I have known Shona Fisher since we were in primary school. We didn’t start in the same class, but when my classmates starting whether I had a sister in Purple Class, I just had to meet her. I didn’t think we looked very much alike, but we did both have long, light brown hair and brown eyes. Even so, it was over a year before we became friends, as she lived a 5 minute drive from the school in one direction, whereas I lived a 10 minute walk away in the opposite direction. When we reached year 2, we were put into the same class. I’m not sure whether it was a good idea that Mrs. Johnson sat us side-by-side or not, but that is certainly what caused our friendship to start to grow. As we did more and more together, we became known as “the Twinnies”; Shona was “Big Twinnie,” on account of the fact that she was about an inch taller than me, and I was “Little Twinnie.” Certainly, more than once, Mrs. Johnson called me Shona, or called Shona, Juliette (my name), and we did nothing to help; we had no choice in our uniform, but when one of us had a haircut, the other followed suit within a couple of days. Once or twice, when Mrs. Johnson was away, we swapped seats for the cover teacher; sometimes we answered to each other’s names, and on other occasions, we didn’t. It became easier to tell us apart in year 3, as on her eighth birthday, Shona came into school wearing glasses. She said she had told her mum that she had been having a bit of trouble reading what was written on the board from her seat at the back of the room, and when she went to the optician, he had agreed and she had got the glasses. She wore them almost all of the time in school, but when I went round to see her, she seldom wore them. She said that she didn’t need them all of the time in school, but that it was easier to wear them than find that she had left them at home and couldn’t see properly. I tried them on a couple of times; they didn’t seem to make much of a difference. I think she also appreciated my friendship as she was the only one in our class who wore glasses, and a number of the others had taken to calling her “Four Eyes.” One or two of them asked me when I was going to get glasses so that we could properly be the Twinnies again, so I told my mum that I was having difficulty reading the board, and she took me and my older sister to the optician. It turned out that Jenny was a little longsighted and had to get glasses, but there was nothing wrong with my eyes. Shona and I got on really well together. We had similar interests, were both fairly conscientious about our school work, and never caused trouble, so we stayed in the same class as each other all the way though primary school. Once a year or so, Shona would get a new pair of glasses. When she turned 11, she started to wear them all of the time – not because she had been told to, but because she felt that they made her look more grown-up. It was true, they did make her look more like my older sister, and once or twice, when we went to the cinema together, I borrowed the glasses she had got in year 4, so that we did look like twins again; the ones she had got in year 3 were too small for me, and those she had worn in year 5 – the second pair, as she had broken the first ones – were a totally different style. As well as spending time with each other inside school, our interests outside school were fairly similar. We were both fairly sporty, and at the age of 10, we decided we wanted to join a club of some sorts. We tried a few out before we settled on swimming (it was while we were trying tennis that Shona was hit by a ball, which was what caused her glasses to break). It also meant that she wasn’t worried about not being able to see what she was doing. As well as going to training twice a week, we took part in swimming galas several times a year. Although we might have dressed alike both in and out of the pool, when it came to racing, there was no difficulty in telling us apart; the extra inch in height meant that Shona was able to swim that bit faster than me, so unless she was feeling slightly under the weather, she always beat me. When it came to choosing secondary schools, there was never a question that we weren’t going to go to the same one, and although we were in different classes for registration, our similar academic ability meant that we ended up in the same sets for pretty much everything else, even if we seldom sat next to each other. The one exception to this was in our English lessons, where Mrs. Hughes had us sitting side-by-side. A couple of months into term, it became apparent that she was not going to be with us the whole year, as her increasingly ample figure made it obvious to everyone that she was pregnant, and, as she told us after half term, she was expecting twin boys. At the beginning of February, she vanished in the middle of a