Louder Than Words (14 page)

But she was wrong. Dad leaving may not have helped, but it didn’t strike me dumb on the spot.

She didn’t tell me much about the appointment. Maybe she said more to Silas in private, but if she did he didn’t share it with me. The only thing I knew is that the therapist had asked my mother to attend with me in the first instance, but on hearing that I wanted Silas instead she had agreed to that. Our mother had even offered to drive us and was going to hang around to collect us after. The woman’s office was thirty miles from where we lived and that journey would have been a total pain by train, so I agreed to let her take us.

I looked around the waiting room for the fifty-third time as I couldn’t concentrate on my book. I’d read the same paragraph over and over and it still didn’t make sense. It was the kind of room I suppose I’d expected in that it had a warm, soothing feel. The walls were painted a soft lemon and around them were pictures of sea and countryside. My mother would hate them, but they were restful, which is exactly why I imagine they’d been picked.

The door to Room 2 opened and a woman in her thirties came out, carefully leading a small child by the hand. ‘See you next week,’ she said before closing the door behind her. She gave us a polite smile as she left.

My stomach clenched. We were next. I wasn’t ready for this.

It was another minute before we were called and in that time I’d got up and run out of the waiting room ten times in my head.

The woman who came to the door and said, ‘Rafaela Ramsey? Come in,’ was younger than I’d thought she’d be. Around late twenties, she was plump with bobbed blonde hair. She looked as if nothing much ruffled her.

Silas got up and I followed on unwilling legs. Her office – clinic, whatever – was a twin of the waiting room. There was a small desk in the corner housing a computer, but she didn’t sit at it, ushering us instead to low, soft chairs grouped round a coffee table in the middle of the room.

‘Hi, Rafaela, I’m Andrea. And you’re Silas?’ she asked, turning from me to my brother.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and everyone calls her Rafi.’

‘Would you prefer that, for me to call you Rafi?’ She turned back to me.

I looked to Silas in confusion. Hadn’t he just told her that? Why was she asking me?

‘Is it OK for you to nod or shake your head for me?’

Er . . . nod. But shouldn’t she be talking to Silas to find out what was wrong with me so she knew how to fix me?

‘So shall I call you Rafi?’

Nod.

She smiled. ‘OK, so I’m going to ask you some questions in this first session. If it gets too much, just hold your hand up and I’ll stop.’ She put a tablet PC in front of me. ‘No pressure, but if you want to share something, you can type on this.’

Silas looked at me. ‘I think if it gets to that she’d prefer a pen and paper,’ he said.

Andrea raised an eyebrow. ‘Now that is unusual. Most people I see of your age prefer a computer. No problem though.’ She whisked the tablet away and put a pad and a biro down on the table instead. ‘Or you can draw if you like?’

I shook my head vehemently. God, no, I’d had enough of that in prep school with the speech and language woman they made me see there. I could still hear her voice in my head: ‘Now draw me a little face to tell me if you’re happy-smiley or sad today.’

‘OK, so I’ll go through your case details with you now, Rafi, so we can make sure you see it the same way. That’s important. But first I need to tell you a bit about myself.’

Oh, I hadn’t expected that.

‘You probably know I’m a speech and language therapist. What you won’t know is that I decided to go into this area because when I was very small I had a stammer and I was selectively mute at school for three years. So selective mutism is something I’ve always been really interested in and now I’m working as a therapist I specialise in cases of children who develop the condition. I don’t come across many progressive mutes, because I’m sure you know that’s much rarer, but I have treated a couple successfully in the past.’

I drew in a breath visibly.

‘Is there something you’d like to ask?’

Nod, surprising myself at my courage.

She pushed the paper and pen over to me and smiled encouragingly.

I wrote:
How many progressive mutes have you treated unsuccessfully?

She burst out laughing as she read it, and then looked at me for permission to show it to Silas. He laughed too.

‘You’re a smart cookie, aren’t you? None,’ she replied. ‘I have treated exactly two people with your condition and in both cases we managed – and I say
we
because it takes hard work from the patient too – we managed to get them speaking again.’ She cocked her head to one side as she looked at me. ‘Does that make you feel better?’

Nod-shake.

‘Because it’s wonderful to think you might be able to talk again but terrifying too?’

I swallowed hard, now truly believing that she’d been mute too. Nod.

‘It’s the terror we need to work on, but we need to remember the wonderful too because that’s what keeps us going. So today we’re going to look at the past, but we’re also going to begin to examine motives for change too.’

Silas was leaning back in his chair now, relaxed and watching us both.

‘How old were you when you first began to struggle with speaking?’

I held up four fingers.

‘And where did you first struggle – at school, at home, with strangers in new environments?’

I looked at Silas to answer for me – he knew this.

‘It was at home,’ he said.

‘And you agree with that, Rafi?’

Nod.

‘If your brother tells me something that isn’t quite right, I need you to tell me.’

‘I’m not going to do that,’ Silas protested.

‘No, not intentionally, but sometimes people with mutism can be quite secretive about their motives and it only comes out in a therapy situation. Rafi?’

Nod.

‘OK, so you stopped talking at home first. To everyone?’

Shake of the head.

‘Who did you first have trouble talking to?’

Now Silas didn’t know this. I picked up the paper.
Carys
.

‘And then?’

Mum
.

Then Gideon
.

‘Was this before you had problems at school?’

Nod.

‘Who was the last person you spoke to, Rafi?’

I pointed to Silas.

‘Is that why you wanted your brother to come with you today?’

Shrug . . . nod.

‘And how old were you then?’

I held up six fingers.

Silas interrupted us. ‘She hadn’t said much to me for ages by that point. She occasionally whispered something, but then finally she stopped altogether.’

