Deaf to the world

Gina wasn' t only Phil' s employee, she was his lifesaver too¼

Gina Thomson?' That' s how all the trouble began. A policewoman stood on my doorstep not long past 6am, as I trembled in my dressing gown.

I thought of my mother miles away and my brother down on the coast.

Yes, what is it? What' s happened?'

You' re employed by a Mr Phil Davis? I' m afraid his property caught fire last night. First impressions are it wasn' t an accident. He' s OK, but a bit shaken up. I just wondered if I could ask you a few questions.'

Thank heavens you' re all right,' I said to Phil hours later, after the hospital discharged him.

He arrived at my place still covered in soot ÐÐ wearing clothes I can only assume the police had provided, since the sweatshirt didn' t quite cover his middle and the jogging bottoms ended halfway up his ankles.

He carried a plastic bag full of rescued personal effects, like his wallet and passport.

Inside my lounge, he set them down on the coffee table. He let out a strangled cough, then his hands flashed through a series of signs.

Phil' s deaf. He runs a firm teaching sign language. Not usually a high-risk venture.

I' d learnt the skill as a girl from my deaf uncle. After honing my talents at Phil' s school two years earlier, he' d hired me as his interpreter.

Sorry, about all this,' he said, his long fingers always graceful. Can I stay for a few days? I could really do with a shower too.'

I agreed, of course.

As he got cleaned up, I found some clothes my ex still planned to collect. Who knew they' d come in useful?

Once dressed and in my lounge, I filled my employer full of coffee.

Tell me what happened.' He ran a hand through his still wet hair.

I was asleep' , he signed. I woke when my pillow started vibrating.''

I knew it took its cues from his smoke alarm.

I felt at the door but it was already hot,'' he went on. `` I daren'' t open it. I went to the window instead, but it was locked. I hunted for the key, then started to panic when I couldn'' t find it.

I decided to try the door again, but when I opened it the fire had spread all the way down the hall. My mobile was in the lounge too, so I couldn' t text for help.'

He shook his head, his eyes darting about as if he could still see the flames dancing about the walls.

I resisted the urged to rush over and comfort him as his tale continued. I' d known him long enough to realise he had a million layers.

You' d think he was simply a handsome, charismatic guy. But if Phil was a shop, that would be nothing but his window display. Behind the scenes lay a darker side.

The way he does his company books for example. He always owes somebody for something. He hadn' t paid me for a month.

I' d told him on Monday he had until Friday to settle up. Now on that very day, he sat in my house, signing away. I could have died, Gina.' He blew out a long slow breath then rubbed his eyes, the enormity of his brush with death clearly leaving him undone.

I did move then. I went over, sat next to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

He turned my way and wrapped me up, his hug fierce and desperate.

I pulled away so he could see my words.

Did you tell the police everything? I mean about the people you owe? They' ve always known you have money not attached to the company, Phil. You sitting on it was bound to make somebody angry one day.'

His parents had died years before we' d met. They' d left him a treasure-trove of cash and antiques.

He liked the good things in life. One half of his home proved it, full of expensive furniture and fancy gadgets.

The other portion, his office in the lean-to, stood in stark contrast full of cheap desks, cheap chairs and cheap computer equipment. He shook his head.

That' s my money. The business accounts are separate.'

And how' s that working out for you?'

If the business did in fact have the resources to pay up, then the only conclusion I could draw was he enjoyed the power he wielded. He withheld the cash as long as he could, as some sort of revenge on a world still treating those with disabilities as second class citizens.

I stopped him signing a reply, holding his fingers.

I' m going to make you something to eat, then you need some sleep,' I said. I expect the police will be in touch again soon. Save your strength.'

And your excuses.

He blew out a long slow breath, the enormity of his brush with death clearly leaving him undone

After I' d fed him bacon and eggs and he' d gone up to my spare room, I tidied up the

kitchen, then sat in the lounge of my little terrace and made a list.

I needed to write down everybody he owed money to.

Johnson & Son, a building firm, for a start.

Casey Lakey, his solicitor for sure. He needed a good one, the games he played.

Stuart Hench, a decorator. He' d done a job for Phil, only Phil had refused to pay him, calling the work substandard.

Phil even owed the gardener who tended his flower beds. If you' d done any work for him, it was likely he still owed you for it.

The doorbell interrupted my musings. I assumed the police had returned.

When I opened the front door, I blinked. Back to the top of my list Johnson & Son, the builders. I hadn' t really expected a suspect to turn up so soon.

Paul, the son of the duo, and also my ex (or should I say my six-month long fling) leant into the door frame.

We' d met in a pub, then

I' d recommended him to

Phil when he wanted to alter the roof of his office.

I' m guessing wonder boy is here,' Paul said. I saw the state of his bungalow this morning as I drove past on the way to a job. So I decided to have a quick word with Maud at number 20 I fixed her guttering once, and she' s normally into everybody' s business. She said somebody tried to flame-grill Phil. Is he OK? Alive, but slightly crispy?' It' s not funny, Paul.'

