by Emma
AT FIRST SIGIIT
I67
brown, but nobody told me you were a hundred shades of
brown.' Her reply was to wag her tail even more vigorously,
take one of the smaller bags from me, and go rushing round
with it on the grass. We had not been together for ten days,
and she was as thrilled to meet me as I was to see her for the
first time. She went off towards the car holding the bag and
dived into the back seat with it, so niaking sure in her own
mind that I was not going to go away from her again. If she
had the bag it stood to reason that I would have to stay with
her!
I got in, and Emma kept touching nie with her nose, while I
stroked her affectionate head. It was odd sitting in the car that
I had been in so many times, but about the appearance of
which I had no idea, from the dashboard to the upholstery.
It was odd, too, watching Don driving, changing gear,
steering. I had never thought about it, and had barely appreciated
that so much was involved. I kept looking at him, and
thinking, 'Isn't he good-looking? Isn't he fabulous? Aren't I
lucky?' He looked at me from time to time, not saying much
at all.
Once out of the hospital gates I began to look out of the
car more, and all sorts of things canie tumbling in on my
consciousness. 'Those orange lines down there, what are
they for?'
'Oh, they're double yellow lines-there are single yellow
lines as well. They tell you where you can park and where
you can't.'
'When did they put them there?'
'They've been there for years.'
'Are you sure?'
'Mm ... they've been there for ages.'
It was slightly unnerving seeing things the existence of
which I had never even suspected. 'Don, look. There are all
sorts of white lines along the road.'
'Yes. They've been there even longer.'
I thought, 'I suppose no one would ever have dreamt of
telling me that there were white and yellow lines on the roads;
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I68 EMMA AND I
they wouldn't have thought I'd be interested.' Seeing them,
I was fascinated. The verges, too. I had no idea they were all
so grassy, or that there were so many trees.
'Don, look at the trees. Are there always as many as this?'
'Yes. They're all over the place, thousands of them. Even
in the city.'
Of course I knew there were trees. I'd always been aware of
them, and could hear them when the wind blew. But I had
never imagined so many, or that they were everywhere,
growing out of pavements, in gardens, and, as we drove
through the countryside towards Nottingham, more and more
of them, all different shapes. I could not get over the shapes,
some round, some tall, and all in varying, breathtaking shades
of green.
Don said ' 'All trees are like that. Even the same kind of tree,
oak, beech, chestnut, or whatever, can vary in shape when you
look at it.' And I looked and looked at them as we drove
along, with the sun catching them and somehow becoming
entangled in the branches and leaves, and throwing moving
shadows, so that the trees looked as if they were made in
layers, like frills. I could see the leaves being moved by the
wind, and said, 'They look as if they're doing a dance in the
wind.'
All the people intrigued me, and I am sure that Don, kind
as he is, must have wanted to laugh at me. 'Gosh,' I said, 'look
at all the people on the pavement. They've all got different
coloured clothes. It's fantastic.' But Don did not laugh. He
just said, 'Yes, when you've been in the car before, you won't
have realized they were there, because you couldn't hear them
once you were on the move.' He was right. I had known there
were countless people all around, but when you can't see, a
car insulates you; you don't think about all the human beings
outside it doing their shopping, or going to work, or going to
the pub, or standina talking.
I kept saying to Don, 'Look at the houses, they're all
different, they've all got different coloured doors.' Yellow
lines, white lines, posters, buses, road signs, shops ... it was
AT FIRST SIGHT
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I69
like ajourney to somewhere you had never been before, somewhere
you had never thought existed, a new world, all
rotating past the car window like an enormous merry-goround.
When we were nearly home I remembered my flowers. I
had so many beautiful bouquets, and bunches of roses,
dahlias and freesias that even the hospital had more than
enough for other patients, and had said they did not mind my
taking some home. But in the excitement the flowers had quite
gone out of my mind. I was rather upset, at the thought of all
the people who had sent them or brought them being, so to
speak, casually neglected, rebuffed even. 'Can't we go back?'
I asked Don, but he said, 'Oh, it's a terribly long way, and
we're nearly home now. It doesn't matter.' But it did matter.
