A Glass of Milk
It’s not only the less fortunate who have hard times, but also those who end up beside them. I realised this a long time ago – I’ve been working for eight years now as a social care worker. In that time, I’ve worn myself to a thread, lost weight, become rather curt, and learned to snap back, especially when anyone had anything unkind to say about my job. Who are you to judge what I do? Id glare from beneath my auburn fringe with my narrowed green eyes, and that would usually be the end of their questions. Some people even joked that if I picked up speed down the high street with my brisk stride, you wouldn’t know which way to scatter. That’s why they started calling me Vera Plague, a nickname that stuck and got passed around the neighbourhood.
All these years, I’ve done the shopping for my clients, tidied up their flats, and managed to see eye-to-eye with all sorts of people. Only once did I have a proper row, when an old man, on his own in a poky flat on the edge of town, gave me a chocolate bar. We were forbidden from taking any gifts, and I never usually accepted them, but I had a weak momenthow could I refuse, for the love of God? I took the chocolate home but couldnt bring myself to eat a single piecemy throat closed up just looking at it. I handed it to a neighbours lad in the end, and next time, I refused the offering. The old gentleman complained to the council, saying, Chocolates not enough for these carers; they want an envelope with some cash in it, too. They nearly sacked me, but I wasnt botheredGo on, sack me if you want. Im a person too, not some old rag to be trampled on! As it happens, my other clients stood up for me. Among them was Anna Fawcett. Id always liked her, but after that business, she became as close to me as the sister I never had.
We were kindred spirits really, united by hardship, since wed both lost our parents young. Anna was disabled since childhood, and although I looked perfectly healthy, you wouldnt want to peer into my soulbruised and jumpy as it was, crying all the time for reasons even Anna couldnt fathom. The only thing that made us equals was that neither of us had children. Id long since resigned myself to my fate, but Anna was still fighting. Shed tell me off if I moaned too much, and grew bolder after a few rehearsals in the rehabilitation centres studio, preparing for a recital. At first, Anna didn’t want to perform at all. Even Father Luke, the priest whod visit her with gifts and prayer on holidays, discouraged her, saying embroidery was more her calling. Her fingers werent the nimblest, but her determination made up for it. She moved from embroidering handkerchiefs and doilies to decorating a linen dress with intricate designscrimson flourishes and emerald birds. It was so striking that they sent it to the countys folk art show, where it won first prize. On the last day, someone bought the dress, too. With Annas agreement, of course. When they brought the cashabout £180Anna rang me and sobbed; it was the first money shed ever earned, and she didnt know what to do with it.
Dont worrywell find a use for it! I laughed, but turned serious, Lets buy a few more dresses, give you work for another year or two. Lately, your minds wandered to places best left alone.
Anna didnt respond at the time, but the hurt lingered. Lately shed been dreaming of marriage more seriously. She knew all about romances from the tellyeven what lovers say and dobut with her situation, all she could do was dream.
Following her success, the centre rang and invited her to join a dance group, preparing for a duet performance.
Is that even possible? Anna blurted out, hanging up, convinced it was a joke.
They phoned again, coaxed her to at least try, promising if it didnt work, she could bow out gracefully.
You might be surprised! said a brisk female voice. Youre an award winner now, time to broaden your talent. Social care have agreedone of their workers will accompany you to rehearsals.
And who am I paired with? asked Anna.
Someone in a similar position. We want everyone in Britain to find a place for themselves!
All right, I suppose Ill give it a go
Good. Im Margaret Jones, the studio director. Be ready tomorrow after lunchthe minibus will call for you.
Sure enough, the next day this dour white-moustached driver with a severe haircut collected Anna, who went bare-headed to preserve the soft golden waves Vera had released from her curlers. There was already someone inside in a wheelchairAnnas partner, Alex. Nervously, she shook his hand, surprised by its quiet strength.
At the centre, the driver and I helped Anna up the ramp, but Alex was impressively independent. That first rehearsal went awkwardly; both flushed and sweaty as they tried to whirl in time to the music, fumbling through even the simplest movesmortifying, especially under the gaze of a tall, willowy choreographer who darted about like a dragonfly, and with the ever-watchful Margaret. But that was only the beginning. For months, Anna stuck at it, rehearsing twice a week, and I never left her side.
Autumn and winter passed, and Anna gave up embroidery, addicted now to rehearsals as if they were her dream job. Today, again, she was waiting for me.
When I arrived, I was out of sorts, quieter than usual. She picked up on it straight away.
Whats with the long face?
Nothings the matter, I tried not to pout.
