I’d sit with him, showing him old photographs of our life together, hoping for a glimmer of recognition. But he had a short attention span, like a child, and the harder I encouraged him to remember the past, the more frustrated he became. The children found it even harder. This wasn’t the father they knew, the one who spent hours playing games with them, tickling them until they cried with laughter.


Since Allen was still officially in the Navy, we often received invitations to social events. We rarely went because his head injury meant that his speech was slurred, but for me these events provided an opportunity to put Allen in the company of people he might recognise. But then, I overheard an ex-colleague say: ‘Poor old Parton’ — and I became acutely aware of how much Allen would have hated his pity. And so did I.


I loved the man I married, but there were times when I hated the man he’d become. I tried so hard to help him, to get our lives back on track, but I got nothing in return. Not a day went by when I didn’t feel like just upping and leaving him, but I always convinced myself to stay, arguing that I should give it ‘just one more day’. Somehow, I was convinced that my love and care would eventually bring the old Allen back. I just needed to hold on.


But one day, he pushed me too far. I was so furious with him that I stormed out. ‘That’s it!’ I yelled. ‘That’s enough of your selfishness.’ When I eventually returned home, Allen was gone.


Three hours later, I received a call from the Naval rehabilitation unit at HMS Collingwood. He’d admitted himself. I was still angry, yet also relieved to have found him. But when I asked him why he’d left, he replied: ‘Because I’m stuck with a woman I don’t want to be with. An angry woman I don’t know and don’t love.’ Despite that, I took him home again and, unbelievably, the battle between us continued for almost six years.


Then came the chance meeting that changed our lives. We were visiting a local garden centre when we saw a woman who was puppy-walking a guide dog. Allen’s reaction to the dog was miraculous. For the first time, he was animated and interested in something.


Inspired, I looked for a newspaper cutting I’d put to one side about a local charity called


www.raf-ff.org.uk


Canine Partners, which trains assistance dogs for the disabled. A month later, I became one of their puppy-walkers.


At that time, Allen was still attending the rehab unit, but one morning he missed his bus and had to come to work with me. That was the day a golden Labrador puppy first made eye contact with an angry man in a wheelchair.


The puppy, Endal, looked at Allen and decided to bring him a toy. Then he brought him another, and another, until Allen’s lap was piled high with dog toys. It was then that Allen smiled. It was the sign the dog had been waiting for. He placed a paw on his lap and a remarkable friendship began.


Endal’s arrival in our home was the start of a happier life for us all. Amazingly, the dog helped Allen to dress, pick things up from the floor, open doors and fill and empty the washing machine. When people on the street stopped to talk to the dog, Allen had no choice but to engage with them, too — with the result that we saw a massive improvement in his communication skills. Allen’s speech is now back to normal.


It seems crazy that a dog could make such a difference, but by restoring his independence Endal gave Allen the confidence and dignity he needed. The dog took a huge strain off me, because I was no longer Allen’s sole carer. The children, who were then aged 12 and 13, adored Endal, and he provided a much-needed bridge between them and their father.


From that day, little by little, we started to build an extraordinary friendship and we began to talk. Never about the past or future, only the present, which is the only time frame he can work in. Gradually, over several years, we became a team once more, and very slowly we fell in love all over again.


One of Allen’s doctors once suggested that I put him in care and move on with my life. But I don’t give up that easily, and besides, Allen is my life.


Endal received the Dicken medal for animal bravery and the book Allen and Sandra wrote about their experiences in 2009 became an international bestseller – and is now being made into a Hollywood movie. “Apparently Kate Winslet is set to play Sandra and Colin Firth me”, laughs Allen. 


Envoy Spring 2012 15


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