They had been sitting together in the apartment, having their usual two hours’ practice – a daily routine of spelling out difficult words, learning new ones, and trying to increase the speed of their communication. They were now both very quick at this, and already there was developing between them a kind of shorthand – the letter ‘R’ for ‘are’, ‘2’ for ‘to’, ‘MT’ for ‘empty’ – which would make it quicker still in the future. All such tricks seemed to bring wonderful pleasure to Esther, as if between them they were fooling the whole pedantic world … There had been a pause in their movements, and then Esther suddenly gripped Mrs Bannister’s arm, and spelled out: “Where are my eyes?”

Mrs Bannister frowned, thinking at first that Esther was either ‘practising’ a sentence with no particular significance, or initiating another of her childish jokes. But the girl repeated the question, and to emphasize it she put up her hand and covered both her eyes, as if with a bandage. Mrs Bannister paused, and then spelled: “They were hurt.”

“How?” asked Esther immediately.

“There was an–” began Mrs Bannister. Then she hesitated. ‘Explosion’ might be too difficult. She altered it to: “A bang.”

Esther thought for a moment. Then her hand went up again, and touched in turn her ears and her mouth, questioningly.

Mrs Bannister said: “Yes.”

“How long back?” was the next question.

“Five years,” said Mrs Bannister.

There was a longer pause now, while Esther appeared to be thinking. Five years must seem a lifetime – as indeed it was … Then came another question: “Will it get better?”

“Yes. Soon.” Mrs Bannister had no hesitation in giving such an answer, though it had not an atom of truth in it. In Esther’s blind world, there could be little to live on save hope, and hope must never be denied her.

She had expected that the girl would continue on the same subject, but Esther’s next phrase was a surprise.

“The other children.”

Mrs Bannister did not understand at first, and then she remembered. There had been other children with Esther when the ‘bang’ happened. Perhaps she had been wondering about them for five years … It seemed better to tell the truth.

“They were killed.”

There was another long pause, and then a small sob shook the girl, and tears started from her eyes and fell down her cheeks. At a loss, Mrs Bannister waited, pressing Esther’s hand. Then she added: “It was very quick.”

Esther nodded. Her face now seemed to be remembering something, something that perhaps she should have remembered before. She drew the next sentence slowly, as if from a very old lesson indeed.

“They are in Heaven,” said Esther.

Then another quick question: “Where is my mother?”

“She is far away,” said Mrs Bannister. “This is a new country.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend.”

Now came the longest pause of all, full of the past and the future, and then Esther leant across and laid her cheek softly on Mrs Bannister’s. Both of them could feel the tears on Esther’s face, and presently the girl drew back and, with a heart-rending smile – half apology, half loving trust – wiped off the tears with her fingertips. Then she spelled out, slowly and with special emphasis: “You are very good.”