A Glass of Milk

A Glass of Milk

Its never easy for the downtrodden, but Ive learned that its just as tough for the people around them. I realised this a long time ago in my job as a social carerI’ve been working in the sector eight years now. Over time, Ive become lean, sharper, and perhaps, a little too sarcastic, especially if anyone dared to criticise my work. And who are you to judge me? Id ask, glaring so fiercely from behind my copper fringe with my piercing green eyes that most people would scarper before they could think up another question. Some folks used to say I just took off at a run for no particular reason. Thats why people started calling me Vera Chum.

All these years, Ive shopped for groceries for my clients, cleaned their flats if needed, and found a way to get along with everyone. There was just one conflict an old chap gave me a chocolate bar. It was strictly against the rules to accept gifts, and I never had, but that day I slipped a moment of weakness, thinking it would be rude to refuse. I ended up taking the chocolate home but couldnt eat it. I gave it to the boy next door, and when the old man offered something next time, I turned him down. He soon complained to social services: Chocolates arent enough for these carers these days, theyre waiting for an envelope of cash They nearly sacked me, but I didnt fight it. Go ahead and sack me. Im not some doormat to be trampled on! In the end, it was the clients who stood up for me, including Ann Foster. Id always liked Ann, but after that, she became like the sister I never had.

We shared a similar lotboth orphaned young. Ann had been disabled since childhood, while I, outwardly healthy, am wounded deep inside, always wary and close to tearssomething only Ann half-understood. The thing that truly brought us together: neither of us had any children. Id grown to accept it, but Ann hadnt given up hope. She liked to chide me for wallowing. Lately, shed toughened up, especially since she started rehearsing at the local disability arts group for a concert. At first, Ann didnt want anything to do with the performance, especially since Father Luke, the local vicar, tried to talk her out of it. He regularly visited Ann on holidays with prayers and gifts and thought her embroidery hobby was the perfect pursuit. Anns fingers werent nimble, but she was determined. Starting with small napkins and handkerchiefs, she progressed to adorning a linen dress with intricate floral embroidery and bright, strange emerald birds. So talented was she, the dress was sent to the county folk art fair where it won first prize and, on the last day, actually soldwith Anns consent, of course. The sum was rather niceover £300. Ann rang me in tears; it was her first-ever earnings, and she hadnt a clue what to do with the money.

Dont fret, well find a use for it! Id laughed. Lets buy you a few more dressesenough work for a year at least. Otherwise, youre just sitting there, brooding over things you shouldnt.

Ann said nothing, but I could see the hurt. She had started to long for marriage. Shed watched enough rom-coms to know all about couples, about the magic of being married, but her circumstances limited her to dreaming.

After the fair, Ann got a call from the arts centre, inviting her to join the dance workshop for a duet. How is that even possible? Ann said, flustered, and hung up, assuming it was some cruel joke. But they rang again, urging her to give it a goif it didnt work out, no pressure. Youre a prizewinner now, a strong womans voice insisted, the times come to show the world what youre made of. Well get you a companion for rehearsals.

And who will that be? Ann inquired.

Someone like yourself We’ve several couples like this. In this country, nobodys left behindeveryone can find something to do! The formidable woman barely let Ann get a word in.

So, I suppose I can try Ann sighed.

Good! Im Margaret Josephs, the head of the studio. Be ready after lunch tomorrowa special bus will collect you.

Sure enough, the next day at the appointed hour, a grim bus driver with an intimidating close-cropped moustache arrived and took Ann (who for once left her hat offworried about her freshly curled blonde hair, done up by yours truly before the trip). On board was a man in a wheelchair. As it turned out, this was Anns dance partnerAlex Spencer. Embarrassed, Ann shook his strong hand, astonished by the feeling.

On arrival, the driver and I helped Ann into the building and up the ramp to the rehearsal hall; Alex managed his wheelchair with assurance.

The first rehearsal was a shambles. They sweated and blushed, attempting basic moves, too self-conscious under the gaze of the svelte, dragonfly-like dance instructor and quick, energetic Margaret Josephs. But they persevered. Month after month, twice a week, I went with Ann to every rehearsal.

Through autumn and winter, Ann devoted herself to dance instead of embroidery; she couldn’t imagine life without those rehearsalsshe loved them as much as a cherished job.

Today was another rehearsal day. I must admit, I wasnt cheerful. Ann noticed and said:

Why the long face?

Nothing, I replied, hiding my mood.

She tried to change the subject. Were only forty, you know! We could start families yet!

That old song again. I was married once, Annseven years, and then he had enough. Cant blame him really. Its my penance, chasing after lads as a girl. My parents never lived to see their grandchildren.

If I were you, Id marry againseveral times, if needed!

Not another lecture!

If you dont want to marry, you know, you can have a child through you know, IVF.