Seeing my mood, Anna changed the subject.
Were only forty. Theres time enough yet to find love, start a family.
Youre still harping on about that. Ive been thereI was married for seven years. My husband left, and I cant blame him. Punishment, I suppose, for chasing after the wrong lads in my youth. A shame my parents never did get to see me with grandchildren.
Thats all in the past. If I were you, Id try again.
Oh, not this again! Im not listening to more lectures about children.
If you dont want marriage, you know you can have a child artificially nowadays.
That takes money! You think Im raking it in with this job?
I saw on the news theyre doing those procedures on the NHS now.
Look, enough for now What are you wearing to the studio?
You never let me finish! Pink jumper and grey skirt.
At least once, wear the concert dresswe had it made for you, didnt we? Its long; you need to get used to it.
Ill practice in it at the dress rehearsal. Ill only get it dirty on the bus otherwise!
The night before, we rehearsed late. Home again, I rolled Anna to the bathroom, helped her bathe, wrapped her in her dressing gown, and plonked her at the kitchen table. I brewed tea, poured it out, pushed a bowl of sweets towards her. She ignored them, and asked suddenly,
So how was your first time?
My first timewhat?
You know, with a man, Anna blushed.
I dont remember.
Dont fibyou were married, and now theres Nicholas sniffing about.
He did, for a couple of months after my divorce, then found someone younger. Nothing to envy there, I scoffed.
I think Alex likes me, Anna said, surprising me. He looks at me a certain way.
Dark-haired men always like blondesit doesnt mean anything. Best not dwell on him; itll only hurt.
But, reallyhow was it?
Oh, leave off. Drink your tea and have a bit of a lie downyoure dead pale.
Anna fell silent, and I realised shed caught that same longing Id been trying to warn her against lately. Theres no shifting it, I thought. I washed up, got my coat, and reminded her at the door,
Ill lock up and see you at lunch tomorrow. Anything you need from the shops?
You know best Anna grumbled, closing her eyes.
Have a good sleeprehearsal tomorrow!
Not a peep. This is what dancing does, I muttered on my way out, though I bit back, Shell lose her mind at this rate!
Out in the street, I resolved: I must find someone for her. People think theyre helpless, but really shes sharper than she lets on. Shouldnt have told her about Nicholas!
When Id gone, Anna regretted snapping at me. Still, I hadnt even let her talk. Now, who could she confide in? Wish I could write poetryif only. Then I could let it all out, she fretted, feeling tears prickle as her heart cramped painfully. She tried to think of anything but Alex, but there he wasin her mind, with his neat, dark hair and fathomless brown eyes. She remembered the reassurance of his steady hands at those first, terrifying rehearsals, and how much safer she felt with him. Soon the choreographer was praising herWell done!and Anna swelled with pride.
Shed gradually learned every step by heart and grown used to Alex, to me at the side, even to the electrician in his silly orange overalls always tinkering backstage.
Thinking of tomorrows dress rehearsal, nerves clutched at herwould it all go to plan? And deeper fear gnawed: what happens after? Would she ever see Alex outside rehearsals? Was she destined, unlike everyone else, never to go on a normal date, never to bring a man home so the neighbours would know she wasnt alone? Was this all the happiness shed ever get? All the more reason to make tomorrow flawless, so theyd keep inviting her to perform.
In the morning, Anna laid out her concert dressa deep violet silk dusted with sequins and crystals, flowing and quicksilver-light to the touch. She imagined herself in it, and tried not to dwell on what might come later. The main thing would be to listen to the music, follow Alex, not miss a beat, and not give anyone a chance to say, Well, what did you expect?
She would have mused all morning, but the key rattled in the lock.
All right, star, ready for the big rehearsal? I called, half teasing.
Ready, I suppose Im so nervous!
Its good youre nervousyoure not a block of wood. Come on then, best get a move on.
We took ages to get ready, rang for that cantankerous driver early so Anna could be the first to change into her dress and conquer her anxiety. Still, embarrassment struck the moment we entered the community centre. It felt as if all eyes were on her and Alex, resplendent in a black suit and bow tieand a woman accompanying him.
Backstage, Alex wheeled up, kissed Anna on the cheek, and whispered,
Dont fretitll go brilliantly.
Anna nodded, her cheek burning at his touch, resisting the urge to soothe it. In her confusion, she shut her eyes, only to feel another hand on her shoulder. She blinked, to find the woman at Alexs side, leaning on a stick.
Dont worry, youll be fine, she said gently.
Who are you? Anna managed, gripped by dread.
Alex, as if reading her mind, said,
Anna, meet my wife, Susan.
