THE OTHER SIDE OF AVA

In the early hours of the morning, the telephone bell was shrill. Thinking it was my husband I rushed out the bathroom, towel drying my hair as I went. So confident was I of the likely caller, I answered:

“Hi, Sweetheart.” but did not get the response I was used to.

The silence was deafening then the voice I heard was slow and shaky.

“Ann?!” I caught my breath “it’s your Mummy. Can we talk?”

“No.” it sounded cruel but it was my answer. What is more, an answer that John and I agreed I would use should this scenario occur. I hung up knowing the tears were not far away. Fortunately, John wasn’t either, I could hear the front door open, he was home after an evening shift.

CIRCA 1968

I was eight years old. I stood in the cold darkness of my bedroom one afternoon, not sure what I had done, but Mummy was cross and threatened there would be no dinner. I had disappointed her again. I had done the dishes, swept the floor, made her cups of tea, but it was not good enough. Nothing was ever good enough for Mummy. She always had a headache at weekends, never schooldays. I looked at my schoolbag, remembering that I had done my homework.  There was a portion at the front of the bag for a name tag. Ann D Lawson. My middle name was Daisy, after Grandma, but I felt I should be Ann Dumb-dumb Lawson, Ann Dufus Lawson, Ann Demented Lawson, and then that other horrible D word disabled. Mummy always said I was disabled, Daddy said I was deaf that did not make me disabled. Daddy understood.  Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“Annie?” it was Daddy “can I come in?”

I rushed to the door and opened it. He lifted me in his arms and kissed me.

“You did a lot of work today, Ann I am proud of you.”

“Mummy was not happy,” I said the tears threatening.

“I know,” he said, “she has got a headache they are called migraine headaches, love.”

“I’m not allowed any dinner.” this time tears ran down my cheeks.

“Why?”

I don’t know I did all I….” oh the sobs.

“Shh,” he soothed then said, “I know; how would you like to go to the milk bar, and get some milk?”

“But.”

“I will deal with Mummy.” he ruffled my hair “don’t be too long…” he handed me the money “Here buy our favourite chocolate too, in case that’s all we get for dinner eh.”

When I came back and put the milk in the fridge, I saw Daddy and Mummy in the lounge room.

“No Ava, that is not Ann’s style.” Daddy was patient “she is a hard worker and she had homework to do. That must come first.”

“She can’t do anything properly.”

“Then show her how the job needs to be done to satisfy you.  Mind you, when last did you sweep the floor, or wash a dish?” she was horrified

“I can’t help her, she’s disabled.” Mummy was screaming.

“Ava she is deaf; so was Beethoven, Thomas Eddison Helen Keller, who incidentally, was blind too. All of them were successful, no one really remembers what they could not do, they focus on their successes. No, Ann will be having dinner with us, or me, and you go and nurse your bloody headache which if you remember, the doctor gave you tablets for.”

“They make me sick.”

“You make ME sick Ava; you are never satisfied.” He stood up “It’s bad enough that you treat me like dirt but to your only child?” He stormed out of the room.

I had never heard Daddy so cross; he just did not do cross. I was the cause of him being cross. Now I’d be a disappointment to him too. I let the tears run down my cheeks; the usual silent torment. Then, I thought of a way of appeasing her. I found my writing pad; sitting with my favourite pen and my tongue sticking out in concentration I wrote in my very best writing:

“Dear Mummy.

I am sorry I made you cross today.   I will try to do better. I love you Mummy

Ann”

I showed Daddy the letter.  He said nothing, but patted my shoulder, took the letter from me, went into their room, placing it on the bedside table.  Presently, Daddy stood beside me in the hall watching to see if there was to be a response.  Mummy stirred from her sleep saw the note, read it and crumpled the paper throwing it in the bin. Daddy reacted too; neither of us ate much that night. Was I always going to be a disappointment to Mummy?

I was ten years old when it was decided that Mummy would go to hospital and Grandma would stay and look after us. She took me to a doctor who arranged for a hearing test. It was yucky, but I was told that a hearing aid was available which would make things clearer for me. The big day came, and the aid was fitted. Doctor Bob said my beautiful hair would hide the magic soundbox and my beautiful smile was emerging. I asked him what the strange noise was that I hearing.

“What kind of noise, Ann? he asked patiently

“It’s a scratchy sound,”

He looked puzzled thought for a bit, smiled and said,

“Could it be this?” and he continued to fill the form on his desk with his pen.  I sat open-mouthed. I would have to get used to sounds like this, every day sounds like the pen scratching against paper. I might still be deaf, but no one need know; there again no one but Mummy made a big deal of it.

Eventually, Mummy came home for a week. It was Christmas time; the house was decorated and there were presents under the tree. I knew there were some for me from Mummy and Daddy, and Grandma too. Daddy helped me choose a lovely blue china plate for Grandma and a pink one for Mummy. Grandma helped me choose Daddy’s gift; he loved crossword puzzles and this book was enormous. I was so happy because I used some but not all of my pocket money.

Grandma loved the plate and hugged me. Blue was her favourite colour. I had not noticed that there was a daisy in the corner but Daddy had. I looked at him, horrified  He shook his head and smiled. That meant the pink plate did not have a daisy on it, I was relieved. Mummy hated daisies. Much later I discovered that Daddy had chosen my name, Mummy could not be bothered. I hoped it would have been the same had I been a boy.

I opened my presents. The main one was a small transistor radio I was delighted I asked if I could put it on Daddy smiled 

“Sure sweetheart. We might hear some Christmas carols eh?”