week, and we were told that her twins had been born six weeks early. After a few lessons with random supply teachers, we were told that Mrs. Hughes’ maternity cover, Mr. Lillywhite, was starting straight after half term. I don’t know what made us decide to do it, but for his first lesson, I borrowed Shona’s glasses, and we swapped seats. Most of the work was on the board, and as we were both sitting in the second row, we just about coped. Shona could see well enough to copy what she had to, and as her head was slightly bigger than mine, her glasses had a tendency to slip slightly, so I made it look like I was only wearing them for copying off the board. At the end of the lesson, we both had a bit of a headache. The next lesson, we went back to normal – or, at least, we tried. Mr. Lillywhite was obviously more observant than we had given him credit for. He took one look at Shona, and said to her, “Juliette, give Shona her glasses back.” Shona tried to protest that they were her glasses, but she hadn’t managed more than a couple of words before Mr. Lillywhite stopped her, and pointed out that I had a spot on my chin (it was true – I hadn’t got round to buying anything to shift it), and that was how he knew that I was Shona and that I needed my glasses to see. At the end of the lesson, I had a chronic headache, as it had been a double period where we had done a lot of reading and writing, whereas Shona felt fine. I made a point of stopping at the chemist on the way home to get a tube of spot remover! The next lesson, Shona hid her glasses completely, and when Mr. Lillywhite told me to put my glasses on so I could see the board clearly, I told him that I was trying out contact lenses that day. When Monday came around, just before the lesson, we made it look as if Shona had the last vestiges of a spot on her face (mine had almost disappeared, and we had hidden what remained with a little concealer), and she wore her own glasses. When Mr. Lillywhite made a comment about her being back in glasses, she told him that she had swimming club that evening, and that it was easier to wear glasses for the day, as you weren’t supposed to wear contacts when swimming, even with goggles on. In addition, she had prescription goggles (which was news to me) so her contacts would have been worse than useless. I think that was the last time we swapped places to try to fool anyone else. Just over a year later, my parents announced that we were going to be moving house, to somewhere a little bigger. My first fear was that I was going to be leaving Shona, as we looked at a number of houses about ten miles away, and this would have meant moving to a different school. In the end, however, the house four doors down from Shona came on the market, so we bought it. I was pleased on two counts; firstly, I would be able to see my best friend whenever I wanted, and secondly, I would no longer have to share a room with Jenny, so I would have my own space. The downside was that we were not going to be able to afford a holiday that year, but to me, this was a secondary consideration. Nine o’clock on the first day of the holiday, and the doorbell rang. “Surprise!” said Shona. “It’s only me. What do you think?” “Err… Very nice. Do come in. It’s only me here. My parents are at work, and Jenny has got herself a holiday job.” Shona had changed the black, plastic glasses, which had been an integral part of her look for most of the last six years for a pair of gold wayfarer-style glasses. They looked good on her, although it was taking me a few minutes to get used to the change. “You didn’t tell me you were getting new glasses!” I admonished her. “You didn’t ask.” I couldn’t argue with that; I hadn’t. “I had to get my mum to get me an appointment at the optician’s, as I was struggling to see with my old glasses. Apparently, my eyes have changed so much that I now have to have extra-thin lenses, and I have to get my eyes tested again in six months, as he thinks my eyes are going to change a lot more in the next year or two.” She took them off and passed them to me. “You try them.” I put the glasses on, as instructed. When I had worn Shona’s glasses in the English lessons, I could see enough to cope, but this was something else. I went to take them off straight away, but Shona stopped me. “They really suit you, Jules. Look, I’ll show you.” She got her camera out to take a picture, but I stopped her. “Let me go and put some proper clothes on before you do that,” I said. “And brush my hair.” A few minutes later, we did the photo properly. I tried to look at the picture on Shona’s phone, but the glasses were too strong for me to see little more than colours and shapes, so I took them off and handed them back to her. “Rather you than me, with those.” “I don’t have any choice in the matter. Either I wear these, or I can’t see.” “Why