Anna nodded stiffly, spotting a wedding ring on Alexs hand that hadnt been there before. The words, the ring, all her hopes collapsedhad they ever truly belonged to her, or to some other version of herself? Stifling for breath, her head spinning, Anna fainted
Once revived, she glanced about with hollow eyes. Margaret, the studio directorkind by nature but as anxious and crackly as a dried pea podfussed in her usual hoarse voice,
Whats wrong with Fawcett? What happened?
She needs to go home, I said firmly. Shes out of energy, cant you see?
She needs a doctor! When she comes round, shes on stageno half-measures after all this work!
Whether it was those words or something inside her, Anna finally opened her eyes but wouldnt look at anyone or answer any question. All the way home on the bus, she said nothing, then nudged me as we reached her block,
Wheres Alex?
He stayed for the rehearsalhell perform with someone else. You, meanwhile, came over all delicate. Dont fret. Its probably for the best. Father Luke always said, mind! I snapped, harsher than I meant to.
Anna took offence.
The surly driver helped me carry her inside; she collapsed onto her bed still in her concert dress.
All done then, is it? he actually grinned for once.
Thats it. Off you go now! I shooed him, then sat beside Anna, asking softly, Will you now tell me what happened?
She didnt reply at first, but after a sob or two, she whispered,
Alex is married
I nearly laughed, thinking it mustve been something far worse, yet here we were.
So, youd hoped, did you? Set your heart on him?
Its none of your business, leave me alone!
I stayed put; she repeated,
Go awayand never come back. Ill manage without you! You youre a right misery.
If Anna had spat the words, Id have believed she meant them. As it was, it sounded feeble. Still, after years of looking out for her, those words stung deep. Could her foolish hopes wound so badly shed maltreat possibly the only person who truly cared for her? She had no family close by, none who wanted to know, and Id become all but her sister. Did this really change everything? Surely nobody else would care the way I hadother carers might bring bags of shopping or tidy up, then vanish for days, but I was always there. Early to cook, to wash, sometimes even staying overnight. And now thisjust a miserable old witch.
Well, thank you Anna Fawcett! I muttered bitterly.
I put on a calm face leaving, but my knees shook on the walk home. Tomorrow Ill ask to be reassignedmaybe even quit. Been offered a job at the nurseryused to work there after college, managed all right, and no one ever called me Plague then!
At home, I tried to make supper but had no appetite, so sat with tea and a biscuit, exhausted after the rehearsal marathon. As I drifted off on the sofa, my thoughts returned to Anna: Let her fend for herself for a day or twoshell see. Shes been spoiled, all these awards turning her head!
I must have dozed off properly, because I was roused by the phone. It was Father Luke, his voice urgent in the dark.
Vera, please come to Annasshe needs taking to hospital.
My heart nearly stopped. Id left her flat unlocked in my haste. Something serious must have happened. I threw on my coat and hurried out, passing an ambulance en route, panic stabbing mewas Anna inside? Arriving at the scene, I saw a police car, the priest, and some neighbours.
Whats happened to Anna? I asked, Father Luke looking abnormally tall in his clerical hat.
Suspected poisoninga call from her, very weak. She wouldnt explain. I found her collapsed, tablets scattered nearby. Called the ambulance and police.
A narrow-faced, black-browed police sergeant in a too-small jacket asked,
And you are?
Her carera social worker. Is she all right?
She tried to do herself in!
She lives well enoughlike an angel!
Someone must have driven her to it. Well get to the bottom of it. You have keys?
Of course
Come with meswitch off all electricals and lock up. Ill seal the flat. Youll need to make a statement later.
Theres nothing to sayI left her an hour ago, everything was normal.
Clearly not so normal. Thats what your statement is forwell compare it with the victims, should she survive.
What are you implying?
The sergeant entered with me and Annas neighbours.
Turn off the fridge too! he ordered.
But the food will spoil!
Put it on the balcony.
While I was doing that, I found Annas mobile.
I can take this to her at least?
Everything stays as you found it.
I obeyed, and when hed locked up, we left for the station. I only managed to thank Luke. After my statement, the officer smiled crookedly,
So, a broken heart did all this?
What else, God forgive her?
Then its nothing for us to worry about. Off you go home.
Instead, I headed to hospital. The receptionist finally confirmed itAnna Fawcett, self-poisoning, in ICU but conscious already.
Can I see her?
No chance, love. Maybe in three days, if shes moved to a ward, but the place is locked down for the flu. Who are you thenher sister?
A friend.
