“The day before she came out that clown of a journalist said something about being a new person and Susannah – Miranda – just came out with it. Told her assembled loved ones that Susannah was gone and they should call her Miranda from now on. You’ve met her family, you can imagine the response. Roderick Leman doesn’t compute emotional trauma. He told her to stop talking rubbish. She cried. Her mother cried. Then her sister weighed in with the fact that she thought she’d’ve been more grateful for everything that everyone had done, instead of wallowing in self-pity. She’d had an operation that nobody else in the world had had, and the ‘right reaction’ as she put it, was to be thrilled about it. Idiot journalist doesn’t know which way to look. Not sure if this is good copy or whether it gets in the way of his feel-good happy family story.”
“You were there?” Niall interposed.
“I was there. Shocked into silence, if you can imagine that.”
“No, but I know how you can be silent when you want other people to talk.”
“Except that what I really wanted was for them all to shut up and listen to her. But it just doesn’t seem to be about her at all.”
“I got that impression when I was there,” Niall said. “Does make you wonder how she came to be chosen.” The story that had never quite been a story stirred and shook itself at the back of his mind.
“I imagine blood group will have had a fair amount to do with it,” Faith said. “But I agree with you that there must have been a shortlist and there’s no way Susannah would have got herself on it.”
“There had to be money involved,” Niall said.
“Sad but true,” Faith said. “And that presumably was what you were trying to discover.”
“Yes, but I realised I didn’t really know where to start,” Niall admitted.
“So the next day she emerged like some frightened animal coming out of hibernation. But the thing is, Niall, she’s not a frightened animal. She’s a plucky little fighter who has suddenly been given the means and opportunity to see that her family have abused her her entire life and she has a right to a personality.”
“Abused her?” Niall asked.
“Not physically,” Faith replied. “Just by treating her as a poor little second-class citizen who wasn’t entitled to opinions or an independent life.”
“I did wonder about the dad,” Niall said.
“Vile but I don’t think he’s an abuser,” Faith said. “I have a bit of a radar for that, but, well – no, I don’t think so. Jamal took a lot of the pressure off her in the media scrum outside Moorfields, and then, having survived that, you’d have thought she might have gone home to quiet recuperation. But of course that wasn’t what any of them really wanted.”
“No.” Niall slurped raspberry tea.
“She wanted to manage her own medication but her mother didn’t think she was capable. The father, would you believe, employed an agent for her. I think he has visions of her being on every reality TV show going and BAB really aren’t that far behind him. I’ve been totally sickened by the whole thing, believe me.”
“Poor kid,” Niall mused.
“I told her she could call me day or night if she needed to, and I’m very glad I did. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found out that they confiscated her phone.”
“Unbelievable,” Niall said.
“She called me a few times, always late at night, when everyone was in bed, just to go through the events of the day really, tell me how she was feeling. It was the third or fourth call when she told me for the first time that she thought her sight was failing. She was getting moments of complete blackout and others where things were just losing focus. She mentioned that more in passing than anything, because she was far more upset about the way her family were treating her. They really didn’t want her to be any more or any different from what she’d always been. They vetoed any kind of independence. She had a stand-up row with her mother, and the sister got it into her head that she was using her phone to call you and that you were putting all this attitude into her head. I only found that out much later when I saw her at Moorfields.
“So the sister started listening in secret outside her bedroom door at night, and she heard her talking to me, only she thought it was you. The next day she and the mother launched a commando raid and took her phone off her. We think her father has it locked in an office at work, if he hasn’t thrown it away. But it still rings when you call it. I think they’re hoping you’ll keep ringing and ringing and she won’t answer and in the end you’ll get the message.”
“Hysterical,” Niall said.
“The first couple of days I thought nothing of it. Thought – hoped – that the reason she wasn’t calling was because things were getting better. But on the third day, when I hadn’t heard anything I phoned the house and spoke to the mother. She told me everything was fine but they were a bit worried about Susannah’s eye-sight. I said she had stopped calling me and I could tell straight away that the woman was flustered. She said something about losing the phone or the signal not being very good or there being something wrong with it. Changed her story three times in the space of a minute and seemed to be totally unaware that I’d ever had the number.
“Well, you know me, Niall. Next day I went down to the house. It’s why I bought the SatNav actually. I don’t know my way round Surrey. I arrived to find them bundling her into an ambulance because she’d woken up blind and I think they panicked that all their new-found fame was about to desert them.
“I think she’s happier in hospital. She gets some peace there.”
“So how is she now?” Niall asked. “Has her body rejected the eyes?”
“No,” Faith replied. “She’s lying in bed not getting up, they’re monitoring her medication, and the sight’s come back. The hospital staff all think someone screwed up the medication at home, and I can’t help fingering the sister. She’s a spiteful cow, pardon my French.”
“On purpose, you mean?”
“Yes. All that attention on your younger sister when you’re used to her just being part of the wallpaper.”
“That’s evil.”
“I’m afraid there is evil in human nature, Niall,” Faith said.
“So what are you planning?” Niall asked. “And how does it involve me?”
