how you have to rotationalate the vegetables you grow.”
“Rotate, Michael,” Mel corrected, kindly. “And that’s right, you do have to. Different plants need different nutrients from the soil.”
“So one year you could grow peas… and the next, you could grow brassicas.” Michael frowned. “But I don’t know what a brassica is.”
“Does anyone else know?” Mel asked the group.
Frank raised his hand. “Cabbage?” He looked unsure.
Ruby beamed. “That’s right. And things like broccoli and cauliflower.”
Half the class wrinkled their noses, and one child made a gagging noise. This was followed by a muffled set of giggling.
Mel looked flabbergasted. “Don’t tell me you don’t like cauliflower!”
Another titter.
“But they’re the best thing since forever!”
The whole class laughed. The echoing of various children gagging and retching made Ruby shake her head in amused disbelief.
“And tomatoes have suckers. They’re little branches that are bad.” Michael wiggled one finger in explanation.
“And you have to take them off, don’t you?” Mel replied.
Michael nodded.
Ruby was pleased she had at least one budding gardener from their little group. If I’ve influenced one child out of thirty, I can live with that.
Mel moved over the other side of the garden to help the Potato and Onion groups check the soil was clear of debris. Her expression was bright and her gestures animated. The kids all appeared to be hanging on to her every word.
Ruby combed a hand through her hair and focussed back on Michael, who was continuing to express his newfound knowledge of tomato plants. “You should pinch out the top leaves once you have three lots of tomato flowers.”
“You’re teaching me things that I don’t even know,” Ruby said, pulling her gardening gloves on, ready to work. “You’ll have me out of a job.”
Michael giggled and clasped his hands behind his back. “You carry on,” he said in an overly posh voice, and everyone laughed.
“You don’t know everything, do you, young man?” Mrs Denzie had her arms folded over her designer jacket.
Michael’s expression changed to one of defiance. “I read a book, Mrs Denzie. It was about gardening. I’m just talking about it.”
“You’re disrespecting your teacher. Well…” She looked Ruby up and down. “Whatever you want to call her.”
“I’m enjoying listening to Michael,” Ruby explained, attempting to keep her tone level. It wouldn’t do to create a drama in front of the kids. “It’s okay with me if he wants to tell us what he’s learned.”
“It’s not okay with me.” Mrs Denzie’s mouth had tightened into a small hole. “The children need to realise that we are here to teach them, not the other way around.”
“Well, I don’t mind if we learn from each other. I don’t know everything.” Ruby gave Michael a wink, which made him grin a bit shyly.
A vein popped at Mrs Denzie’s temple. She chucked her head in one direction, indicating for Michael to step to the side with her. He followed, his feet dragging.
Their voices were muffled, but Ruby could hear their conversation. She knelt with Chelsea, who had found a pretty stone in the bed, and tilted her head so she could listen.
“You are really starting to try my patience,” Mrs Denzie said.
“I just want to be helpful.” Michael sounded forlorn, but there was strength in his voice. He sounded used to Mrs Denzie’s criticism of him.
“It would be a shame, wouldn’t it, if your lovely Ruby found out about the little incident before Christmas?”
A pregnant pause followed. Ruby turned her head to look. Michael was shifting about and fidgeting with his fingers. “I don’t…” He looked up with wide eyes. “Please don’t say anything about that.”
“Embarrassed? By a little vomiting?”
“It… it went all over the desk.”
“It wasn’t your fault, was it?”
He shrugged. “I was poorly.”
“You were. But think of how Ruby might react if she knew that you’d done that.”
More uncomfortable twitching from Michael. Eventually, he sighed, his sad gaze lifting towards Ruby.
“I don’t think you want that, do you, Michael?”
Ruby went back to her inspection of Chelsea’s stone. Poor Michael. And why on earth is his teacher talking to him in such a way? Ruby wondered whether Mrs Denzie had had previous issues with Michael—whether he had misbehaved before and needed to be reminded of the way things were. She was unsure whether she agreed with Mrs Denzie or not. Maybe this is the only way she can keep him in line? She knows these children better than I do.
“No.” The singular word held so much misery that Ruby had a great urge to go cuddle him.
“Good boy.”
He returned to the Tomato group, and it was as if he became invisible, merging with the rest of the children and their plants.
I hope I don’t annoy her. Heaven knows she’s good at getting people to do what she wants them to do.
Mel sidled up to Ruby, and Ruby felt the brush of her fingers against her back before they were gone. “Sorry,” Mel whispered close to her ear. “Sometimes I forget.”
“So do I,” Ruby replied in kind, turning her head a little to blink up at Mel. Her gaze flicked down to Mel’s lips, but she pressed her own lips together and stepped backwards. Growling deep in her throat, she stuffed her hands into her pockets in a very Mel-like gesture. My goodness, we’re becoming twins. She took her hands back out and folded her arms.
There was laughter in Mel’s eyes as she obviously recognised Ruby’s behaviour. Ruby wanted to shove her playfully or admonish her, but she was grinning too widely. Focus. Ruby took Tomato group into the greenhouse while Mel took Potato and Onion groups to their vegetable patch. She watched out of the glass panels and saw Mel lifting each potato leaf to check for insects. Turning her attention back to her own collection of curious faces, she showed them how to check that their plants had four leaves, and if they did, to bring them outside.
A line of children, each carrying their own two plants, followed her out of the greenhouse, which was startin
g to heat up in the day and make the collar of her T-shirt damp. The Peppers sat on the picnic benches with drinks and snacks, occasionally chatting, and occasionally watching the other groups with interest.
“Michael, have you read about how to repot tomato plants?” Ruby squinted in the sun at him.
He looked uncomfortable. But then he nodded, and she allowed him to dig the first little hole in the soil they’d prepared last week, making sure there were no stones or rubbish in it. Turning his first pot upside down, he splayed his little fingers around the plant to cradle it safely and then shook the whole thing. The plant dropped into his hand, and there was a mini applause from the group. She noticed the fire from his eyes had gone, but a smile tugged his lips as he took in everyone else’s joy.
Ruby watched him gently turn the plant back the right way up. He slid it into the perfectly sized hole and gathered the soil around it, pressing it in like a cake in a tin.
She clapped herself, warmth filling every part of her body, and glanced over at Mel.
Mel caught her eye across the garden and nodded, her arms smeared with mud up to the elbow, as usual.
“Fantastic, Michael. Well done.” Stepping behind the little line of kids, she helped each of those who needed it, and when they were done there was a row of spindly tomato plants along the edge of the vegetable patch.
Next, she put Michael and his friends to work with some canes and twine, creating a long cage to support the tomatoes. He’s a born leader. He’d be a great teacher. She watched him affectionately as he grinned at her. She allowed the group to work together and come up with something fairly stable without her interference. I can always check it once they’re gone, to make sure it doesn’t bend in the wind.
The Peppers were beginning to fidget a bit, so Ruby instructed them to check their plants in the greenhouse. She went in with them, and they were all delighted to see tiny roots sticking out from the bottoms of their pots. “Time to give them bigger homes, what do you think?”
They agreed and set about choosing new pots and placing the plants into them.
Tomato group had finished their construction, and Ruby watched through the glass as Michael led them to affix it into the ground either side of the tomato plants. “Good job, guys. I’ll be out in a minute. Go grab a drink.”
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