Senseless
About the Author
Anna’s adult life has been moulded a great deal by challenges to her physical health and the need to adapt to them. She was diagnosed with N eurofibromatosis type 2 (NF2) in the 19 9 0s and went deaf soon after, whil e at u niversity . She then began to learn British Sign Language to help with communication and loved it immediately, becoming fluent enough to teach it.
In the last seven years, Anna’s vision has deteriorated and she is now registered deaf – blind. That and other health complications led her to stop working. Although sad to leave a job she loved, she is now relishing having more time to write and much of her writing is greatly influenced by her desire to share the realities of living with disability.
Anna wrote and self-published a semi-autobiographical novel called Catch It Anytime You Can in 2012 and also loves writing poetry, short stories and articles. Senseless is her first full-length work of fiction.
Apart from writing, Anna loves horse riding and competes at dressage with the RDA (Riding for the Disabled Association). She will be donating 10% of her royalties from Senseless to St Ives (Bingley) RDA where she has weekly lessons.
Senseless
Anna Lickley
This edition first published in 2018
Unbound
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www.unbound.com
All rights reserved
© Anna Lickley, 2018
The right of Anna Lickley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-912618-05-7
ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-912618-04-0
Design by Mecob
Printed in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives Plc
Senseless is dedicated to the memory of Ken Lickley
Der beste Vater der Welt
1946 – 1999
Dear Reader,
The book you are holding came about in a rather different way to most others. It was funded directly by readers through a new website: Unbound.
Unbound is the creation of three writers. We started the company because we believed there had to be a better deal for both writers and readers. On the Unbound website, authors share the ideas for the books they want to write directly with readers. If enough of you support the book by pledging for it in advance, we produce a beautifully bound special subscribers’ edition and distribute a regular edition and e-book wherever books are sold, in shops and online.
This new way of publishing is actually a very old idea (Samuel Johnson funded his dictionary this way). We’re just using the internet to build each writer a network of patrons. Here, at the back of this book, you’ll find the names of all the people who made it happen.
Publishing in this way means readers are no longer just passive consumers of the books they buy, and authors are free to write the books they really want. They get a much fairer return too – half the profits their books generate, rather than a tiny percentage of the cover price.
If you’re not yet a subscriber, we hope that you’ll want to join our publishing revolution and have your name listed in one of our books in the future. To get you started, here is a £5 discount on your first pledge. Just visit unbound.com, make your pledge and type BETH18 in the promo code box when you check out.
Thank you for your support,
Dan, Justin and John
Founders, Unbound
Super Patrons
Sue Ainley
Shirley & Nick
Jane Armstrong
Kate Bairstow
The Baldwin Family
Trudy Bean
Sarah Bellwood
Penelope Beschizza
Mary Bolton
Teresa Brasier
Leigh-Anne Brown
Rachel Butterfield
Alison Capey
Mandy Clift
Sarah Clilverd
Joanna Coleman
Geraldine Collie
Norman Cook
Peter Crawshaw
Valerie Cushing
Clive & Anne Davis
Pat de Reyes
Lynn Delfosse
Cherry Dexter
Sue Duke
Ivan & Jackie Dunn
Julia Elliot
Carol Fellingham Webb
Tom & Liz Franks
Judy Green
Vivien Halliwell
Mary Halsey
Susan Hargadon
Sheila Harris
Shaunett Harris
Samantha Havis
Jill Henshaw
Stephen Hey
Jade & Kirsty Higgs
Michelle Higgs
Jilly Holland
Louise Holland
Julie Holmes
Kate Houghton
John Howard
Ron Howard – in memory of Julie Howard
Karen Humphreys
Huw Huw
Lizzy Jackson
Mo Jackson
Sarah Jackson
Jackie Jackson-Smith
Liz Jobey
Bonnie Kelly
Dan Kieran
Sally Kingsley
Jean Leake
Tracey Leake
Susan Lee
Jill Lickley
Margaret Longden
Liz Macartney
Rodney Marsh
Jean Mcbean
Suzanne Meinert
Jill Merritt
Val Middleton
John Mitchinson
Heather Mole
Janet Montefiore
Andrew & Janet Munro
Carlo Navato
Hilary Nelmes
Pam Noble
Lucy Oldroyd
Steph Osborn
Katie Peat
Justin Pollard
John Popham
Andrew Pye
Anna Pye
Julie Ralph
Jen Rhodes
Bruce Rhodes
Hazel Rolston
Paul Scales
Brian Scott
Laura Sheard
Rosemary Silverson
Sylvia Simmonds
Tanya Simpson
Anna Smith
Paula Squire
Claire Stent
Sue Stevens
David Storer
Lynne Swarbrick Hughes
Mary Tibbett
Barbara Todd
Jonathan Tomkinson
Hilary Trickey
Ann Vear
Percy Vear
Henry Waddington
John Walker
Joanne Ward
Lisa Ward
Debbie Watkins
Lesley Weatherson-Emm
Josephine Wesley
Stephen Whitehead
Andrew Wight
Helen Williams
Hazel Williams
Amy Wilson
Ray Wilson
Jube Wiseman
Kate Wood
Anya Woodbridge
Marjorie Woodhams
Sara Yarnell
Contents
About the Author
[Dedication]
[Dear Reader Letter]
Super Patrons
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
&
nbsp; Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Acknowledgements
Patrons
Chapter 1
‘The Better Solutions honchos are a nasty, money-grabbing bunch of wankers , Beth , ’ Rick was saying as they pulled up outside her house . ‘For God’s sake, you are 3 2 years young. What the hell are you doing in this pissy job?’