I was in my element; for the first time, I could hear music from both ears. I started to hum Silent Night imagining baby Jesus, in the manger and Mary… Mary loving him like a Mummy would. Grandma looking at me saw the expression, looked at Daddy then at Mummy.

“Why on earth did you buy her a radio, Dan? she’s dis… um deaf”

“Yes, darling, but she can hear now thanks to her new hearing aid.” Daddy’s answer was patient

“You are spoiling her; she does not deserve…”

It happened quickly the movement was swift and sharp. Grandma rose from her chair went over to Mummy and slapped her cheek, hard.

“MOTHER!” Mummy was horrified

“Do you know what the title means, Ava?” Grandma asked “according to the Bible it means ‘a woman who keeps on loving her children her entire life’. When did you ever love Ann, my dear, you have made her life a misery that is until you were admitted.” she frowned “Dan I know it is Christmas Day but you know what to do; Ann and I will fix Christmas dinner. Come, darling.”

The ambulance was called for. This time it was Mummy who was crying.  Once the dinner was cooking, Grandma took me on her knee for a while. I felt secure. 

CIRCA 1985

The call had shaken me more than I thought, but John was unphased by it, he dealt with this behaviour every day. It was almost dinner time when the phone rang again; automatically I answered 

“Hello”

“Ann darling.”

Before I could speak, John who was listing from the study extension, answered. 

“Hello Mrs Lawson, I’m Dr John Shaw, Ann’s husband. Can I ask how you got our number?” I let the wall phone hang and went down to the study.

“It is in the book”

“Oh yes, that’s right.  Why did you call?”

“I want to speak to Ann, my daughter. I demand to speak to her, John.”

“Right, I see!”    John was watching my expression “Well how about we meet you tomorrow if that is convenient? Can you give me your address or suggest a meeting place?”

“I want to speak to my daughter, now.”

“No, that is not possible tonight I’m afraid, you see your daughter, does not want to speak to you just now.”

The call ended abruptly, but John had a plan.

John had noted the telephone number and as he was speaking checked it via the computer. Mummy was ringing from an extension linked with the hospital.

Dinner over, he suggested we sit in the lounge with our coffee.  As both of us loved music, he put the CD player on; we listened to Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A minor. Ironically, it put my relationship with Mummy in a nutshell; its peaceful movements and thunderstorms!

“I have an idea, Annie. I can pull a few strings since I am a staff member.”

“John, I don’t want to speak to her.”

“I think you should, particularly if I’m with you. Chances are she will not remember me as anything other than her son in law.”

I reluctantly agreed.

It looked like a hotel, smelt like a hotel. There were no uniformed orderlies, no noisy messages over the speakers. There were fresh floral bouquets and quaint ornaments placed on tables; I stood nervously waiting for John to complete his preparations; quite suddenly he was there.

“Shall we sit here darling just at the window facing the garden Apparently, Ava loves this corner.”

We could see her approach with a staff member. Mummy was all dressed up; she even had makeup on and for the first time in living memory was smiling almost as nervously as I was. The young woman spoke

“Dr and Mrs Shaw? I’m Sally, and of course, this is Ava Lawson.” she turned to Ava.

“Ava, you know Ann and John. You saw their wedding?”

“I did,” said Mummy” but I was not good enough to be at the reception!” instead of the menacing look, there was a wink directed at me and a bright smile.

“I shall sit outside and leave you to it, just over there in case you need me.” she pointed to the Norfolk Pine, "just where you can see me, Ava.”

“Oh okay,” Mummy said “Thanks, Sally.”

Mummy looked at John, then at me

“My you chose a handsome man, love.” Mummy said, “I believe he works here too.”

“Yes, I do, Mrs…”

“Ava will be fine John and for you too Ann, if you prefer. I know now I was not a mother to you, I’m sorry. I am glad that my mother filled in the gap until she died.”

She looked up as cups of coffee and sandwiches were placed on the table.

“Oh, lovely the coffee is dripolated and so nice.”

When I sipped, I had to agree; however, Ava did not take the sandwiches when I passed the plate over.

“I’m not terribly hungry these days Ann, but don’t deprive yourself of the smoked salmon. It was one of my favourites.”

She looked at John, he smiled in agreement.

“So, what did you want to see our Ann about, Ava?” John asked gently

“To apologise mainly.” She handed me an enormous folder. It was filled with mementoes of success, namely of Ann Lawson’s success as an artist, of the awards, from High School to Art School until now, where Dr and Mrs Shaw featured in their chosen careers. I looked at her in surprise.

“Dan was right all those years ago when he said you were deaf, not disabled. He listed three of the many well-known people who are remembered for their success not their lack of hearing. Dan visited periodically; it hurt that you did not come, but you did not know the reason I detested you. My darling none of it was your fault. You see I had twins but I also had emetophobia and I was given the fairly new drug Thalidomide. It cleared up the morning sickness, but our son was born completely deaf and with no arms, he did not survive the night. You as you know were profoundly deaf in one ear. I blamed you for Danny’s death.”

I was crying

“Mummy, why did you not tell me?”

“I had gone loopy Ann. The hospital I was sent to was awful, but my mother’s money opened doors here.”

“So, you are better,” I said eagerly.

“Of mental health issues yes.” she sipped from her cup; the coffee was bound to be cold.  John went to get her a fresh cup. When he returned, she continued;

“I now have cancer. Before I die, I had to see you and explain. John of course already knows; I have a feeling you will be well looked after. Do not be sad Ann, for I am proud of you I always was deep down.”

I hugged her for a long time.

At least I have the opportunity of knowing, for however long she has left, the other side of Ava.