Thats good to hearwe thought she had no one. Want to bring her wheelchair?
Wont they have one on the ward? I bridled.
We do. Ring this number for updates. Bring the chair when shes discharged.
Heading home, at least I felt calmer, though my flat seemed gloomier and lonelier than ever. No one to ring. I stared at the phone all eveningit stayed silent. Somehow, I got through the night, rang my office in the morning to explain about Anna and ask not to be switched.
Shes still on your list, dont worry! my manager reassuredshe must have known everything.
I called the hospital daily; Anna never asked for me. On the fourth day, a new voice rang,
Is this Vera Smith?
Speaking.
Nurse hereAnna Fawcetts asked to see you. She cant have visitors but wants you to stand outside her window at one o’clock. Shes in the medical block, second floor, third window from the left, across from the main entrance.
Thank you! Can I bring her anything?
Nothingstrict isolation. Not even flowers. Sorry, its flu season.
I visited two other clients that morning, then hurried to the hospital, staking out the window but saw nothing for ages. I was about to throw a snowball when Anna peered outdrawn, pale, but eyes bright with hope. She tried to say something, chin barely reaching the sill, but you cant really chat through double glazing. For a minute or two she waved and gestured, then held up a sheet of paper: FORGIVE ME in big black letters. I shook my head and waved it off, wanting to show her there was nothing to forgive, though honestly, joy surged through meshe had thawed, she wasnt angry anymore. What a relief! When it was clearly time to go, I gave a last wave and walked away, glancing back over my shoulder at the window.
On the way home, all the gloom and worry started to lift. The sun melted the snow on the battered pavement; everythingshop windows, tower blocks, even the park over the crossroadswas bathed in a soft, golden spring light. I stood for a moment and watched it glitter from a distant church roof, realising that real spring had finally arrived, and the worst of things were left behind in the endless, icy winter. This bright sense of newness made the past weeks troubles seem not worth the fuss. Nothing left to fret about now, I thought, and with happy tears, I pictured my stubborn friend and grinned, sniffing, Oh, that Annaan absolute goat, she is!I hurried home on light feet, baking the sweet buns I knew Anna loved by heart, just in case. It felt almost ceremonial, like warming the flat for a guest long expected, for forgiveness newly granted. Later that evening, after dinner, I phoned the hospital: no better, but no worse either; she’d be ready for the ward by the next day, and, surely, home again before too long. I lay in bed in the hush, staring at the streetlamp glow outside and thought of Anna as a childsmall and serious, learning to embroider roses by her fragile lamplight, dreaming up wild worlds.
When they finally released her a week later, I arrived early with her sturdy wheelchair and the basket of buns, now wrapped warm in a gingham cloth. Anna came out bundled in the same violet scarf shed worn as a girl, frailer now but lighter somehow around the eyes. She glanced at me sideways, lips set in a line, before I gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if to say, Thats enough now. Wordlessly, she took my hand. We rode the minibus home together, laughing at a terrible old cassette the driver played, Annas head on my shoulder, her voice stronger with every mile.
Home at last, I brewed tea, prepared the cocoa just right, even poured two tall glasses of milka ritual for a fresh start. Anna watched the milk catch the afternoon light and giggled, You remember everything.
What are friends for? I grinned, feeling the last, brittle shards of winter inside me melt at last.
Later, Anna took out her embroidery bagthe linen still half-finished, bright with flowers. She plucked at the crimson threads, nodded, and said, Theres no rush anymore. I might stitch a few goats on here, and we burst into laughter, warm and thick as honey.
From then on, something new bloomed between us. Anna began writing short poems (clumsy, heartfelt), letting me read the drafts, her cheeks pink with the hope of being understood. Sometimes, when loneliness crouched by the window, shed call me for a dancein the kitchen, or on the balcony beneath the stubborn spring sun. We made plans: more embroidered dresses, a radio program for the centre, even a trip to the seaside when summer came round.
And Ipractical, impatient Verarealized Id lived my whole life holding back, afraid of heartbreak, when all along, what Id most needed was to share in the ordinary miracles: the glass of milk, the warm-lit room, the slow, brave recovery of a friend.
We never spoke of lost husbands or broken dreams again. Instead, we counted forward: stitches and steps, songs and little joys. And every time I passed the church and the golden gleam on the roof, I whispered a prayernot for what might have been, but for mornings yet to come, where forgiveness and hope set the table side by side.
And when the neighbourhood gossips called me Vera Plague, I laughed and said I carried sunshine now toobecause even the hardest winters end, and with a little care, even stubborn goats and shattered hearts can learn to love again.