‘What was Rafi like as a child?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Was she outgoing, made friends easily, quiet, preferred her own company? What?’

‘Yeah, quiet. She never did talk as much as the rest of us. And she hated getting in trouble. Used to cry a lot if she got told off. She was quiet when she went to school too. Played on her own a lot. Don’t get me wrong, she did have some friends, but she always had this . . . solitary air about her too.’

Andrea turned back to me. ‘Is that accurate, do you think?’

Nod.
Yes, I was always a weirdo
.

‘And were you happy like that or did it bother you?’

I paused to work out how to answer that when, to my disgust and horror, a fat tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another.

Andrea got up and passed me a tissue. ‘It bothered you,’ she said gently.

Silas slipped an arm round my shoulders. ‘Is there much more of this today?’

‘I think we can leave the past there for now. I do want to spend a few minutes on motivation before we close. It’s important to end on some positives. Rafi, can you think of one thing you’ll enjoy when you talk, something you can’t do now?’

I thought. It didn’t take me long to come up with an answer.
Being able to talk to my friend Josie about things. I have to text her now if I want to tell her something.

‘That’s a good one. Have you been friends with Josie a long time?’

Shake of the head.
No, only a couple of months.

‘But she’s a good friend?’

Nod.
She talked me into seeing someone for help again.

Andrea smiled. ‘Then she’s a very good friend indeed. Can you think of any other positives?’

Again, it didn’t take long.
Speaking to my brother again.

‘That’s good – I can see you two are very close. Can I set this as an exercise for next time? I’d like you to come up with three more positives related to you beginning to speak again. We’ll also look at some of your worries and explore what happened when you stopped talking. I’ll set you some practical exercises at some point, but not this week.’

We closed the session, said polite goodbyes and left.

Once we were out in the street, Silas called Mum to come and get us. ‘So what did you think?’ he asked.

I gave him a surprised nod because actually it had been OK. Not how I thought it would go at all. I felt vaguely content instead of the sick, tummy-cramp sensations I’d expected from memory. Maybe Silas might get a normal sister one day after all.

War is when your government tells you who the enemy is. Revolution is when you figure it out for yourself.

(Anonymous)

CHAPTER 24

Hi Dad,

I feel a bit embarrassed telling you some of this stuff with Lara, but then I remember how you bought Mum a bunch of flowers home every Friday night, how you used to take her out for champagne cocktails whenever she landed a new commission just because she loves them so much. And how there’s a tree at the bottom of our garden with both your initials carved into it, and the dates you first met, got engaged, got married. I don’t know what went so wrong between you when you loved her once, but I think you of all people might get how I feel right now.

We went on a date. I wanted to take her on one not because I wanted to patronise her by treating her like any other girl – because I could see in her eyes that’s what she was firing up to say (yes, I have got to know her a little bit now) – but because she was different to the others and that made her special. I wanted to show her how special.

I thought she’d be sarcastic about that, but she wasn’t. She flushed a bit and wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I spent three days searching for the perfect idea, rejecting so many possibilities before I found it, but it was more than worth the effort. I met her at the train station. She didn’t ask me where we were going or what we were doing. She just walked beside me in silence. I wanted to take her hand, but I hadn’t earned that right yet so I didn’t try.

I gave her the window seat and she watched the trees flash past as the train raced through the countryside. The corners of her mouth were still curled upwards slightly and that was more than enough for me for now. When we got off the train at a tiny station in the middle of nowhere, she looked around, puzzled.

‘It’ll make sense soon,’ I said.

We walked down a tarmacked road and then another and another, until we came to a narrow lane with the rough surface of a farm track. She followed me up it.

I’ve never felt so in love with a girl on a date before, but then, with the exception of Rafi of course, I’ve never known a girl who had less need to fill every second with noise. Lara was at ease without words and I loved that.

The countryside opened out as we reached the top of another hill and we could see below us the rolling contours of a country estate with a huge manor house in the centre. Lara stopped in her tracks to take a second look.

‘This is where we’re going?’

‘Kind of,’ I answered. ‘Down there.’

I pointed to the right, down a track leading behind another small hill. However, this one was carrying more traffic than would have been usual. There were battered Land Rovers making their way along it and a few people on foot, some trailing farm dogs at their heels.

‘What is this?’

‘You’ll see.’

She didn’t utter a word about how far we’d walked already or how much further it was. She paused to tighten a lace on her boot and then nodded at me to say she was ready to carry on. We trudged on down the hill and then took the path over to where the rest were heading. As we rounded a corner, we saw a large gathering of people and 4x4 vehicles blocking the lane.

‘What’s going on?’ Lara demanded.

I beckoned her over to a nearby gate and then lifted her up to stand on top of it. ‘What can you see?’

‘A farm. This lot are blocking the entrance to a farm. They’re spread out around the gate. They’ve got some placards on the ground, but I can’t see what they say yet. It looks like they’re all getting ready for something. Silas, what is this?’

I lifted her down again. There was a flush of excitement spreading across her cheeks as if she already had some idea what I was up to.

A man with a tatty waxed jacket and two spaniels at his heels passed us. ‘Come to help?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I replied.

‘Come on down here then,’ the man said. ‘We’re going to split up once we’ve got enough bodies. We need some to cover the back gate too. These devils are as sneaky as all hell.’

‘We’ll follow you then.’

‘Aye, right.’

We fell in behind him.

‘Silas, what is this?’ Lara asked again, but her cheeks were bright now and her eyes more alive than I’d ever seen them.

I’d got it right, Dad. I’d actually got this right. And what I was thinking right then was let this be enough to make her give me a chance. Let this be enough for her to let me love her, even just a little.