The Mind's Eye

The Mind's Eye - Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Idrys Pengelly

I told Leighton about the horrible Doctor Bickerstaff when we got back to Ty Gwyn and he called him some names that I didn’t know were even in a ten year old’s vocabulary. I should have told him off for them, but in truth it made me happy to see Leigh go for him. He promised me that when he grew big and strong he’d punch the nasty doctor on the nose, but as he mimicked the punches I noticed his hands were pink and pruney. I made him come closer so I could take a look.

“What have you been up to?” I asked him, looking at the crinkly skin on his little palms.

“Blod made me wash up the dinner service,” he said with a scowl, “There were loads of dishes. She says someone special is coming to dinner.”

“And I’ll bet Mam asked her to do it, not you,” I added with a frown.

We were in the kitchen having a drink when the culprit returned to the scene of the crime. Blod strode in wearing a flowing cotton dress and high heeled shoes. She had a sunhat on and a magazine and I knew exactly what she had been doing whilst Leighton was enslaved with her chores.

“Enjoy yourself catching the last bit of summer, did you Blod?” I asked.

She turned with a wicked grin, taking off her hat. “I’m trying to keep my legs a nice colour for the harvest dance,” she explained, “Not your kind of concern, I suppose.”

I had tried to reason that Blod might come around to our presence in time, but twenty four hours with the young woman had done nothing to support that idea. Blodwyn Price was a cow, and that was that.

“Listen you,” I said, channelling all my rage from the Doctor Bickerstaff encounter into my voice, “You don’t tell my brother what to do. Only Mam’s in charge of us here. Not you and not anyone else.”

“Oh really?” Blod answered, “And what are you going to do? Leap out of that chair and knock me down if I’m mean to you? I don’t think so somehow.”

I was all the more angry because she was right. If there was ever a time to learn to propel myself in this chair it was now. Perhaps if I got good enough I could run her over.

“No, but I’m sure Mam would have something to say about the state of Leighton’s hands,” I countered.

Blod’s beautiful face faltered for just a moment. “Well, if you want me to get on with the chores so badly, then clear out the pair of you. Bampi’s coming for dinner and he’s not going to want to see you scruffy articles cluttering up the place.”

Leigh took the handles of my chair and pushed me out of the kitchen slowly. When we made it to the black and white hall I told him to stop and open my bedroom door. As he did so I reached down beside my leg and produced the old pair of leather driving gloves that Mam had fished out of her husband’s old trunk. Leighton watched me from the door. I put on the tough gloves and gripped the wheels of my chair, starting to push.

But nothing happened. The pressure wasn’t enough. I pushed harder, feeling my elbows start to strain. When they were stretched so far out that my shoulders started to tense I felt movement at last, but the pain was too much to push again. I had to stop for breath. I had wheeled half an inch, perhaps less, and already my bones were creaking. I dropped my arms, exhausted. I could feel my heart banging on my ribcage in protest at the effort.

“Honestly that Doctor’s got no clue,” I sighed, “How does he think this is even possible?”

Leighton made his punching motions again and I laughed, taking off the gloves.