Another thought pushed this one aside. My Siamese cats had
been boarded out. Pat, a good friend who herself bred Siamese,
had taken Ming with her four-week-old kitten. Sandra had
taken Hera, my Redpoint and her litter of four, and yet
another friend had taken my male Lilacpoint. I was dying to
see them all, and, now I knew that colours were nothing like I
had imagined, to find out what they were really like. 'Oh
Don,' I said, 'are the cats all right? Can we fetch them back
this afternoon?'But hejust said, 'Now, don't worry about the
cats. Everything's sorted out. You just come home, and everything
will be fine.' By this time we were in the road where we
lived. It all looked more lovely than I'd imagined, with the
trees and the roses in people's front gardens. Then we drew
up at the gate. I got out, and Emma leaped over the seat, and
got in front of me, tail wagging. As we opened the door,
Emma rushed in first, and went straight to fetch me various
gifts to show how pleased she was that I was home.
I walked into the living room, my living room, and saw it
for the first time. Like so much else, it was different from my
mental image: because so much had been dark and dismal in
my mind, I hadn't pictured what a lovely room it was. I was
delighted. I suddenly thought that Don had had the rich red
carpet specially put down for me, but when I knelt down and
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I70 EMMA AND I
touched it, I realized he hadn't. It was the same carpet we had
always had. Then he said, 'What do you think of the fireplace?'
This was lovely, all the stone he had carefully laid,
with fawns and pinks, and throwing shadows where they
jutted out. I noticed the horse brasses that I had cleaned
every week, and saw their sparkle for the first time.
Then I suddenly caught sight of the biggest bouquet of
flowers imaginable in the middle of the table-pinks, roses,
dahlias, all overflowi
ng the bowl and dominating the room.
'Don,' I said, 'you shouldn't have. They're wonderful. What
a homecoming! No wonder you didn't mind about the
hospital flowers!'
So much for my anxiety in the car. In the next instant, my
other small worry was dispelled. I realized, turning away
from the flowers, and with quite a start, that there was someone
else in the room. I caught a movement in the corner of
my eye, looked round, and saw a woman standing over by the
window. I had no idea who it was.
'Who's that?' I said, staring at her, and having not a glimmer
of recognition (whose face, on reflection, could I have
recognized immediately?). She started to laugh, but would
not say anything, and I racked my brains trying to think
who it was. Then she said, still laughing, 'It's me.' Instantly I
knew the voice. 'Pat,' I said, 'what are you doing here?'
'Well, I've brought your cats.'
'You mean Ming and the kitten. How marvellous.'
'No, not just Ming and the kitten. I've got all the rest as
well. I thought you'd want to see them all as soon as you could.'
Pat disappeared into the kitchen, and, a second later, round
the door came Ming. What struck me immediately was how
intensely blue her eyes were, and, as I took in her other details
-her shiiiing black face, her paws, her cars-I reacted in the
same way as when, only an hour before, I had seen Emma
for the first time. With Ming, and with my other cats as they
came in later, I was not at all prepared for the variety of
colours and shades that no one and no textbook had ever
told me about. I had originally chosen to have Siamese
AT FIRST SIGHT
I7I
because they were so smooth and svelte, but to see them was
a revelation, and the greatest pleasure of all was to watch
them move. It was as if they floated over the ground.
Eventually Don had to go back to the surgery, and do his
round of patients, and Pat had to leave, too. This left me in the
house on my own (apart from the animals) and I quite liked
the idea, because it gave me an opportunity to look round at
everything I wanted to see. I sat on the settee, with Emma
next to me, and I looked at her. Don had often said that
Emma had an old-fashioned look, and I saw the expression
he meant when we sat there on that first afternoon: a look that
suggested great moral virtue. I smiled at her, putting out my
hand to stroke her. She put her head forward towards my
hand, and I thought, 'I wonder if she's been doing that for the
past ten years when I put out my hand, not knowing exactly
where she was?'
It was so marvellous to sit and look at Emma (even more
than a year later I have still not got over my fascination as I
look at people and animals) and watch her face change to a
kind of delight, with her ears going up, and the end of her tail
brushing the carpet. As we sat there, I thought of all the things
I wanted to do, now I was home.
One of the first items was to look into a mirror. I had seen
Don, Emma, Ming and the other cats. But I had not yet
seen me! I could have done in hospital, I suppose, but I
hadn't wanted to. I wanted to save this most personal
experience until I was on my own, for I was more than a
little apprehensive. I had no idea what to expect. One half of
my mind prompted, 'Come on, get it over with. It's got to be
done, and waiting won't alter the result for better or worse.'
The other half of my mind insisted on delaying. I suppose I
sat on the settee for nearly a quarter of an hour, stroking
Emma, and summoning up the will to go and do what had to
be done.
