CONSIDER THE LILIES. A Short story

Lucy’s ball was always going over into next door’s garden. This hadn’t been a problem for some time since the house had been empty but Lucy could now see that there were again curtains at the windows. That meant she would have to go and ask whoever had moved in if she could have her ball returned.

Nervously she rang the bell and waited. When the door was opened she saw a very strange man standing in front of her. The sight of the man, covered as he was in purple lumps and scars, horrified the child who did not know that he suffered from a genetic disorder which caused benign tumours to grow on nerve endings throughout his body or that he had to have regular hospital treatment to have them surgically removed. Although she stood transfixed, frozen to the spot with wide eyes, she didn’t attempt to run away or scream. “May I have my ball back please”? She asked. “Yes this time”, the man agreed “but I don’t want you to keep throwing them into my garden. Consider the lilies growing there and consider the windows. I came here for peace and quiet and I don’t expect to have to keep retrieving children’s lost balls”. “Sorry”, was all she could think of to say. When she had her ball back she ran from him then as if pursued by a pride of lions.

“Mummy, have you seen that strange man who lives next door”? Lucy enquired of her mother. “What do you mean strange”? Her mother queried. “Well he looks like a monster from outer space. His face is all lumpy and frightening and I bet he’s an alien.” “Don’t be silly dear”, her mother said. “He’s probably a very nice man and anyway I’ve told you before not to bother the neighbours.” “I wasn’t”! Lucy said with feeling. “But my ball went over the fence and I went to get it back.” “I’ve told you before not to throw it so high. You could break windows and it’s a nuisance keep pestering other people to have them returned.” “Don’t worry I won’t”, Lucy replied. “I never want to see him again. He’s horrible.”

Norman munched another solitary breakfast. He’d got used to living alone, to being alone, to being turned off buses and out of restaurants and to having people pointing and staring and remarking in loud voices on what a sight he looked. He thought not for the first time how little it matters whether he wears nice clothes, shoes or has a smart hair cut, the face is always the first thing people see and in films and horror movies the evil people are depicted as ugly. Before you know it the snap judgements have been made and he has been irrevocably classified as repulsive. Who buys the dented baked bean tin on the shelf? Norman shook himself out of his reverie. This was self-pity, something he didn’t normally go in for. He’d done a silly thing the other day though. He’d reprimanded a little girl for throwing her ball into his garden when all he’d really wanted to do was take her into his arms and tell her it was fine. He’d been there before though. Mothers seeing him getting too close to their children would hastily pull them away, telling them that they ought not to touch him in case they get his disease. In fact neurofibromatosis is neither infectious nor contagious. If the children weren’t frightened before they were by the time the parents had finished with them. Then there are the issues around child abuse. Any strange man either in looks or unknown to the child is open to the charge of attempted child abuse if he shows unsolicited affection to an unfamiliar child. So he did not what his instincts told him but what society demands – Keep his distance.

Three days after Lucy’s birthday Norman saw her tear-stained face across the fence. Her bicycle, a new birthday present was broken. “Look!” She called to him, her fears countered by her distress. “I can see. Would you like me to mend it for you then”? He asked. “Can you”? She replied. “I’ve just said so haven’t I? Bring it round here then and I will see what I can do then. You’d better ask your mother first though.” As she stood at his side, watching her possession being restored to its former glory, she blurted out the question: “Why are you so ugly”? The bluntness made him start and drop his spanner. “Because”, was all he said. “Because what”, Lucy persisted. “You are inquisitive”, he said. “And why do you always finish your sentences with then”? She asked. “Because”, was the reply he gave for the second time. He eventually straightened up, having finished the repair work and mending the punctured tyre. She beamed with pleasure at the sight of his handiwork. “I have a big sugary doughnut in my kitchen”, he told her. “Come and have it”. She hesitated for a split second but the temptation of the sweet thing once more countered her fear. She ran with him and to her delight saw his cat snoozing on a chair. “What’s it called”? She enquired. “A cat”. He teased. “I know that silly. What’s its name?” “Mog”, he told her. While she ate and drank fizzy orange, she told him about her father, about how he got killed in the ‘fork’ lands and that if he’d lived he’d have been ‘’’ and then she stopped, checking herself before once more using the word “ugly” in case she hurt his feelings. “And how old is Lucy then?” He asked her. “Nine. That bike was my birthday present.” Norman took her to his front room and showed her where the Falklands were on a map. Over the coming months they were together a lot.

Eventually he had to go to hospital again for more surgery. “Will they make you better?”? Lucy asked. “Well in a way. They will take these lumps off but others will come in their place”. Well never mind. You don’t look as ugly as you did when we first saw you.” She said in an important voice. “In fact I think you look rather nice”. The tears rolled down his face and Lucy told him not to cry as the nurses would be nice to him. Her mother had nursed burns victims once and had learned to see them as people first – Something most of us find almost impossible to do.

When Lucy and her mother peeped round his hospital ward door he was sitting up in bed after his operation. Lucy had a big bunch of flowers in her hand and her mother a basket of fruit. During the dark hours of the night his thoughts had often returned to the girl. He knew that he’d come to love her and she him. She would kiss him with the openness of a child, full of innocence and free from vulgar overtones or fear. She told him when he came home he should teach her to play drafts. “That’s easy”, he teased. “Just keep swinging the door back and forth”. “Not that sort, silly, the game! She shouted in his ear. Lucy now told him all their news and asked him about his face, wanting every gory detail of the surgery. Her embarrassed mother apologising as she finished off his grapes. He just laughed and exaggerated all the horror of his experiences.

When he and her mother were married Lucy was their bridesmaid. People wondered what had made her marry him. Some concluded it was pity and others that it was a kinky fascination with a freak but Lucy knew as only a child does that he was a lovely and loving man who like a pine cone had opened out in the sunshine of their love and given them his. He in his turn knew why a child is at the heart of the Christian religion and why we are told we are to become as they are if we are to inherit the kingdom of heaven which to him had truly seemed to come to earth. When one woman said: “Look at that monster out with that child”! Lucy replied with fury: “He’s not a monster! He’s my friend and now he’s my daddy too”. Then they raced each other to the park, joyously happy to face another day.