That costs plenty! You think I make much as a carer?

I heard on telly its now free for qualifying women.

Well talk later So, what are you wearing today?

You never even hear me out. The pink jumper and grey skirt.

You could wear your stage dress at least oncethe long oneget used to it.

Ill change for the dress rehearsal. Dont want to ruin it on the bus!

On the eve of the dress rehearsal, we practised longer than usual. Once home, I wheeled Ann in, helped her undress, bathed hershe chattered away excitedly the whole time.

Afterwards, wrapped in her robe, Ann sat in the kitchen while I made tea and set out some biscuits. But she ignored the sweets, instead, she asked, How was it for you your first time?

My first time?

With a man Ann clarified, blushing.

I dont remember.

Dont fib. You were married after all. And what about Nick?

He was around two months after the divorcefound someone younger. Nothing to envy, believe me, I replied curtly.

I think Alex likes me, Ann blurted out. He looks at me in a certain way.

Brunettes always like blondes. Youre better off not thinking about it. Dont get carried away, youll regret it.

So what was it like?

Nothing I want to discuss. Drink your tea and get some restyoure looking pale.

Ann fell silent. I could see she was drifting into the blues Id warned her about. I quickly washed up and made to leave. Ill lock up. Anything you want from the shops tomorrow?

You know, Ann muttered, closing her eyes.

Get a good sleepweve got the dress rehearsal tomorrow!

Ann didnt reply.

Thats what dancing does to you! I said aloud, and stopped myself just short of adding, Youll go quite barmy at this rate!

Out in the cold, I thought differently: Maybe I should find her someone to meet. Folks think these lot can’t do much for themselves, but the way shes envied me over Nick! I shouldve kept my mouth shut.

Once Id left, Ann regretted snapping at me, though I could be a pain myself. Who else was she going to share her feelings with? Shame I cant write poetry, Ann thought, a tear burning in her chest, else Id pour my heart out in verse.

She tried to push thoughts of Alex away, but he kept creeping into her mindthose tidy dark locks, deep brown eyes. On early rehearsals Ann constantly feared falling during the waltz but soon realised there was nothing to fear when Alex was with her. With each success, praise became more frequent. Well done! the choreographer would say, making Ann feel like a schoolgirland she loved it.

She mastered the routine and grew comfortable with Alex, myself sat in the hall, even the comical electrician who fiddled with lights backstage.

Thinking about tomorrows dress rehearsal, Ann worried if it would go well. More so, she worried what would come after the concert. Would she ever get a real date with Alex? Or would this remain the highlight of her happinesshaving rehearsals to look forward to?

In the morning, Ann spread out her performance dressdeep purple, beaded with sequins that shimmered in her hands. She imagined what shed look like on stage, pushing aside fears of what the future might hold. The plan was simple: listen to the music, follow Alexno mistakes allowed.

Suddenly, my key rattled in the door.

Well, star, are you ready? I asked, masking concern with a half-smile.

Ready, I suppose just nervous!

Thats goodmeans youve a heart in you. Come on, lets get going.

We took ages, and even had the bus driver come early so Ann could change into her stage dress first and fight her shyness. When we arrived at the community centre, Ann felt eyes on themespecially as Alex wore a sharp black suit and a bow tieaccompanied, strangely, by a woman.

Backstage, Alex wheeled over, kissed Ann on the cheek. Dont worry, itll be fine.

Ann, cheeks burning, closed her eyes, flusteredsomeone touched her shoulder. She looked up; a lady leant on a stick nearby.

Dont worry, youll be great, came her gentle voice.

And you are? Ann ventured, heart sinking.

Alex rolled over and said, Ann, meet my wife, Susan.

Ann managed a nod, eyes falling on the wedding bandhow had she never noticed it before? Her dreams crumbled immediately, as if theyd belonged to another Ann. There wasnt enough air; the room spun.

Someone fetched me, and I recognised her distress.

Whats happened to Ann Foster? Margaret Josephs demanded, more rattled than Id ever seen her.

She needs to go home, I said firmly. Shes exhaustedcant you see?

She needs a doctor, not a rest! We havent worked for six months only for her to faint!

Regardless, Ann faintly opened her eyes but answered no onenot then, not in the bus home. Only as we reached her flat did she nudge me: Wheres Alex?

He stayed to dance as usual. Hell perform another piece. Youve done enough, Ann. Leave it beFather Luke was right about all this.

This stung, and Ann stopped talking to me.

When the driver and I got Ann into bed, dress and all, he cracked a rare smile: All done, then? he asked.

All done. Thank you, and off you go, I told him, shooing him out the door. Sitting next to Ann, I tried to get the truth out: Will you tell me what happened?

After a long, tearful pause, Ann said it: Alex is married.

I nearly laughed at her tragedyimpressed, actually, that all this drama was over a married man.