Beth was too tired to answer after they had driven a 400-mile round trip in heavy traffic to attend the Better Solutions UK AGM. She shook her head and shrugged instead.
‘All we do is drive across half the country to care homes trying to persuade underpaid staff to buy Better Solutions bath hoists and Better bloody Solutions state – of – the – art wheelchair ramps.’
Rick paused for breath but Beth knew he wasn’t stopping. She wondered sleepily how many times he’d said this to her in the course of the journey.
‘These people only come to our demonstrations to get the free mugs, pens, mouse mats, cakes and whatever the fuck else we have to sweeten them up with. We’re the ones feeling like bloody idiots slugging this stuff around and breaking our sodding backs in the process.’
‘I know, Rick, maybe one day I really will get round to moving on but…’
‘But what , Beth? “ But ” is what I’ve been saying all my life. We both have dreams of doing something else. What’s stopping you? ’
‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged , rubbing her hand over her eyes, ‘I’m too tired , Rick, I’ll have to go in.’
‘Alright , Beth love, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Beth pulled herself out of his overheated car and it was so cold that by the time she’d walked the 15 steps to her front door, the metal door handle felt wet to her frozen fingers.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she chanted as she fumbled with her key, seeing a frozen cloud coming from her mouth. The only light was a faint glow from the distant street lamp but even that was obscured by an overgrown bush. There were no lights on in the house, so Dan was already in bed. He would usually leave the porch light on if Beth still hadn’t come home from a long working day. He’d sometimes leave a note on the door for her too: Come to bed immediately! orWelcome home,sexy!
Tonight there were neither of those things. She was worried about Dan, he’d been in a strange, uncommunicative mood for the last few weeks. His sullen moods were very unlike him. After asking a couple of times if he was okay and getting the brush off, she had decided to ignore it and wait for the real Dan to come back. It was probably just work stress ; he had mentioned budget cuts.
All Beth wanted now was to get this bloody rigid bra off and curl up in bed next to a calm, sleeping Dan hoping he’d wake up in a better mood tomorrow.
When she got in, the dark house was freezing. Had Dan not had the heating on at all tonight? She went to the lounge and bent to turn on the glass-fronted faux-flame gas fire, holding out her hands to the flames. That’s when she noticed the envelope on the mantelpiece with BETH written in large black letters on the front. Had Dan left a welcome note after all? He’d never used an envelope before. She lifted it down drowsily, tempted to just put it in her pocket to read in the morning. But s omething about the formality of the sealed envelope made her open it. When she pulled out the folded piece of A4 paper there was just one short line in Dan’s best cursive. Bile rose in her throat as she read the words:
I have loved you so much Beth, I’m so sorry. D xx
All thoughts of sleep suddenly vanished. ‘Oh my God, Dan,’ she screamed out, ‘Dan! Dan!’
She ran to the kitchen and switched on the light ; there was nothing there but a discarded half-drunk mug of cold tea.
‘DAN?!’
She bolted to the stairs, running up them two at a time , and threw open the door to the box room they used as an office. It was empty. With a pounding in her chest, she wheeled round and checked the bathroom. It was also empty, towels slung carelessly on the floor where she had left them this morning in her haste to dress. God! Finally she threw open the door to their bedroom. The bed was unmade but the room was empty. Thank God! All she felt was relief. No Dan hanging by his neck or convulsed on the bed or slumped in a cold bath of bloodied water. But then the relief became despair. If the house was empty, Dan was gone.