No, it' s not. Neither is owing me and my dad five grand. Has this taught him a lesson? Is he at all worried somebody' s out to get him? Where is he, in your bed?' I scowled.

Paul had jealous streak, though we' d parted for other reasons like his total inability to turn up on time or put me first in front of finishing a kitchen extension. He' s not my boyfriend.'

No, but do you think he' d like one more little asset to tuck away out of reach? Be careful, is what I' m saying. He knows how to make himself unpopular. That' s if he didn' t set the fire himself.'

He told me a police officer had to break his bedroom window to get him out,' I snapped. If he hadn' t passed by when he did,

Phil would have died of smoke inhalation. That' s not a terribly good plan for an insurance claim, is it?

I think someone who knew the codes to the burglar alarm, and where the spare key was, did it. He wouldn' t have heard them, they could have thumped about for hours as he slept.'

Paul glanced around as a police car drew into the kerb right next to his white builder' s van. He gave a huff.

I still hope they' re here to arrest him.'

Bye then, Paul,' I said dismissively. Thanks for your heartfelt concern.'

With that, he slunk away as two police officers walked towards my door.

Gina Thomson?' one of them said. Good morning.'

They asked Phil more questions. He sat in my lounge and I interpreted his signs.

Now he' d got over the worst of the shock, they wanted to know if he' d thought of any more suspects. I completed my list and handed it over in case he' d left anybody out.

Did Phil' s computer survive?' I asked. They' ll be more details on there. I' m sure Phil would be happy to share.'

I didn' t hold back.

He needed to sort himself out and stop hanging on to every penny to the point of death.

When the police finally left this time around, he sat looking morose.

Do you think they' ll try again? Am I putting you in danger?' he signed.

Maybe I ought to order some CCTV? Though I don' t really have the money for it. It would help if you paid me?'

He nodded.

I could do it now. I have my bank card. I' ll pay for the rest when the bill arrives.'

Yeah right, you' re so good at settling your debts, Phil.'

While he went to fetch his card so he could make a bank transfer, I booted up my laptop.

I entered key words into a search

Has this taught him a lesson? Is he at all worried somebodyÕ s out to get him?Õ

engine, hunting for fresh headlines.

Local Deaf Man in Horror Blaze our local rag seemed to be taking lessons from the tabloids.

The report contained scant details, but one of their reporters had taken a snap.

Phil' s big bungalow took up the screen, a little smoke soiling the front windows.

The cheap lean-to that Phil had tacked on to the side of the building to house his office equipment, however, had burnt to ashes.

How convenient for an insurance scam on the business side of things.

Then again, who' d altered the ugly flat roof to a pitched one with tiles? Paul and his dad, that' s who.

They' d toiled over it for a week, carrying up timbers, concrete, tiles and insulation.

Ichewed at my lip as Phil came back in, carrying his bank card.

Our gazes locked. A very odd moment passed.

Come on then,' I urged, to shatter it. Pay me. I assume it' ll come out of the business account and not your personal one?'

I handed over my computer and he set to work.

I wondered if I' d receive a bonus for room, board and food, but this was Phil.

When he handed over the machine and I checked my account, he' d transferred precisely what he owed and not a penny more.

Nothing for the CCTV set-up in advance.

Maybe I ought to set fire to you tonight myself,' I murmured behind my screen, making sure that he couldn' t lip-read what I was saying.

I went back online and booked in a company to fit some cameras.

In that moment, I' d committed myself to Phil overstaying his welcome.

Still, who else would have him? He didn' t have any family or any friends that I knew of. He' d isolated himself completely.

He had problems, clearly, and not only because someone wanted him dead.

I did look up one more thing that night before bed

the policeman who' d rescued him.

I wanted his name, since Phil hadn' t mentioned it.

Phil,' I said, waving a hand to get his attention.

He sat across from me reading the subtitles on a news programme.

You ought to send the officer who helped you a thank you, even if it' s just a card? He' s called PC Lewis. A reporter interviewed him.'

He nodded to me and signed: OK, good idea.'

When he went back to his programme, I delved deeper.

I discovered the PC had an Instagram page. It all looked very innocent and strait-laced

just right for a boy in blue, full of pictures of him in official settings.

In one snap, anybody else would assume he was simply gesticulating to a woman with a service dog. A man deep in conversation, you' d assume.

Only to me, it looked like he was signing.

It made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

I took another look at Phil as the what-ifs stacked up.

Did he have a friend after all? Was his rescue a set-up?

Later, when I went to bed, I suspected that an arsonist lay restlessly shifting about in my spare room. But I hadn' t a clue what was to come.

It made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I took another look at Phil as the whatifs stacked up

Something startled me awake later that night. I checked over to the glow of my bedside clock. 2.24am.