So you had grand plans for him, did you? Got your hopes up?

Leave me alone! Go away, I dont want to see you ever again. I can manage without you! Youre a witch, Vera Chum!

If shed spat it, Id have been hurt, but instead, she squeakedas always. Still, her words cut deep, but what could I do? For all her faults, Ann had become as close as family to me.

I tried not to dwell on it. I almost resigned then and thereperhaps Id finally take the job at the nursery down the road; after all, Id trained as a nursery nurse and coped just fine back then. No one called me Chum there.

At home, I tried to make dinner, but was too drained from that exhausting rehearsal. I made tea and biscuits and collapsed on the sofa. I shut my tired eyes, a little sleep finally claiming me, though I was still half thinking of AnnLet her manage on her own for a day or twoshell see her laureates life isnt so easy after all.

Then the phone jolted me awake. Father Luke was on the line: Vera, you must come at once. Ann needs to go to hospital.

My heart stopped. I mustve left her flat unlocked in my rushsomething must be seriously wrong. I dashed outside, only to meet an ambulance along the way. At Anns block, I saw a police car, Father Luke, and a few neighbours.

Whats happened to Ann? I asked.

Suspected poisoning, Father Luke said, looking taller than ever in his black top hat. She called earlier, said she felt awful and wanted to see me. I entered, found her on the floor, unconscious, tablets scattered about Called the ambulance and the police.

A thin, dark-browed constable approached: Are you the next of kin of the victim?

Her carer. I visit regularly. Whats happened?

She tried to take her own life.

What for? Shes as gentle as an angel!

Someone must have pushed her to it. Well investigate. Do you have her keys?

I handed them over.

Come with me, please. We need to switch off the electrics, lock up, and seal the door. After, Ill need your statement down the station, he said.

I protested. She was fine an hour ago!

Not as fine as you think, it seems, he replied. Your statement will be checked against hers, if she pulls through.

He led me and two neighbours into the flat.

Unplug the fridge too, the constable said.

The food will go off! I objected.

Put it out on the balcony.

On my way, I found Anns mobile.

Ill bring her phone to hospital, at least?

Leave everything as it is.

I did as I was told, then, after the flat was sealed, thanked Father Luke and was taken to the police station to make my statement. The officer read it and smiled: All this over unrequited love?

What else, bless her?

Then weve nothing else to worry about. Off you go.

Rather than go home, I took a taxi to the hospital. The matron at A&E confirmed Ann had been admitted for poisoning and was, by then, conscious.

Shes in ICU, but is awake now.

Thank heavens! May I see her?

Not possiblemaybe in a few days. Hospitals under flu quarantine. You her sister?

Her friend

Good. We didnt think she had anyone.

Can I bring her wheelchair?

We have plenty of wheelchairs. Heres our number. Call before you visit, once shes moved wards.

I left, somewhat reassured but deeply lonelymy flat felt damp, freezing, and desperately empty. I watched my phone all night for a call that never came. The next day, I phoned my boss to update her about Ann and asked not to have my client list changed.

Shes still yours, dont worry! my manager said, well aware of the story.

Every day, I checked in with the hospital, but Ann never called. On day four, a woman rang: Are you Vera Chum? she asked briskly. This is the hospital. Im the nurse for Ann Foster. She wants you to come to her window. Shes on the second floor, third window from the left, central entrance, at 1pm.

Anything I can bring her?

Nothing. The hospitals on flu lockdown.

Not even flowers? The eighth of March was just yesterday!

Nothing at all, she said sharply.

After seeing two clients, I dashed to the hospital at lunch, stationed myself outside her window. For a long time, no one appeared. At last, Anns pale, thin face popped up; her eyes shone with relief. She tried to say something through the window panes, but it was impossibleso she flashed a piece of paper on which shed scribbled, SORRY. I waved, scowled at her for her wickedness, but inside felt a deep joyshed thawed, she wasnt angry now. I made a sign that it was time to go, waved goodbye, and walked away, heart lighter than it had been in months.

As I plodded through the slush, the warm sunlight spilled gold onto rooftops and the church spire. It struck me that spring was really here at last, and the worst was overleft behind in that seemingly endless, gloomy winter. The sense of renewal made me see the past days in a gentler light. There was nothing left to fret about. And, as a joyous tear or two streaked my cheek, I remembered Ann. That girl, I thought, stifling another laugh, she really is a troublesome old goatbut shes my troublesome goat.

Looking back now, I realise that caring for someone sometimes means walking into their storms, tolerating unfair words and sharp rejections. In the end, though, forgiveness brings you both back from the brink. Ive learned not to give up, or take harsh words to heart. Life truly does go on, even after broken dreams, and, most of all, the glass of milkforgiveness, kindness, a new daywill always be half full if we let it.