The house was squat and squashed between two elegant town houses; a setting which only magnified its ugliness, yet Veronica’s face was all ecstatic grin as she opened the door.
‘Hello Sue!’ she sang, grappling at my mother’s shoulders and pulling her close for a theatrical kiss on both cheeks and then turning to look first at me and then down to the seven year old girl who was holding on to my hand.
‘This must be your daughter and’ she said bending down to look Eve directly in the eye ‘you must be Eve!’
Eve turned her head away, squirming in my grasp and Veronica stood up again slowly, her large multi-coloured kaftan hampering her movement.
‘Come in come in’ she trilled and we followed her through into the house.
The house seemed just as cramped inside as out. The front room was jammed with two settees on one side and a large piano on the other. There were magazines and pieces of material strewn everywhere in a creative frenzy. A small corridor led through to a ramshackle kitchen at the back which, from a glimpse I could see was stacked with herbs growing in pots, boxes of teas and packets of dried beans.
‘We’ll have a drink afterwards’ Veronica announced, having noted the direction of my gaze. ‘First of all we’d best do some work. Sue tells me that Eve’ here she paused momentarily ‘struggles with her speech.’
I nodded. ‘She can be quite difficult to understand’ I began, but Veronica didn’t appear to require any further explanation. It was apparent that she and my mother had already discussed the matter in great detail. A discordant jangle filled the room and Veronica looked around at Eve who was poking the keys on the piano.
‘Come along Eve’ she said stridently, moving towards her. At Veronica’s approach Eve produced a guttural sound from the back of her throat, abandoned the piano and ran behind the sofa. My mother followed and I could hear her attempting to coax Eve back out.
‘Diction Eve, diction!’ Veronica called after her. My expectations had been at rock bottom before we’d arrived but were actually managing to sink even further with every minute that passed. I’d tried hard since Eve had been born to tame my proclivity for cynicism and keep an open mind where new therapies were concerned – but breathing techniques? From a woman who was used to teaching opera singers not children with autism? Of all the strange people that my mother had befriended over the years, this woman had to be one of the more outlandish.
There was a bubble of expectation in the room, which I was painfully aware would soon burst when it came face to face with autism. In my experience there were two ways people reacted to Eve; they either pretended that they couldn’t see her or they tried to interact with her as they would a ‘normal’ child and then almost always gave up, shrugging their shoulders and turning their pity-filled eyes upon me. I shuddered, almost hating my mother for exposing us to yet another situation where we would fail.
Undeterred, Veronica settled herself down at the piano and started playing a few scales and singing a variety of notes. ‘It’s all in the breath!’ She declared. ‘I’m convinced that if we can get your daughter breathing properly, then her speech will improve quite dramatically.’ This was all very well, but at that moment my daughter was still behind the sofa and refusing to come out. I could hear her tiger roars of disapproval in response to my mother’s increasingly desperate attempts to get her to co-operate.
‘Veronica’s taught many famous people’ my mother chimed in, her head popping up from behind the sofa. ‘Including Kiri Te Kanawa’. There was a chiding note in her voice which further restricted the breath in my throat.
I came round to the back of the sofa and knelt down next to Eve. She was curled into a ball and had her hands over her ears.
‘Come along Eve’ I said softly. ‘Remember we talked about this earlier. This lady wants to show you how to do proper breathing like this’ and I took a couple of dramatic deep breaths to demonstrate.
‘Not like that!’ Veronica intoned from the piano. Eve looked like she wanted to cry and my heart contracted. This was such a difficult situation for her; a new place and a new person were enough of a challenge without expecting her to follow instructions as well. I felt slightly sick to the stomach.
It was no good. I could see that all the soothing and offers of Freddo chocolate bars in the world were not going to persuade Eve to come out. Veronica took it surprisingly well. Perhaps her eyes were a little less bright and her smile a little more brittle but she tried hard not to let it show and I felt a small spark of warmth towards her ignite in my chest. ‘Maybe you could teach the technique to me?’ I suggested tentatively, ‘then I could try it with her when we’re at home and she feels more comfortable.’
