“Number one,” Lindsey said earnestly, “many of the people I go to see have no family to speak of, or if they do the family don’t care about them, they just want to get their hands on their money. BAB is often the best family they’ve got. Number two, I don’t force them into anything. I tell them about my life, about what BAB has done for me and others like me, and they know what it’s doing for them. They’re often delighted when it dawns on them that they can give something back.”
“I hope you don’t tell them too much about your life,” Niall said, lightening the tone.
“I leave you out of it, don’t worry,” Lindsey said.
“So they say yes and what happens?” Niall asked.
“I recommend them one of our solicitors and make an appointment for them so the new will can be drawn up.”
“And that’s how BAB gets its money.”
“Most of it, yes,” Lindsey said. “We need those legacies, Niall. When the National Lottery started, regular donations plummeted. And they’ve never recovered. We get our share of the lottery cake but it’s nothing to what we used to get. And it costs a phenomenal amount to run a big charity like this.”
“That sounds like somebody else talking,” Niall said.
“It’s the truth,” Lindsey said.
“Those old women – I suppose most of them are women – pay your wages.”
“I don’t think of it like that.”
“Well who’d’ve thought it,” Niall said.
“What?”
“That you’d end up as a bizarre kind of Indulgence saleswoman.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. The Middle Ages. When you could buy pardons and things that would get you into heaven. This is the same. It’s playing on people’s sense of guilt and gratitude.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lindsey said. “You always made everything ridiculous.”
“Thanks. So, who decides then how all this money gets spent? I mean, once they’ve creamed off their salaries and paid all the minions like you, who decides what goes where?”
“Why do you want to know all this?” Lindsey asked, suddenly suspicious. “Is that why you came?”
“I came because I was staying with Simon and he said you worked here, and I was really intrigued to see you again.”
“I won’t go out with you,” Lindsey said. “I’ve got a man in my life. Much more caring and understanding than you could ever be.”
“I’m really pleased for you,” Niall said.
“So what about you?”
“Nothing much. I’m not working at the moment.”
“I could try to get you a job here!”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
“That would be great.”
“Would it?”
“Yes. I’ll speak to HR.” Juliette would be thrilled, Niall thought.
“I’ve been following this story about the eye transplant,” he said, deciding to force the issue. “Have you?”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“Is BAB involved with that?”
“It’s huge here. It’s brilliant publicity. They’ve put loads of money into it. They think it’s going to catch the imagination of the public. Every time it’s been mentioned in the press donations have doubled for the week.”
“Right.”
“Not that that’s what it’s about,” Lindsey said quickly. “It’s a wonderful breakthrough. So much better than artificial robot eyes. Long term they’re hoping to grow eyes from stem cells which will truly open it up to everyone. You might get some.”
“I’ll be too old by then.”
“Most people don’t go blind until they’re old.”
“True.”
Their conversation went on another half an hour but Niall learnt little more of value. He used Hugo’s bowels as an excuse to get away, and found his way back to the street. With a little help from Hugo and a member of the public he unearthed a bench in a nearby square and sat down. A busker was playing a flute somewhere, and, despite the obvious noise of traffic all around, it was as if London held its breath to listen.
He needed to take stock of where he was and where he was going. He was sure that if he could put together the alternative, dark side of the transplant business, the cynical use of it as a publicity stunt, he’d be able to sell his story to one of the papers that had lost the bidding war for Susannah’s eye-witness account. But the story needed focus. It needed something far more selfish and scandalous than cynicism. To find it he needed to delve deeper. Perhaps he should let Lindsey swing him a job at BAB. So long as it didn’t involve conning old women out of their savings.
Niall hated moments of self-doubt, but he was having one now. What did he actually know about freelance journalism? What did he know about journalism at all outside the ornamental fishpond that was local radio? Essentially he now had no home, no job, no woman, was a long way from his Mum, and was taking advantage of the kindness and gullibility of his one really good friend. He ruffled Hugo’s ears.
He pressed his watch and it announced that it was eleven twenty-seven with exaggerated self-importance. He wondered what time Susannah Leman’s operation was, he knew it was today; what new world awaited her, a world of colour and light, faces, trees and sunsets.
Angry at himself he stood up, but at that point his phone rang. Simon’s ringtone.
“Hi Simon.”
“Hi. Where are you?”
“In the middle of some square in Knightsbridge. It’s nice.”
“Right. I just thought I’d tell you what I’d found.”
“Go ahead.”
“I managed to access the system they’ve got for spying on staff internet use and email traffic.”
“You criminal.”
“I think they should look at it more often.”
“Yeah, right, OK, fine, but…?” Niall tried to hustle Simon along.
“The Deputy Director General, Daniel Sullivan, has exchanged a load of emails about the eye transplant with loads of people, including someone at Moorfields.”
“Who?”
“Somebody going under the name of d.clark.”
“Who is?”
