‘Number seven is Switzerland …’
‘Ha!’ said Beth with feeling in Jack’s right ear, making the compere turn his attention to Jack’s table.
‘Did you get that one, Jack?’ asked the compere, his ruddy face in a beaming smile. ‘Seeing as you’re the school IT specialist.’
Beth sat with her arms folded and her eyebrows high, radiating smugness – she was enjoying this. Jack looked from Beth to the compere.
‘Uh, no. We got that one wrong, I’m afraid.’
‘I didn’t,’ grumbled Beth, as she took a swig of her drink.
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Jack but before Beth could ask him to repeat what he’d said the answers for nine and ten were being read out.
‘Nine, South Africa and ten, Monaco.’
A huge grin spread across Jack’s face. ‘Monaco, not Morocco. Do you have something you’d like to say?’
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Beth. Jack looked complacent.
‘Another drink? To show there’s no hard feelings.’ Jack was already on his feet. ‘You need to stay for the results – we might have won sausages!’
Beth shook her head. Had she misheard him with all the babble in the pub?
Jack returned with the drinks. ‘Petra says I need to play nice,’ he said, tilting his head towards the bar where Petra was wagging a finger in his direction as well as giving him a sultry wink.
‘She’s right,’ said Beth, taking her drink.
‘Look, it’s the school holidays so I have a few days to myself. Would you like a hand with the cottage?’
‘I don’t think I’m ready for my IT to be installed just yet but thanks.’
‘I meant taking the boards down and stuff. I renovated my place but, mind you, it wasn’t as neglected as Wilf’s.’
‘What makes you think I need your help?’ Beth’s tone was waspish.
Jack looked taken aback. ‘I’ve seen Wilf’s place and from the car you arrived in I’m guessing you’ve not got a ladder stashed in there?’
Smartarse, thought Beth. She was tussling with her defences, which were on high alert following Nick but at the same time her common sense told her this was a genuine offer, not an attempt to patronize her.
‘Will everyone please stop calling it Wilf’s.’ She knew she sounded prickly. ‘Sorry, but it’s really annoying.’
Jack sipped his Guinness. ‘I think you’ll find it’ll be Wilf’s for a while yet. People round here take time to adjust to change. The bungalows where Ernie lives are always referred to as the “new” bungalows. They were built in 1975!’
‘Blimey,’ said Beth, feeling more than a little silly for her outburst.
‘The offer of help is there if you want it. Do you usually get people in?’
Beth sipped her drink again and shook her head. What was Jack talking about? She’d never done this before.
‘I assumed you renovated places for a living?’ he added.
Duh! thought Beth. The alcohol was letting her guard down. The last thing she wanted to do was start giving away information about her previous life. She shook her head theatrically. ‘I do get people in for anything structural but this is my first project like this. Usually it’s more of a general spruce up; painting and decorating, interior design. That sort of thing.’ She took a deep breath, she found lying was quite uncomfortable.
‘Right,’ said Jack, looking satisfied with the explanation. ‘So, do you want a hand then? I’m free tomorrow.’
Beth was taken aback by the offer. She could say no but that wouldn’t be making a stand for independent womankind; it would be cutting off her nose to spite her face.
‘I know that’s probably the Guinness talking but I’m going to say yes, please.’
Simon, Melvyn and Audrey already had their cardigans on ready to leave as the compere started up again. ‘Third place are the Village Idiots.’ Beth leaned forward to get a look at that team because, quite frankly, that could be half the village. ‘Second place tonight and only three points behind the winners was the Quizzly Bears. Sorry, Maureen.’ Everyone looked over to where Maureen was downing her pint with a face like a thundercloud.
‘And the winners are … The Spanish Inquisition.’
Jack jumped up, narrowly missed knocking over the glasses as the other team members started shaking hands. Melvyn and Audrey got up to leave.
‘I’m guessing that’s us then,’ said Beth, as Jack gave her a huge bear hug and then instantly looked rather awkward and pulled away. ‘First time we’ve won since Easter.’ He looked genuinely thrilled and Beth had to admit that she too was feeling quite pleased with herself. The compere came over to hand out the prizes.
‘Um, thanks,’ said Beth, as she really didn’t know what else to say when someone hands you a dozen pork sausages.
Fergus had lost his hearing due to contracting a severe case of mumps as an adult. He had spent the first year after it happened confined to his old flat. A lot of it was shock at the sudden loss of a primary sense but with that comes fear and erosion of self-confidence. Losing his ability to communicate had made him feel cut off and frustrated. Even simple tasks were suddenly much harder and took more effort, for example trying to find out information was no longer just a phone call away. Fergus was shocked too by the number of people who treated him like he was mentally slow just because he couldn’t hear.
He had made a positive move when he had joined a British Sign Language course and the added bonus had been falling for one of the tutors, Carly. She had introduced him to the deaf community and all the support that brings from people that actually know what it’s like to be in the same situation. Although his experiences were different from those who’d encountered discrimination all their lives he had found learning sign language immediately expanded his social group and set him on the road to recovery. Sadly, some people never do manage to adjust to such a trauma but, with support and all the latest gadgets, Fergus had slowly progressed and was now living again.
This meant engaging in all aspects of normal life including arguing with your partner. Carly found it was exceedingly difficult to have a row with a deaf person. No matter how competent you were at sign language you couldn’t get the words out quickly enough and if they chose to look away the argument was over. Fergus was looking perplexed and kept signing ‘sorry’, which was probably because he felt she was overreacting a little to the fact that he’d used the last tea bag but, after a sleepless night, Carly was desperate for a cuppa. All of her frustration at the non-proposal was flooding out into tea-gate. She added a couple of digs about him playing games all day and not getting dressed, then grabbed her bag and stormed out. She slammed the door behind her. He wouldn’t hear it but it was likely the vibration would convey her level of annoyance.
She stood outside the flat door and screamed. It was a primal scream that went on long enough to make a front door open to check what the matter was, which for London, where everyone kept themselves to themselves unless something disastrous had happened, was quite exceptional.
‘Sorry,