‘Of course my dear’ said Veronica enthusiastically and so I stood rather awkwardly in front of her allowing her to pummel my chest and abdomen whilst I tried to breathe as I was instructed. She proved a fierce task-master and after half an hour I was not only somewhat bemused, but exhausted too.
‘I think that’s enough for today’ Veronica declared finally. ‘Time for a cup of tea’ she continued, sweeping off majestically into the kitchen.
I looked over to my mother and raised my eyebrows. Mum was looking faintly horrified and stage whispered to me ‘Eve’s pulled a load of threads out of the back of the sofa and is eating them. I can’t seem to stop her!’
‘Oh God, can you tell?’ I asked rushing over to inspect the damage. But luckily the sofa was already fairly threadbare and Eve’s nibbling was not too noticeable. ‘You mustn’t do that’ I told Eve, ‘it’s not good for your tummy’. She let me take the remaining thread out of her hand and I quickly pushed it into the pocket of my sweatshirt.
Mum and I had just straightened up again when Veronica came back in with a tea tray and we hurried to sit down on the sofa, pushing aside the discarded clothing which smelled faintly of mould. Eve scurried off down the corridor and darted into the bathroom. Veronica must have seen the concern on my face.
‘Don’t worry about it, there’s nothing she can harm herself with in there. Here, I’ve got this marvellous green tea with nettle which you both simply must try’ she announced as she placed her burden down and for the next ten minutes she and my mother talked about opera and a local performance of Madame Butterfly Veronica was producing. While they were chatting I tried to relax and drink down the vile khaki brew out of a chipped mug which still had a smear of its last user’s lipstick on it.
Suddenly Eve appeared as if from nowhere. ‘Hello Eve’ I said, smiling encouragingly.
‘Mummy’s got a sore knee’ she announced in her monotone voice and before I could react she slapped something large and white onto my trousers. She then moved to Veronica and pressed a similar article firmly on top of Veronica’s head. My body was suffused with a whirl of emotions; pride that Eve had produced such a wonderful sentence and horror as I realised that a sanitary towel was now perching on the apex of Veronica’s beautifully coiffed hairdo.
I looked down at my own knee and sure enough, another sanitary towel was stuck to the front of my jeans. Horror gripped my stomach. I looked up with dread at Veronica who nonchalantly patted the towel, ‘is my head sore too?’ she asked Eve, and Eve nodded solemnly. ‘Thank you for the plaster dear; that is very kind’ she added and then without pause resumed her conversation with Mum and continued talking for at least another half an hour until we finally managed to drain our cups and stood up to leave.
Veronica rose with us, the sanitary towel still firmly fixed on to her head as if trapped in a Dali painting. Holding ourselves together we made it to the front door, but as soon as Veronica had bid us goodbye and had retreated into the house, Mum and I bent double with laughter.
We staggered down the path, through the gate and eventually managed to climb into the car, giggling all the way. I unpeeled the sanitary towel from my knee and placed it on the back seat. Mum burst out laughing again and for a few more minutes we simply couldn’t stop. We would just get control of ourselves when we would catch each other’s eye again and burst out laughing anew.
‘It’s the thought of her trying to pull it off…’ I would cry.
‘She just sat there as if nothing was the matter…’ Mum gasped back.
Our eyes were streaming with tears and I was laughing so much I was struggling to breathe. I drew in a ragged breath attempting to get back my control.
‘Not like that!’ came a sing-song voice from the back of the car and I turned round to see Eve grinning to herself and waving the sanitary towel in the air as if she were conducting an orchestra. ‘Go home now’ she directed.
‘Yes we’re going home now Eve’ I agreed and I turned back round to find Mum staring at me with wonder in her eyes.
‘That’s the clearest thing I’ve ever heard Eve say’ she began.
‘Oh no Mum’ I replied quickly ‘we are not going back there again.’