don’t you get contact lenses?” “Yuk. I can’t stand the thought of putting anything in my eyes. Anyway, that’s enough about my new glasses; what are your plans for the next six weeks?” I hadn’t really given the issue much thought. I had thought that I was going to be busy helping my parents unpack all of the boxes for a couple of them, but as both of my parents had only taken the Friday off work for moving, they made it perfectly clear that they wanted to be able to unpack at their own rate, and that I was to leave things alone unless specifically told otherwise – and my own small room had taken all of an hour and a half to organise (plus another couple of hours on the Sunday afternoon when I had moved everything around, and then put it all back again as I preferred it the first way.) “Why don’t you come away with us next week? I’ve already asked my parents and it’s fine by them, as long as you can get to and from Newquay, as we won’t have space in the car with all the luggage.” “I don’t know. It’s a long drive, but I can but ask.” As it turned out, my parents thought it was an excellent idea, but they didn’t fancy the long drive, so they started to look into the cost of the train. It was while they were discussing the best time for me to arrive, that Shona’s mum suggested flying from Gatwick. My dad thought the cost would be prohibitive, but by the time we had added in two return tickets to London for him, the cost of the flights was actually a few pounds cheaper. I was really excited, as I had never flown before, and only had a passport as I had been on a school trip to the Belgian battlefields the year before. The next few days passed in rather a blur. Shona and I spent a few days hanging out together, before she set off on the Friday to cut down the journey time on the Saturday. They were going to spend a night in a hotel somewhere, so that her parents could do a parkrun on the way down (they were exercise freaks!) I was due to fly down on the Sunday afternoon, and come back on the Friday evening nearly two weeks later. I had a hard time packing my suitcase, because I knew there was a weight limit on the flight, and that I couldn’t rely on my parents to carry the case at the airport (its wheels had broken off many years ago). The journey to Newquay passed without incident. We got to Gatwick ridiculously early, but better that than miss the flight. As everything was new to me, I watched the safety demonstration extra carefully, and spent much of the flight trying to work out what I could see out of the window. When we arrived in Newquay, Shona’s family were waiting there to meet me, and we drove the last few miles to the cottage where we were staying. It was a converted barn on a working farm – very quiet, except at milking time! Monday morning dawned, and the sun was shining brightly. There was only one thing we could do that day, so armed with picnic, windshield, bodyboards, towels and swimming costumes, we headed to the beach. The surf was up, as well, and we spent the best part of an hour in the water before we decided to ride one last wave before lunch. I selected the largest wave I could see, waited for the right moment to launch myself, but at this point, the elastic on my swimming goggles gave up the ghost. I just about managed to grab hold of what was left of them as I was engulfed by the surf, but it took no time at all to establish that the damage was irreparable, so I binned them as I made my way to the toilets to wash the salt and sand off my hands before we ate our picnic. After lunch, we spent an hour or so sunbathing, before Shona’s younger brother, Connor, insisted that we all play cricket with him. As a guest, I could hardly refuse. After that, we all wanted to go back into the sea to cool off a bit, and wash the sand off. At this point, I remembered that I had just had to throw my goggles away. “Don’t worry, you can use my old pair,” Shona offered me. “I’m pretty sure they’re in the bottom of my swimming bag.” The moment I put them on, I realised that these were prescription goggles, designed for people who wore glasses. “I think you’ve given me the wrong pair,” I said to Shona, as we were halfway down to where the tide was. “These are your prescription goggles.” “But they’ve only got a weak prescription in them. Look, this is my new pair; they’re a -4, and they aren’t quite as strong as my glasses.” I could certainly tell that they were stronger than the pair she had lent me; as to whether they were weaker than her glasses, I really couldn’t tell. Besides, if I didn’t wear the weaker goggles, what was I going to do with them? “Can you see through them?” “The distance is a bit fuzzy, and I’m glad I haven’t got to wear them to read, like I did that time Mr. Lillywhite forced me to wear your glasses for an hour and a half, but I’ll manage. I’ll see whether I can