“No idea. But two of the emails refer to a meeting at Number Seventeen.”
“Which is where?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”
“Why?”
“They could have met at BAB. They could have met at Moorfields.”
“Number Seventeen could be a club or a posh restaurant.”
“No. I Googled it. Two million hits, no London restaurant. And if it was an address, wouldn’t he give the name of the street?”
“Not if it was a place they both knew.”
“Sullivan also sent an internal email to the Director of Finance, John Holthouse, saying the meeting at Number Seventeen was on.”
“It’s flimsy, Simon, flimsy. But I suppose it might be worth a bit of digging.”
“I think so.”
“God knows how exactly.”
“You’re the journalist.”
“Yeah.”
“How was Lindsey?”
“Purgatory.”
Simon laughed.
FOUR
Susannah became aware of darkness, and, as she did so, she wondered whether she had ever been aware of darkness before. Annoyingly, she couldn’t decide. So, the operation was over. She had survived.
“I think she might be awake,” she heard her mother say. “Susie?”
She had to decide whether to be awake or not. It was something you could do when you were blind. Part of her wanted a bit more solitude, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Mum?”
“Hello darling. How are you feeling? They say the operation went really well.”
She started to lift a hand to her face, became aware of wires or tubes, put it down again, and as she did so felt bile rising in her throat.
“I think I’m going to be –” she vomited
before she could finish.
“It’s the anaesthetic, darling,” her mother said. “It happens to everyone.”
Nurses mopped her up, put a bucket or basin by her head in case it happened again. Which it did. Four times, and yet she’d eaten nothing for what had seemed like days.
“Poor darling,” a nurse whose voice she didn’t recognise said.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“It’s nearly midnight, darling. You’re in the Intensive Care Unit. The operation went really well apparently. Mr. Daghash’s on his way. He asked to be paged as soon as you woke up.”
Weird. The last thing she remembered it had been early afternoon. All those hours lost, and yet they were hours when she had been the centre of several people’s attention, hours that might change her life. It was really quite scary that you could be put to sleep. For as long or as short a time as the doctor wanted. Perhaps that was why doctors frightened her.
“I think I’m a bit tired,” she said.
“Try to stay awake for Mr. Daghash,” her mother said. Her mother’s parents – Susannah’s grandparents – were Danish, and sometimes her mother’s voice contained a hint of the accent still. It was the apple element in the blackberry and apple and it was always more evident when she was tired or under strain. Which she obviously was now. Susannah suddenly wondered how her parents had met, wondered why she had never wondered before. She had accepted so much of her life, in fact all of it, without question. Her family was just her family. She’d never wondered what their lives had been like before they had been saddled with a blind child, never wondered whether they had resented the way everything had had to change once she was born. It was she herself who was almost certainly the cause of the strain she was so often aware of in her mother, the anger she so often heard in her father. No wonder they had been so keen to put her forward for the operation. It was for her, but it was also for them.
The door opened and she smelt Mr. Daghash.
“Susie!” He came to the bed and squeezed her hand. “My brave girl.” Mr. Daghash would be a kind father to his children. If he had any. “Everything has gone extremely well. The neurological tests suggest that everything is working as we would want it to be working, and in the morning, after you have rested, we shall unveil your new face. Then you must start to learn to use the muscles that will make you see properly.”
I’ve got two foreign bodies in my head, Susannah thought. Two eyes that spent years seeing for somebody else who had a life that was tragically cut short, and now they’re starting a new life with me. What dreams, what visions will they bring with them from their past?
“You’re sleepy, I know,” Mr. Daghash said. “I will leave you to rest. I just had to see you to tell you how it had gone, how it couldn’t have gone better.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said. “For your courage. For your determination.”
What courage? What determination? They had changed her life and yet they knew nothing about her.
Three times that night Lindsey had rung Niall. He had seen with Erica’s help that it was her and let it go to voicemail. Then refused to listen to it. Endured Simon’s exaggerated hilarity at his discomfort.
“You couldn’t resist giving her your number then?”
“She asked for it. She’s a potentially useful contact. She said she had a life and that life had a man in it.”
“‘Niall, I will always love you,’” Simon squawked nasally. “You walked back into her life and turned everything on its head.”
“I don’t believe it,” Niall said. “She seemed so much more together.”
“It’s the power you have over women,” Simon said.
“Why is she the only one that feels it then?” Niall asked.
“Because you were meant for each other. Soul-mates.”
“Stop it,” Niall said angrily.
His phone rang again. Erica had gone to bed.
“It’s her,” he said.
“It’s one a.m.,” Simon said.
“Why the Hell isn’t she in bed?”
“Perhaps she is.”
“Shut up.”
“Just answer it. You’re not going to get any sleep until you do.”
Niall growled.
“Hello?” he said, trying to sound as if he had just woken up.
“Niall, thank God.” It was Lindsey. Upset.
“What?”
