Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit Read Online Free PDF

twenty minutes, and I didn’t hear a word; just sat there reading my Bible and thinking what a long book it was. Of course this seeming modesty made them all the more convinced.
    I thought no one was talking to me and the others thought I wasn’t talking to them. But on the night I realized I couldn’t hear anything I went downstairs and wrote on a piece of paper, ‘Mother, the world is very quiet.’
    My mother nodded and carried on with her book. She had got it in the post that morning from Pastor Spratt. It was a description of missionary life called
Other Continents Know Him Too
.
    I couldn’t attract her attention, so I took an orange and went back to bed. I had to find out for myself.
    Someone had given me a recorder and a tune book for mybirthday, so I propped myself up against the pillows and piped out a couple of verses of
Auld Lang Syne
.
    I could see my fingers moving, but there was no sound.
    I tried
Little Brown Jug
.
    Nothing.
    In despair I started to beat out the rhythm section of
Ol’ Man River
.
    Nothing.
    And nothing I could do till morning.
    The next day I leapt out of bed determined to explain to my mother what was wrong.
    There was no one in the house.
    My breakfast had been left on the kitchenette with a short note.
    ‘Dear Jeanette,
    We have gone to the hospital to pray for Auntie Betty. Her leg is very loose.
    Love mother.’
    So I spent the day as well as I could, and finally decided to go for a walk. That walk was my salvation. I met Miss Jewsbury who played the oboe and conducted the Sisterhood choir. She was very clever.
    ‘But she’s not holy,’ Mrs White had once said. Miss Jews-bury must have said hello to me, and I must have ignored her. She hadn’t been to church for a long time because of her tour of the Midlands with the Salvation Symphony Orchestra, and so she didn’t know that I was supposed to be full of the spirit. She stood in front of me opening and shutting her mouth, which was very large on account of the oboe, and pulling her eyebrows into the middle of her head. I took hold of her hand and led her into the post office. Then I picked up one of the pens and wrote on the back of a child allowance form,
    ‘Dear Miss Jewsbury,
    I can’t hear a thing.’
    She looked at me in horror and, taking the pen herself, wrote, ‘What is. your mother doing about it? Why aren’t you in bed?’
    By now there was no room left on the child allowanceform so I had to use Who to Contact in the Event of An Emergency.
    ‘Dear Miss Jewsbury,’ I wrote,
    ‘My mother doesn’t know. She’s at the hospital with Auntie Betty. I was in bed last night.’
    Miss Jewsbury just stared and stared. She stared for so long I began to think about going home. Then she snatched my hand and whisked me off to the hospital. When we got there my mother and some others were gathered around Auntie Betty’s bed singing choruses. My mother saw us, looked a bit surprised, but didn’t get up. Miss Jewsbury tapped her on the elbow, and started doing the routine with her mouth and eyebrows. My mother just shook and shook her head. Finally Miss Jewsbury yelled so loud even I heard it. ‘This child’s not full of the Spirit,’ she screamed, ‘she’s deaf.’
    Everyone in the hospital turned to peer at me. I went very red, and stared at Auntie Betty’s water jug. The worst thing was not knowing at all what was going on. Then a doctor came over to us, very angry, and then he and Miss Jewsbury waved their arms at each other. The Faithful had gone back to their chorus sheets as though nothing was happening at all.
    The doctor and Miss Jewsbury whisked me away to a cold room full of equipment, and made me lie down. The doctor kept tapping me in different places and shaking his head.
    And it was all absolutely silent.
    Then my mother arrived and seemed to understand what was going on. She signed a form, and wrote me another note.
    ‘Dear Jeanette,
    There’s nothing wrong, you’re just a bit deaf. Why didn’t you