get a normal pair of goggles before we come down to the beach tomorrow.” After a few minutes in the water, I had completely forgotten that I was wearing prescription goggles. Things in the distance seemed clear enough, and although it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust when I needed to demist them, it wasn’t really a problem. We did look into buying some normal goggles in town the following morning, on our way to the beach, but it was clear that the prices had been massively inflated, and as I had not suffered any ill effects from the Shona’s goggles, she told me I could keep them, and save my money for something more useful, like ice-creams. We spent most of the next two weeks on the beach, as the weather was glorious. We topped up our tans every day, and spent several hours swimming and surfing. Although we only lived half a mile from the sea, there was something special about being able to go surfing. On the rare occasions when there might have been enough surf at home, you wouldn’t have wanted to venture anywhere near the water as it would have meant that a storm was raging. All too soon, the holiday was over, and I had to fly back to London. The weekend without Shona around felt empty, but we had already made our plans to meet up again on the Monday morning, and either go to the beach or our local lido, depending on the tide – they were only a few hundred yards apart. As the long, hot Summer seemed to go on for weeks, we went almost every day at one or other of them (and occasionally both) until it was time to go back to school. New teachers, new classrooms and one or two new subjects awaited me – as did the discovery that I couldn’t read the board from the back row, and that it was difficult to read from the seat in front of it, as well. Where possible, I asked to be moved to a seat where I would be able to see, and when I got home, I did a little experiment with the goggles and the television in my bedroom. I discovered that I could see it best if I held the goggles about an inch from my face, and that I could see it better with the goggles, than without, if I strained my eyes a bit. Whether to tell my mum or not, was the dilemma I faced. I knew I would be taken for my annual eye exam during the October half term, and I knew what my outcome would be, but decided to bite the bullet anyway. It took a week or so to mention it to my mum, and then another week until the appointment. Everything started much as it had the previous occasions I had had my eyes tested. Looking at the little farmhouse in the machine, the horrible contraption that blows a puff of air into the eyes, the counting how many little lights you can see and then the flash photo of the back of the eyes. And then the nervous wait, to find out how you did. I had to wait a little longer than I would have liked, as, to avoid having to make a second trip to the optician’s several weeks later, Jenny had come along, too. I waited as patiently as I could while she had her eyes examined. I could read most of the letters from my chair at the side of the room, but not the very bottom row. “Well, Jenny, the good news is that you don’t need new glasses, although both of your eyes need a slightly stronger prescription, so if you decide you want to get a new pair, we would put that prescription into them.” I knew Jenny would be quite pleased with this. She didn’t like having to wear glasses, but she did like trying clothes and make-up on, so this was perfect for her. After checking it was okay with the optician, my mum went out to help her choose some new frames, and left me alone to settle into the big, black chair. Even while the optician was asking me various questions about my health and interests, I was looking at the letters on the chart. The two big letters at the top were perfectly clear, and I could make out the three underneath, but that was all that was on the chart at that moment, so I couldn’t do any more. Finally, she placed the chunky trial frame on my face, and put something in front of my left eye so I couldn’t see with it. In the past, I’d had various lenses put into the frame and then taken out again, before ending up looking through the empty frames and being told that I didn’t need glasses. This time, it was different. A lens in a red holder was put into the frame, and this enabled me to read the next line on the chart. Then another one was added, and I could see a bit more. Then these two lenses were replaced by one, and another one inserted. I lost track of how many lenses I was given to try. The ones in red holders usually made it easier for me to see; the ones in the black made it harder. Then, I was shown a red and green chart, and asked which was clearer. I remember that Jenny had said “green” both times, so that is what I was expecting – except that, for me, I found the red