A loud, yelled No!' made

me jump. I knew Phil wouldn' t be yelling in his sleep profoundly deaf from birth, he couldn' t form even simple words. The noise must have originated from outside in the street.

Peering out the window, the first thing I noticed was a big white van I recognised.

The next thing I saw made me gasp. Paul was wrestling his big brawny dad down the pavement. He yanked him back so far, before the man surged towards my house and my door.

No, Dad!' Paul yelled.

Stop it, you' re drunk.'

Grabbing my dressing gown, I padded out on to the landing.

Shush, I thought.

But why be quiet? Phil wouldn' t hear a thing.

I raced for the narrow stairwell, bumping off the walls I descended so fast.

Flinging open the front door, I stepped outside, the concrete underfoot cold and damp with drizzle.

What are you doing?' I demanded of the two men.

Seeing me brought Paul' s dad to his senses. He blinked for a moment, before his alcohol-soaked brain fired back into life.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost as Paul grabbed him.

Don' t say anything,' he snapped, before glancing back to me. He had a few too many at home. Mum rang when he left. I guessed he' d come round here. He wants his money. We both do.'

I' d gone out with Paul long enough to figure him out. I knew when he claimed he planned to see his mother, he actually planned to go see his mates down the local.

I knew when he said a job would take four hours and he' d be back for dinner, he' d turn up around nine.

You' re lying, Paul.'

Without replying, he hauled his dad back towards his van, pushing him into the passenger seat with all the grace of a man loading a sack of potatoes.

Closing the door, he glanced at my neighbours' houses, then checked the row of shops across the road.

No curtains twitched and nobody hurried out to investigate.

He strode towards me, so fast that I stepped away.

Gina¼' he began.

Don' t,' I said, cutting him off. Don' t lie. Your dad set the fire, didn' t he? For what, the sake of £5000?'

You don' t get it, do you?' he sighed. We' re going under because of people like Phil, people who don' t pay their debts on time. If Phil hadn' t been so arrogant, winding Dad up over it, maybe the fire would never have happened. It' s like he wanted somebody to snap.

The truth is, Dad came here to confess. He only meant to shake Phil up. He' d just rolled out of the boozer when he did it. In anybody else' s house, they' d have heard him thundering about.

You can' t tell the police, Gina. He can' t go to jail. He wouldn' t survive it. You know he wouldn' t. Please, if you want to fix this, then fix Phil before somebody else comes after him and does a better job than a drunk at the end of his tether. We were never here, OK?'

He turned about and walked away, leaving me standing shell-shocked.

I knew Paul' s dad. He' d always whistle when he worked on Phil' s roof. He' d grin when I took them a brew.

Thank you, pet,' he' d say. You' re the best girlfriend Paul ever had.'

Now what? I asked myself in the dark. Call the police or make Phil pay his debts?

Idithered over my decision all night, not sleeping for a second. I knew I' d reached a tipping point. I couldn' t delay things any longer.

Morning,' I said, as Phil sloped into the kitchen later, his hair a tangle, face gaunt.

I stood making my 100th cup of coffee still feeling like a woman standing on the edge of a cliff. Paul might have had a jealous streak, and he might have messed me around a few times, but there remained one more reason why we' d split up.

Now, I decided I' d wasted enough time thinking Phil was a total demon.

I strode across the tiles, took his face in my hands and pulled him towards me.

Our lips met. He resisted for about one second then joined in whole-heartedly.

When I stepped back, still holding his face in my palms, I stared at his forehead, imagining his brain as messy as an abandoned bookcase.

I' d guessed long ago his parents used to deal with all the tricky business dealings that he now attempted to reign over, like a prince with a chip on his shoulder.

I' d promised myself I wouldn' t fall for a man so obviously damaged and I don' t mean because of his lack of hearing either.

Only, we' re all damaged, aren' t we? Every single one.

Please, if you want to fix this, then fix Phil before somebody else comes after himÕ

I' m going to sort your life out, if you let me?' I said.

You' re a mess, Phil. You' re infuriating. It makes me so angry when you string people along just because you can. That really isn' t the kind of attention you need. I hope you' ve learnt that lesson now.

From this day forward, I' m taking over the books. I' ll make sure everybody is paid

including me. No matter where the money comes from, you need to settle your debts. Nod if you agree.'

He nodded, stunned by this turn of events.

I wasn' t sure if this is what Paul meant by me sorting

Phil out, but I knew all along he' d noticed the simmering attraction between me and my employer.

Phil signed something, that I won' t translate.

It was a private little message, something cute, silly, yet heartbreaking about how he' d thought we' d never get together.

It made me believe I hadn' t just made a mistake in following my feelings.

Burn, baby burn, I thought as Phil kissed me again.

There is one last thing I need to mention.

To this day, the police haven' t caught the arsonist but Paul' s dad did look sober and very pleased, the day I paid him in full.