‘No way,’ Rhys says easily, releasing the handbrake. ‘You’re the one we wanted anyway.’
I grin. ‘Definitely. It would have been weirder if he’d turned up without you.’
She laughs. ‘That’s true.’
As we head towards Whipsnade, I think about everything Rhys said about how I talk to other people and forget he’s there, so I make a real effort with him and Tem, diligently translating everything she says, even the stuff that has nothing to do with him. I can see that Tem, too, is trying her hardest with Rhys by how normal she is acting, as if going on a day trip with her quiet best friend and her deaf boyfriend is something she does all the time. She talks at her normal volume but slightly slower than usual, facing Rhys as she speaks. She does this even as I sign.
I suggest that I buy the tickets and, because they are who they are, they don’t make shocked faces, grab my arm and remind me that this will involve talking to a complete stranger. They don’t laugh and ask who I am and what I’ve done with the real Steffi.
And when I go to the desk and buy three tickets – I even ask for the concession price – the ceiling doesn’t collapse and the floor doesn’t cave in under me and the woman doesn’t laugh in my face. My voice wobbles slightly at first, but it doesn’t desert me. I think about how proud my therapist will be when I tell her. I almost turn cartwheels of happiness across the floor.
But I don’t, obviously, because I’m still me, albeit happier and chattier than usual.
This might not sound like a big deal, and I know that for most people it wouldn’t be, but for me it feels revelatory. When I am happy and relaxed, when I’m with people I absolutely trust – who love me whether I talk or not – I can talk. I can talk willingly and voluntarily. To strangers. I want to bottle this discovery and carry it with me everywhere. Lose the fear, find my voice. So simple. And, yet, so rare.
We spend the day wandering around the zoo together in the sunshine. Rhys diligently signs the names of all the animals for Tem, who scrunches her face in concentration every time and tries to mimic the movements, with varying degrees of success. When we get to the red pandas she shrieks with happiness, grabbing hold of my wrist and squeezing. They’re not giant pandas – our one true love – but they’re close enough. Rhys, a broad smile on his face, takes a dozen pictures of Tem and me, arms round each other, beaming like kids.
Tem insists on buying an overpriced Whispnade lollipop before we leave, even though I know for a fact she will get bored of it after ten minutes and throw it away within a week. ‘Don’t you ever get tired of being sensible all the time?’ she asks me, peeling off the plastic. ‘Live a little.’
‘I’m not sure solidified E-numbers count as living a little.’ The two of us are leaning against one of the picnic benches, waiting for Rhys.
‘Oh my God, listen to you.’ Tem rolls her eyes. ‘Solidified E-numbers.’
‘That’s what they are,’ I say. ‘And, hey, remember how I have anxiety? Sensible is a coping technique.’
She smiles, part of her mouth obscured by the lurid pink swirls of the lollipop. ‘Or a handy excuse.’
The door to the shop opens and Rhys appears, a small Whipsnade bag in his hand. ‘What did you get?’ Tem calls, then remembers herself. She tries again, lowering the lollipop and speaking more clearly. ‘Did you buy something?’
Rhys grins and nods, settling against the bench beside me. Look at this, he says to me, and pulls a postcard out of the bag. At first, I don’t get it. It’s a photo of two lions sitting beside one another in what looks like the lion version of a hug. It’s a cute photo and I look up at Rhys, trying to guess what’s he’s seen in it, why he looks so pleased.
Look, he signs again. He points at the lion with the giant mane. Gold, he signs. And . . . he points to the lioness, whose ears are tipped with a rich reddish glow. It’s probably the way the light catches them, but it looks an awful lot like . . . Bronze, Rhys says. He’s smiling. Bronze and Gold. It’s us!
‘Let me see,’ Tem says, coming to stand beside me and craning her neck to get a look. ‘That’s cute. It looks like they’re hugging.’
I don’t explain. I just smile and nod, then reach up to kiss Rhys, even though Tem is right there and I know she’ll tease me about the PDA later. You’re so soppy, I tease.
For a second he looks unsure. Is that OK?
I laugh. Of course! I reach for his hand and squeeze it, leading the way towards the car.
‘God, you guys are sickening,’ Tem says, following. ‘I’m getting diabetes just looking at you.’
At her request, Rhys drops Tem and me off together at my house so she can stay over. We’re the kinds of friends who don’t need advance notice for sleepovers – we even keep pyjamas at each other’s houses. By the time we are settled in my room she is quiet and contemplative, rubbing her fingers over Rita’s back.
‘So,’ I say. ‘Thoughts on Rhys?’