was clearer, until I was given an extra lens, and they were both about the same. After the process had been repeated with my right eye, the optician took off the chunky trial frames, and used various lights and machines to look deeply into my eyes. “Well, Juliette, you were right. You have become a bit short-sighted. I’ll just call your mum in, and I’ll tell you a bit more, but if she’s here, it will save me saying everything twice.” When mum was sitting down (Jenny was still trying frames on), the optician started. “You were right to bring Juliette back in before the year was up. She has become quite short-sighted in the last ten months or so, and will need to wear glasses from now on. I can correct her vision to 6/6 with -1.25 lenses, although the red/green test indicates that she could also wear -1.50. Her glasses,” she turned to look at me for a moment, “your glasses, won’t be particularly strong, but it is a big change in such a short space of time. I’m going to prescribe the -1.25 lenses for now, but I’d like to see you back here in 6 months’ time, but,” here she turned to look at my mum, “don’t be surprised if you have to come back before then.” I knew exactly what sort of frame I was going to choose, but there was one thing I needed to know before then. “How often should I wear them?” “Whenever you want to see clearly. You’ve already discovered that you will need them for looking at the board in school, so they’ll help with anything in the distance, but it won’t do you any harm at all if you wear them all of the time.” A week later, and I was wearing my very own pair of gold, wayfarer-style glasses, so Shona and I looked like twins again. For the sake of keeping up appearances, I resolved to wear them all of the time. We tried swapping glasses, but Shona’s were definitely too strong for me, and mine made little difference to her eyes. She wasn’t sure that she couldn’t see better when she wore both pairs together, but was sure that the combination was too strong for her to wear for more than a couple of minutes. We kept up the swimming through Autumn and into Winter, but only once a week in the local swimming pool. I continued to wear the prescription goggles, as I was so used to wearing my glasses, that everything felt very blurry when I didn’t. I managed to last five months before I had to get my eyes tested again. I picked up my new glasses on the first Saturday in March, and went round to see Shona before we went to the swimming pool as usual. “Well, what do you think,” I asked her. “Of what?” She sounded confused. “Have you had your hair trimmed? Got a new pair of earrings?” “My new glasses.” “But they’re the same as the old ones! How was I supposed to notice that?” “Well, the lenses are a little thicker. Can’t you tell?” “No. And besides, you didn’t notice when I got new glasses a few weeks back.” “But you got exactly the same frames as before, too.” “Well, we couldn’t not look like the Twinnies, could we? Anyway, how strong are your new glasses?” I showed her the prescription sheet. OD -2.00 OS -2.00. “That’s exactly the same strength as my old goggles. I’m sorry about that. I feel like it’s all my fault.” “Don’t worry about it, Shona. It may well have happened anyway. Tell me about your new glasses. How strong are they now?” I tried them on. The blur was much as it had been before – perhaps a little less so, as my eyes were now worse as well. “Hang on a moment. Here’s my prescription sheet.” I opened it to look at the numbers: OD -5.00 -0.25 180 OS -4.75 -0.50 180. “As well as getting these new glasses, I got a pair of -5.00 swimming goggles, to help me see when I’m in the water. You can have my old pair, in case you need them.” As Shona was in such a lively mood, I took them from her and thanked her. I knew she wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. “Why don’t you give them a try?” They certainly weren’t as strong as I remembered them, presumably because I needed half of the correction that they provided just to see normally. It was a bit like the first time I had worn the goggles on the beach in Newquay, just eight months ago: with a bit of concentration, I could see fairly clearly. “Don’t you want to keep them, just in case?” “At the rate I’m going, I’ll be needing to buy the -6.00 ones by Christmas.” If my eyes were getting worse naturally, I’d be needing the -4.00 goggles by Christmas, I thought to myself, and -6.00 by the following Summer. Of course, if the changes in my eyes had been caused by wearing the goggles in the first place, I knew what would happen if I wore the stronger ones before I actually needed them. What I didn’t know, was what I really wanted. As Shona and I set off for the swimming pool, I put the stronger goggles right at the bottom of my swimming bag; for emergency use only, for the time being, or if I decided otherwise…