“Ah, well, yes,” Faith prevaricated, “now then. Miranda is – legally – an adult. I want to persuade her to come and stay with me when she comes out this time. The family will set up a hue and cry but – well – bugger them, frankly. They can’t stop her, if she chooses to do it. And she’ll be far more likely to choose to do it if she thinks you’re going to be there.”
“And the family will be even more pissed off,” Niall observed.
“Well yes,” Faith conceded. “I can’t deny that. But she can spend time with you, get to know Hugo, get to know who she is away from all the stress. It’s got to be for the best. And if you’re staying with me it won’t cost you anything and you won’t have to go back to Simon’s. We’re the only real back-up team she’s got, Niall. And she needs us. Come down for Christmas – I’m going to be on my own – and then stay on for a bit. What do you say?”
Niall thought for a moment.
“How can I refuse?” he said. “It’s a bloody generous offer and you’re great company. You’ll soon get fed up with having me around, though.”
“We’ll see,” Faith said.
“My Mum won’t be pleased,” Niall went on. “She thought I was going to hers for Christmas.”
“She could come down for a few days. I’ve got enough room.”
“Live in a palace, do you?”
“Not exactly, Niall, but it’s a big old London house with plenty of floors.”
“Well,” Niall said, “you are a woman of mystery.”
“Not really,” Faith said. “I don’t expect you to drop everything and come with me now, but if you let me know what day you’re planning on coming down I’ll come and get you. You can give me something towards the pet
rol – it’ll be cheaper than a train ticket.”
“OK,” Niall said. “But you’ve come all this way. Are you just going to turn round and go back?”
“No, I’ve got some friends who live near Monmouth, and I’m going to stay with them for a couple of days. It’s a nice run down the A49 from here.”
“Won’t need your SatNav for that then?” Niall quipped.
“Only to get me out of Telford,” Faith retorted. “It’s worse than the labyrinth at Cnossos.”
On the 20th of December Niall found himself travelling down to London with his mother. She had agreed to drive down, stay until Christmas Eve, and then go back up to Telford to her husband, leaving Niall behind. She had appreciated Faith before Niall had been able to, and a friendship had grown up between the two women that had continued throughout Niall’s childhood and adolescence and into the present time.
Niall sat in the car letting his mother’s Motown music wash over him, reflecting on what he was going back to in London. Miranda Leman. To his surprise, he found he was excited at the prospect of seeing her again. In fact, he had been able to think of little else since Faith’s visit. Having any kind of admirer was such a rare event for him he really had to make the most of it. He was excited at the thought of crossing swords with her father again. And in a part of his mind he was reviewing what he recalled of his research into BAB. Perhaps he hadn’t been wrong. Perhaps what he’d identified as suspicious circumstances actually were suspicious.
Which led him to thinking about Lindsey Spencer. He ought to call her. Tell her he was back in town. Find out what had happened. But after the manner of their last parting he wasn’t at all sure that he could face it.
Then there was Simon. They could go out for a Christmas drink and put any residue of awkwardness from his autumn visit behind them.
All in all, things were looking up.
TEN
Daniel Sullivan was enjoying a three-course lunch with BAB director of finance John Holthouse. In due course they would ask for two copies of the bill and both of them would put it through their expense accounts. Daniel loved eating in expensive restaurants, although he had no real palate for fine food. He delighted in committing culinary heresy by making a point of asking for tomato ketchup with the chef’s signature dish or a portion of frozen peas on the side. After showing himself up some twenty-five years ago with the cardinal wine faux pas of asking for red Liebfraumilch, he had made a point of studying enough to sound knowledgeable and order more or less what Hugh Johnson would recommend with every dish, whilst at the same time believing that the whole fine wine charade was a scam, and not being able to taste the difference between one and another. Price was generally an infallible guide.
“So how’s the little project?” Holthouse asked as the mains were cleared away and they both opted for cheese to finish their bottle of Chateau Talbot.
“It’s ongoing,” Daniel said. “Not helped by the fact that she’s flat on her back in a hospital bed, but I’m working round it.”
“I thought you wanted her flat on her back,” Holthouse said, smiling.
“I’m not going to shag her in Moorfields,” Daniel said. “I’ve only once had sex in that place. Tiny Filipina nurse who was so hot I couldn’t wait to get her somewhere more appropriate. Phenomenal energy. Phenomenal flexibility. I can see the attraction in these South Asian brides.”
“Russian girls,” Holthouse said. “They’re the best.”
“But Susannah,” Daniel said, reverting to the original topic because he liked talking about it, “is going to require a lot of patience. A lot of mise-en-scene. At the moment I’m just a kind man about the same age as her father. I’m not sure she even knows that sex exists. I shall have to educate her. I’m thinking Covent Garden. Use the DG’s box. All girls are barmy about ballet and she’ll’ve never seen one.”
“And she won’t see much of this one if all goes according to your wicked plan,” Holthouse said laughing.
“The lesson in sex will be strictly post-theatre,” Daniel replied. “Performance post-performance.”