When I could not see, I had never really thought much
about the existence of mirrors, and the house, naturally, was
not over-endowed with them. I supposed there was one in the
I72 EMMA AND I
bathroom for Don to see himself shaving. While I was sitting
there, turning these thoughts over in my mind, I was looking
round the room again. Apart from mirrors, I had never thought
very much about the existence of the pictures on the wall,
either. I had known they were there, but the objects that blind
people do not come into contact with constantly by touch are
not retained in the forefront of the mind. At least, that was my
experience. Don used to paint in his spare time, and there
were some of his canvases on the wall. I found them intriguing,
and remember looking at them, and trying consciously to
sort out which was which from memory.
One that he had done was a copy of Rembrandt's Man in the
Golden Helmet. I was fascinated by the gold, and the intricate
work on the helmet. To the left, I recalled, there was a
seascape. When I went to look at this, I encountered for the
first time the difficulty which was to crop up quite frequently
in those first few days out of hospital. This was the problem of
relating the reality of the image transmitted through the eyes
to the brain, to a previous reality which was conditioned by
touch or verbal description. Some objects that I saw for the
first time I could identify immediately, although I still do not
know why. But with others I had not the least notion of what
they might be, until I felt them. The seascape I could make
no sense of whatsoever. When Don brought me a cup of tea
the following morning, I looked at the cup and had no idea
what it was until I touched it.
But, back to looking into the mirror. At last, after examining
our various pictures, and sitting with Emma, I made a
move to the bathroom, and there confronted myself. I saw, as
with Don coming up the ward, but even more unnerving, a
total stranger. I did not know what to think. The lips moved
when I moved mine, and the eyes blinked when I blinked.
Seemingly these were the only points of contact between me
and the looking-glass image. Looking back, I suppose I should
not have expected sudden recognition. How could I suddenly
form an opinion of myself? Of my hair I thought, 'Not bad,
not bad, it's really just about the same colour as Emma's.'
AT FIRST SIGHT I73
The feature I kept on looking at was my nose. I put my hand
up to touch it, because I could not believe it. I felt it, and it
felt as it always had done. It hadn't grown. But to see it was
an awful shock. It looked grotesque and clown-like; it
dominated my entire face. Why had no one told me about my
nose? Don, my mother, all my friends, must have known about
it all along and kept quiet out of politeness. I was so upset, I
could not look any longer. I felt miserable that I had a nose
that stuck out so far, and it took me a long time before I was
reassured that it was not extraordinary.
To get away from the thought of my nose I went into the
bedroom, and looked into the wardrobe at all the clothes
which friends had helped me buy, or which I had bought
myself after having them described to me by
the assistant in
the shop. Some were awful. There were colours that did not
go with one another, and others that were far too bright and
gaudy for my liking. I was quite taken with some dresses I
hadn't previously liked: the texture of the material had not
pleased me and I was surprised to find they were very pretty.
It was a strange sensation-these were the outfits I had worn,
all unknowing. But now the exciting thing was the prospect
of being able to go out and choose my own clothes and start
a fresh wardrobe. That cheered me up, nose or no nose.
I went back into the sitting room and sat down, and looked
round me once more. I loved the curtains, and the carpet,
and the wallpaper. Everything was so colourful, and looked
to me fresh and new. I had lived here for years, but it was like
being in a different home. It was not the home of my imagination
at all, but a brighter, more spacious, more comfortable
place altogether.
By this time, I was getting rather hungry, particularly since
I had not had anything at lunchtime. I would have to go out
to the shops and buy something for tea. I was itching to do
this, in fact, to go out on my own. What would it be like?
The shops were not far away, on the corner, and I knew them
well. I wanted to see them. I found my shopping bag in the
hall, and got to the front door, with Emma sensing we were
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I74 EMMA AND I
about to go for an outing, and getting excited. But at the door
I stopped. Exactly how would I do it? I felt instantly apprehensive.
My original idea had been that I would go with
Emma on the lead. But now I decided that for this first time
I had better put on her harness, and let her take me along.
Then, when I was thoroughly used to going out, we could
dispense with the harness.
I picked the harness off the peg and Emma immediately
went wild. She bounced up and down, and barked, and shook
herself, and was overjoyed that after all this time of separation
we were at last going out together again. It would be like old
times for her, though not for me. I asked Emma to find the
shops, and she took me out of the gate and along the footpath.