One thing about this place that Miss Brown will likely always remember is that, despite it being built in the 70s (which wasn't so far away), it was not wheelchair-friendly, and did not seem to have been designed ever to be.
Of course, it would not have mattered much to her on the other occasions when she was here- in those years she was physically very mobile, and she did not have to worry about steps or staircases or which Court was on which floor.
But this was a situation where her Representative said she had to turn up.
Even though her physical mobility had fallen way down the line (compared to before) and now could not get around for extended distances except when being pushed around on a wheelchair.
Where once it did not matter so much before, now the lifts at the Courts became very important.
How many times Miss Brown had to squeeze through the crowd of people standing there all waiting for the same lift, she didnt' know, but there were probably at least five. The crowd always gave her priority- that she knew- and even though she didn't really express her thanks- her mind wasn't always there and everything was so distracting- she was glad for the favor.
After all everyone was there for a reason, and most of the reasons could not have been very pleasant.
One thing she never would understand, however, was how it was that she and her daughter never seemed to be able to take the same lift together. It wasn't that she deliberately waited or anything like that. It just seemed to be that way.
And she was a little puzzled.
Because if they had to be at the same place at the same time, and if it looked like they were on the same side, could they then not arrange to meet together and go in together like how at other occasions at other places they used to do?
But that wasn't happening this time.
She didn't know if it was her, or her daughter, but no matter how early or how late she got there, her daughter would already be sitting outside the wooden doors on the plastic chairs outside, looking more solemn than she had ever seen her before.
Miss Brown didn't like it one bit at all.
Because her daughter never glanced over at her side.
No matter how hard she kept her gaze continuously fixed on her daughter- she stared and stared and stared so hard the girl must have felt her mother's longing gaze- the girl never once looked across at her.
What would she have done for a look, a single look, a single bit of acknowledgement!
But that didn't happen.
Not one time.
It was as if mother and daughter were playing a game of cat and mouse with each other and the mouse always managed to outwit the cat to make its escape.
And then one day when she turned up at the Courts, Miss Brown was told that she didn't need to get to the upper floors at all.
It wasn't because she didn't need to make an appearance.
It was because the room she was supposed to appear in was on the mezzanine floor where there was no lift access, no one was available to help her up there, and so she was granted special permission to be excused from the appearance this time. All she needed to do was to wait on the ground floor.
Miss Brown sat on her wheelchair and fixated her eyes on the staircase leading to the mezzanine floor.
The outcome of the session she didn't care so much- she knew that black-suited young man- her Representative- would later come down and explain it to her, or her caregiver. Whatever would be would then be, whatever she needed to do she would then do.
But right now she wanted to concentrate on the people who would later be coming down the steps.
Maybe she would get to spot her, maybe she would come down the steps right in front of her eyes, and Miss Brown was sure, very sure, that with her aged, elderly mother sitting on a wheelchair right in front of her eyes, no way, ABSOLUTELY no way, would her daughter miss the sight of her.
Where once it did not matter so much before, now the lifts at the Courts became very important.
How many times Miss Brown had to squeeze through the crowd of people standing there all waiting for the same lift, she didnt' know, but there were probably at least five. The crowd always gave her priority- that she knew- and even though she didn't really express her thanks- her mind wasn't always there and everything was so distracting- she was glad for the favor.
After all everyone was there for a reason, and most of the reasons could not have been very pleasant.
One thing she never would understand, however, was how it was that she and her daughter never seemed to be able to take the same lift together. It wasn't that she deliberately waited or anything like that. It just seemed to be that way.
And she was a little puzzled.
Because if they had to be at the same place at the same time, and if it looked like they were on the same side, could they then not arrange to meet together and go in together like how at other occasions at other places they used to do?
But that wasn't happening this time.
She didn't know if it was her, or her daughter, but no matter how early or how late she got there, her daughter would already be sitting outside the wooden doors on the plastic chairs outside, looking more solemn than she had ever seen her before.
Miss Brown didn't like it one bit at all.
Because her daughter never glanced over at her side.
No matter how hard she kept her gaze continuously fixed on her daughter- she stared and stared and stared so hard the girl must have felt her mother's longing gaze- the girl never once looked across at her.
What would she have done for a look, a single look, a single bit of acknowledgement!
But that didn't happen.
Not one time.
It was as if mother and daughter were playing a game of cat and mouse with each other and the mouse always managed to outwit the cat to make its escape.
And then one day when she turned up at the Courts, Miss Brown was told that she didn't need to get to the upper floors at all.
It wasn't because she didn't need to make an appearance.
It was because the room she was supposed to appear in was on the mezzanine floor where there was no lift access, no one was available to help her up there, and so she was granted special permission to be excused from the appearance this time. All she needed to do was to wait on the ground floor.
Miss Brown sat on her wheelchair and fixated her eyes on the staircase leading to the mezzanine floor.
The outcome of the session she didn't care so much- she knew that black-suited young man- her Representative- would later come down and explain it to her, or her caregiver. Whatever would be would then be, whatever she needed to do she would then do.
But right now she wanted to concentrate on the people who would later be coming down the steps.
Maybe she would get to spot her, maybe she would come down the steps right in front of her eyes, and Miss Brown was sure, very sure, that with her aged, elderly mother sitting on a wheelchair right in front of her eyes, no way, ABSOLUTELY no way, would her daughter miss the sight of her.