“And talking of performance,” Holthouse quipped, “any Christmas Specials at Number Seventeen in the pipeline?”
“Number Seventeen nights may have to be moth-balled temporarily,” Daniel said.
“Disappointing,” Holthouse said. “Why?”
“Our hostess is entertaining other visitors over the Festive Season,” Daniel replied.
“Damn,” Holthouse exclaimed. “How inconsiderate.”
“You’ll have to fall back on Old Faithful,” Daniel said. Holthouse groaned.
“And you’ll have to be Father Christmas for the Fourth Mrs. Sullivan,” he retorted, “and give her a Christmas Night to remember.”
“Not if Miss Leman has been discharged,” Daniel said.
“We’re a couple of lovable rogues, aren’t we Sullivan?” Holthouse said. “They should turn our lives into a TV show.”
The cheese selection was brought to their table by the manager. They thought it was on account of their being considered important customers. In reality it was because all three of the waitresses working the shift, tired of being subjected to suggestive remarks and wandering hands, had refused to go near their table again.
“You’ve got visitors.”
Miranda looked up from a magazine. She had only just started to face up to the fact that she would have to learn to read all over again, and was mostly looking at the pictures as a way to flood her mind with new visual images that could be processed and help to make sense of her new world. If that new world was to be permanent. The return to Moorfields had made her realise how fragile her sight was. What an irony, she thought, that having lived in the blind world cotton-wool-cocooned by her parents, the price of continuing sight might be to live in a cotton-wool cocoon.
‘Visitors’ meant either her family or Daniel Sullivan or Matthew Long, so it was with no enthusiasm that she looked towards the door to see Faith ushering Niall into the room.
“Surprise!” he said.
“Wonderful surprise,” Miranda responded, her face transformed. “Christmas wish in fact. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“They told me your calls were being monitored,” Niall said smoothly.
“They were,” Miranda said, “but Faith went out and bought me an iPhone and none of them know I’ve got it. Yours and Faith’s are the only numbers I’ve programmed into it,” she admitted.
“You memorised my number?” Niall asked, surprised.
“I remember numbers,” Miranda said unabashed.
“Bloody Hell, Faith,” Niall said. “iPhone. What was it? Big win on the geegees?”
“I don’t win anything on the geegees since you stopped giving me tips for Ludlow,” Faith retorted.
“So how’s it going?” Niall asked, when Faith had settled him in a chair.
“Not so great,” Miranda said. “Faith’s probably told you.”
“She told me celebrity’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I’m just Celebrity Cash in the Attic as far as my family’s concerned.”
“That must be so tough,” Niall said, “when you thought your family really loved you.”
“I don’t think they don’t love me,” Miranda said. “They just don’t want to try to understand me. They thought when I got eyes it would be like flicking a switch and I’d be normal. They’d have a normal family. But at the same time they hadn’t bothered to think that I’d actually be different. I wouldn’t need their claustrophobic caring for me in the same way anymore. Then when it all started to go wrong they really panicked.”
“Why do you think it went wrong?” Niall asked. “Was it the medication?”
“That’s what they think here,” Miranda answered, “but they’re wrong. We fought over who was going to manage my medication but between all of us we never made a mistake. They’ve altered the dosage slightly since I’ve been back in here, but I think it was mostly stre
ss.”
“You certainly don’t need that right now,” Niall said.
“I’m sure that’s why they haven’t sent me home,” Miranda said. “There’s nothing the matter with me now. My eyesight’s the best it’s been yet. They say they’re monitoring me but I think they’re just keeping me away from my parents.”
“Which is why we’re here,” Faith said. “Well, one of the reasons.”
“You’ve come to take me home?” Miranda said, without any hope in her voice.
“We’ve come to offer you my home as a place to convalesce,” Faith said. “Don’t say anything now. Just think it over. You’re an adult, you are not obliged to go home to your family if you choose not to. You need to be somewhere where you can relax, start to enjoy life, build yourself up before you put yourself into the public eye. All this nonsense of the last few weeks was too much too soon, and hopefully your parents will realise it. I’m offering you a safe haven in which to get well. Niall’s staying with me at the moment and he’ll vouch for the fact that it’s not a bad place to be, I’m sure.”
“It’s brilliant,” Niall said.
“You’re so kind,” Miranda said, tears starting in her eyes.
“Jamal – Mr. Daghash – wanted me to look after you and be there for you when you went back out into the world,” Faith said. “I’m just trying to carry out his wishes.”
Faith and Niall stayed for an hour, and then left, promising to return on Christmas Eve to take her away, if that was what she wanted. Returning to Faith’s north London home Niall asked her about Miranda’s prognosis.
“Nobody really knows,” Faith said. “She’s a pioneer. Jamal certainly hoped that her body would accept the eyes with the right medication and she would then have normal vision for the rest of her life, subject to the usual deterioration. The spectre of chronic rejection was something that was always out there, but we all rather hoped it wouldn’t happen. Jamal was so disappointed when she was re-admitted.”
“But it wasn’t chronic rejection,” Niall said, “because now she’s seeing again.”
Eyes of the Blind Page 11