Chapter 2
Nine Years Later, Friday Morning
Luckily there was one space left as Beth pulled into the small car park. As she parked, she looked up at the tatty college. A lone boy kicked a ball against the wall and the thudding monotony echoed the pounding in her head. She struggled from the car and headed to Student Services with minutes to spare . ‘Alright , Beth?’ Diane , the head of department , greeted her, ‘Tom just emailed, he won’t be in today so can you go and work with Becky in her beauty class? Gemma usually does that, but she’s off today.’
‘ Right , ’ Beth managed, trying to process Diane’s quick-fire instructions as she watched her bustling off down the corridor. This was what it was always like, ‘do this, go there, don’t have an opinion on anything, just follow instructions and nod’ . She was weary all the time. Working as a Communication Support Worker was supposed to be her dream, a chance for her to do something she enjoyed. She was beginning to wonder if there was anything that she would truly enjoy doing. Was she just destined to be dissatisfied forever?
She couldn’t say she was sad not to be sitting with Tom . H e was one of those skulking kids who sat slumped in his seat, arms folded in a protective barrage around his chest. He wasn’t interested, didn’t even watch the signing half the time. On top of that, she had a problem with his name. It was a common enough name but every time she heard it, she felt her stomach lurch with a longing for the only Tom who existed for her, the brother she had adored so much. Her mind was filled with the halcyon days of their childhood , when life was so smooth and unsullied by … She couldn’t let her thoughts run away with her. Say stop when your thoughts start drifting back to what happened , she heard her therapist telling her.
The beauty school was on the ground floor of the college. They had a full corridor , with a hairdressing salon, a treatment room for practical sessions and four classrooms for teaching. Becky was in the treatment room this morning and the students who’d arrived were sitting paired up a round the beds lining each side of the long room , making it look like a hospital ward. The bed covers were a washed-to-grey , greenish colour and Beth always felt slightly sick in here. Becky was sitting by the bed at the end of the row, fixing her hair in a low ponytail and looking around waiting for her CSW.
Morning, Beth signed, Gemma’s ill so it’s me today.
Cool . She smiled distractedly.
What’s the plan today, do you know? I haven’t seen the lesson plan.
I think we’re doing waxing. We had a bit of a practice last week on our own legs but only quickly at the end. Today might be bikini lines.
Becky got her phone from her bag and started texting someone. Beth looked around to see that the class was pretty much all there and in pairs for working, chatting away to each other. Becky was still without a partner, immersed in her own world.
The teacher, Gail, walked in – a warm, plumpish woman in her fifties. T he students glanced up a
t her and quieted down . Becky was still looking down at her phone , so Beth waved again to let her know that Gail had arrived .
‘Are you all paired up?’ Gail was asking, by the time Beth looked her way.
There were murmurs of ‘yeah’ from round the room. When Beth signed the question to Becky, her hand shot up.
‘Becky doesn’t have a partner,’ Beth voiced.
‘Oh , that’s alright,’ Gail replied, ‘Gemma usually pairs up with Becky if she’s on her own.’
Beth seethed internally. Bloody ‘ do-gooder ’ Gemma would, of course ; but it wasn’t right or fair to ask , surely?
‘O-kay, ’ s he forced out . Now wasn’t the time to protest. Beth found this one of the hardest things about the job. She was here to aid Becky’s communication, full stop. Her job description was pretty clear on that, but time and again she’d be asked to do extra things and was never sure what to do for the best.
She’d talked to Gemma about it once but her policy was to ‘just do it’, especially in the beauty classes when you’d get a free manicure or facial thrown in. Beth felt this wasn’t helpful : how could you sign for Becky properly with a face pack on your face or fingers sticky with nail polish? She felt she was being taken for granted. At the same time, would it be churlish to refuse ?
Gail was explaining the process of bikini waxing. ‘You’ll need hard wax, not the sort that requires muslin strips. It’s better if you begin by using warm water and gently trimming stray hairs around the area … ’
Beth realised that , this time , there was no way in hell that she was going to give in. She would not let a student wax her privates.
For now, she had to keep signing for Becky. Gail was explaining the different preferences of waxing: a neat triangle, a love heart, a full Brazilian . Becky looked slightly uncomfortable as Gail sent the class to the store room to get waxing kits and towels.
She seized this moment to grab Gail.
‘Sorry , Gail , but I’m not comfortable with this . I don’t mind the odd manicure and I’d be okay with a leg wax but bikini? N o.’
‘Becky is on her own then?’
‘I’m here as Becky’s CSW. I couldn’t seriously do this support with someone who has waxed my privates.’ The volume level of her voice was rising slightly and she swallowed, not wanting other students to overhear.