Page 94 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘How long have you been deaf?’ she asked.
‘Since I was about eighteen,’ replied Laura. ‘I had a brain tumour…everything’s fine now,’ she hastened to add. ‘Luckily for me, it wasn’t particularly nasty, it just decided to grow in a rather unfortunate place, that’s all. Come to think of it when you have a brain tumour, pretty much everywhere is unfortunate, but when it grew large enough to operate on, it had to come out. There was a substantial risk to my hearing, but a risk I had to take if I was to keep my other faculties.’
‘The lesser of many evils. Not a huge comfort I would imagine.’
‘It could have been worse,’ said Laura.
Freya nodded sadly. ‘I suppose,’ she agreed. ‘And would you normally sign…? If you had the choice, I mean.’
Laura smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said, her hands flashing in front of her. ‘It’s a lot easier…for me anyway.’
‘Maybe you could teach me,’ said Freya, wincing as the words came out of her mouth. ‘Or maybe I should just shut up and tell you about our wedding plans and what I had in mind for the flowers, and we can take it from there? I’ve brought one or two pictures I can show you too.’ She shot Laura an apologetic look and was pleased to see she looked a little relieved. One thing at a time, Freya reminded herself, one thing at a time.
‘We could go inside if you like,’ said Laura. ‘There’s a small room at the side of the church with a table and chairs, and you could show me what you’ve brought.’
Freya followed Laura who led the way to a small anteroom just off the main entrance. Boris loped in by her side and immediately made for the only rug in the room beneath the small oak table. She gave a little shiver which had nothing to do with the coolness of the building, but instead to a flowering of nerves in the pit of her stomach. She would be here in three short weeks, walking through the huge oak door as a bride and leaving an hour later as Sam’s wife. Between now and then there was an extraordinary number of things to attend to, and even though it wasn’t a big wedding, Freya wasn’t sure how on earth she would manage to pull it all off. If Laura would agree to help her, it would be a huge weight off her mind.
She sat down, waiting for Laura to follow suit before fishing in her bag for the photos she had brought.
‘These aren’t really right, but it’s the colours I like and the general look I’m aiming for.’ She straightened up, placing the pictures down on the table.
Laura sat looking at them, an expectant look on her face. It was only when a lengthening silence began to stretch out that Freya realised her mistake. She gently touched a hand to Laura’s arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, once Laura’s eyes were on her face. ‘I was talking at the same time as bending down. I forgot you wouldn’t hear me.’
Laura looked back at the pictures. ‘People have a tendency to talk to the thing they’re discussing, rather than each other. Tap the table or my arm when you’re going to speak, that way I know to look at you.’ She smiled. ‘I like these, though, except they’re a bit too regimented for my taste. Too confined. I like my arrangements to be more unstructured, messy even sometimes…’ She frowned. ‘Sorry, what was it you said?’
‘The same as you,’ answered Freya, feeling excited at the connection between them. ‘I like the colours of these, but they’re way too formal.’
Laura nodded. ‘And what are we talking about here, in terms of decoration I mean. What do you need help with? The church, your own flowers?’
Freya screwed up her face. ‘Erm…everything. The church yes, and my bouquet, but we’re having a marquee back at Appleyard for the reception as well, and I’d love to have flowers there too. In fact, not just flowers, but fruits, leaves, berries, that kind of thing.’
At the mention of the marquee, Laura’s eyes widened. She looked shocked, and yet Freya didn’t think it was extravagant, not by modern standards.
‘It won’t be huge, the marquee I mean. It’s just that we’ve nowhere else to put people. The barn is full of equipment, and—’
‘How many people will there be?’ interrupted Laura. She blanched suddenly, shooting backwards in her chair. Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Freya. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have come.’
Laura was almost at the door by the time Freya had registered her sudden change of mood. She struggled to get up, hampered by the straps of her bag which had become tangled in the chair leg.
‘Laura, wait!’ she shouted, without thinking. She looked beseechingly at Boris who looked rather startled at the sudden movement. ‘Can’t you stop her?’ she asked. There was nothing for it but to chase after her. God, Laura was fast.
She was halfway down the path before Freya caught up with her, catching at her arm as gently as she could. She turned Laura to face her and was horrified to see that tears had already stained her pale face.
‘Whatever is the matter?’ she asked. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Laura stared at her as if unseeing.
‘It’s my fault. I should never have come,’ she hiccupped. ‘All the villagers, all those people…’
Freya was confused now. ‘What people? Who are you talking about, Laura?’
Laura’s eyes searched her face for answers. ‘In the marquee, and at the church. Everywhere. I can’t be with those people,’ she said, shuddering.
It wasn’t so much what she said but the way she said it which struck a chord with Freya. Being shy was one thing, but this was something entirely different. She recalled Laura’s words of a couple of days ago. How she wouldn’t visit the churchyard at the weekend because there were too many people, how she wasn’t very good with folk since…a sentence that had never been finished. Freya could understand Laura feeling awkward in company. Deafness was not visible on the outside, and her life must be full of misunderstandings and apologies, judgements made, often incorrectly, as people mistook Laura’s silence or lack of response for rudeness. But feeling awkward, although understandable, was not the issue here; it went much deeper than that. Laura was afraid.
Without thinking Freya reached out and pulled Laura in towards her, wrapping her arms around the tiny figure but saying nothing. It was an instinctive gesture, and Freya, not prone as yet to maternal feelings, was surprised by it; but there was something about Laura that was so gentle, so vulnerable, and although they were of a similar age, it touched something deep inside Freya. At first, she thought she had made a massive error as Laura’s whole body went taut, but almost immediately she inhaled a huge shuddering breath and her arms clung to Freya’s coat as she fell against her.