“Did you get my messages?”
“Sorry, no, there’s a problem with my voicemail. Lindsey, it’s the middle of the night.”
“I’m getting the sack.” She sobbed.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry Niall. I realise you were asleep but I just didn’t know who else to talk to.”
“OK, OK.” Niall settled himself more comfortably into the sofa. “What about loverboy?”
“He can’t be here tonight.”
“Right.”
“This is just as humiliating and embarrassing for me as it is boring for you I can assure you.”
“No, Lindsey, I’m sorry. What’s happened?”
“At the end of the day HR asked to see me. They told me that one of the people I visited had made a complaint about me. And I was going to be suspended while it was investigated.” The tears were making her voice break up. It was quite difficult to hear what she was saying.
“What’s the complaint?”
“They won’t tell me.”
“So how are you supposed to defend yourself?”
“Niall, whatever it is, I’ve never done anything. I’ve visited people, I’ve done the job and I’ve left. I can’t even begin to imagine what I might have been accused of, because I’ve not done anything wrong. Almost in my entire life. You know me.”
“You had under-age sex with me.”
“Niall this is serious.”
“I know. Lindsey, I’m – flabbergasted. I’m speechless, and you know that doesn’t happen often.”
“Apparently, they have to investigate it and then decide if it’s serious enough to need a disciplinary hearing.”
“So maybe it won’t.”
“It was just the way Juliette looked at me. It was almost like she was giving me the opportunity to resign.”
“Not Juliette Warwick?”
“Yes. She’s the one who’s doing the investigation. She said she was sorry.”
“The people person.”
“Mm?”
“Nothing. Lindsey, I’ll come over tomorrow. Where do you live?”
“In an annexe of my parents’ house in Harrow. I can’t tell them though.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“It would break their hearts.”
“They’ll support you. They’ll believe in you.”
“Niall I can’t. They’re going on holiday in three days’ time. I’ve just got to go through the motions for three days. When they come back maybe I’ll’ve found something else. Or moved out. Or killed myself.”
“No, Lindsey. No. How long are they going for?”
“Three weeks. Cruising somewhere. Alaska or something.”
“OK. Come here in the morning. Simon would love to see you.”
“What?” Simon interjected, but it was too late. With profuse thanks Lindsey let Niall ‘go back to sleep’ and rang off.
“Now how weird is that?” Niall said.
“What?”
“I go to visit her, we talk about the eye transplant, who knows who was listening, and by the end of the day they’ve got her out of the place.”
Niall explained the circumstances to Simon.
“Maybe she has done something stupid,” Simon said.
“Can you really imagine it? Lindsey not doing everything by the book? And it’s just the coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidence,” Niall said decisively.
“But you’ll never find out who was listening.”
“Lindsey’s got some sight,” Niall said. “She
might be able to remember who was close by. She’ll know what part of the office we were in at least.”
“But that’ll mean telling her about your story.”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll have to,” Niall said thoughtfully. “But this has made it all a lot more interesting.”
“You heartless bastard.”
“No, but it’s decidedly suspicious.”
“I’d say it was flimsy,” Simon said. Niall threw a cushion at him. Shortly afterwards, Simon went up to bed, Niall undressed, fished out his sleeping bag from behind the television, and stretched out on the sofa to think things through. He fell asleep.
Lindsey arrived at half past eight the next morning, causing a certain amount of consternation in the household. Niall had quickly realised that until the three working women had left the building it was best to lie still and pretend they hadn’t woken him. Hugo hadn’t worked that out and he seemed positively to enjoy getting under their feet in the kitchen until one of them locked him out in the back yard. Between swearing at the dog, swearing at the time, thundering up and down stairs, swearing at hair straighteners, mirrors and other inanimate objects whose fault it obviously was that they hadn’t got enough time to get ready, there was really very little likelihood of sleeping through the girls’ breakfast.
Lindsey’s ring on the doorbell provoked another volley of swearing, and then Erica burst into the lounge.
“Niall, there’s a girl and a dog at the door. You need to wake up and deal with it.” Her heels clopped into the kitchen and one of them said something about not choosing to live in a hostel for blind people.
“Niall?” He heard Lindsey calling from the hallway. He was only wearing boxer shorts and that was not how she was going to see him. He groped around for his jeans, located a t-shirt, pulled that on, found the jeans under the coffee table, scrambled into them and stood up as Lindsey called him for the third time.
“I’m here. Come in. Door on the left.”
Jessie brought her in.
“You found it all right then?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll get you a drink in a minute, when the girls have gone out.”
“Trust you to be living with three girls.”
“It’s Simon, not me.” Niall started to gather his thoughts, realising that his breath probably stank as he hadn’t cleaned his teeth and his hair was sticking out ludicrously because he hadn’t had a chance to deal with it. “I didn’t realise you’d be quite so early,” he said.
Eyes of the Blind Page 3