The Girl Who Cried Wolf(15)
Dad was furious with our mother, and we looked at each other with widened eyes as he asked her to go upstairs so they could ‘Discuss this privately.’
I heard a lot of banging and imagined her throwing things and shouting. My father never lost his temper so I knew it was her – Always making things miserable.
‘I don’t remember Dad even being there,’ says Izzy, as I remember his annoyance that our mother hadn’t taken better care of us. ‘I hardly remember him at all. He was always working when we were little. I just remember Mum.’
‘Yes, working all hours because she was spending his money on that stupid bloody house. It’s not even a home, it’s like a museum.’
‘Not our special room though, that was always a tip! God, I haven’t been up there for years, not since we left primary school.’
The room Izzy is talking about is the attic which Mother had converted into a playroom for us when we were young. It was full of toys and a rocking horse, and it was certainly very pretty with its flowery wallpaper. But what no one, certainly not Izzy, remembers is that the mother she tries to defend used to lock us in that beautiful room and leave us there.
***
Michael came to my room a little while later, with chocolate as promised. I eyed the Twix nervously, as the half a KitKat I’d eaten earlier was like an eight-course banquet these days. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful but I didn’t want to throw up in front of him either. So I nibbled the piece he gave me and sighed gratefully as he bit into the second biscuit himself.
‘I came back ages ago but you and your sister looked like you needed to be alone.’
He looked a little concerned, so I smile bravely and told him, ‘Thank you. Izzy always makes me feel better. I mean she drives me around the bend and back, but, you know …’
‘You love her?’
I shrug, a little embarrassed as I am not exactly in touch with my emotional side.
‘Yes, I do,’ I replied. Then, just in case he thought he might love her also, I added, ‘When she’s not being immature she’s OK, I suppose. Bit childish, really. She still picks her nose.’
Michael did his funny half laugh and I felt like he was laughing at me, so I nibbled at the Twix a little more seductively. I considered fluttering my eyelashes before I remembered I had none.
My old friend self-doubt stopped by for a visit, and I started to wonder why he was being so nice to me. He knew I was a goner, did he just feel sorry for me? I can’t stand being pitied, so I pushed the thought away with a more comforting replacement. ‘Of course!’ I told myself. ‘He just wants to have sex with me. He has a thing for invalids because we are desperate and needy. He thinks I will be so grateful for some attention in my current state that he can just push me on the bed and have his way with me!’
God, if only. Until now he had been a perfect gentleman, possibly because a matter of days ago he had undergone an eight-hour surgery to remove the tumour by his spine. I’d spent as much time in his room while he was in recovery as possible. And during those simple days, I had started to feel a little better too.
In my determination to make Michael eat, I sat an example by making the effort myself, and even Mr Raj said I had a little colour in my cheeks. He said this with a twinkle in his eye, and I think most of the staff thought that the chance of love blossoming on the oncology ward was a welcome if surprising occurrence.
Not that they had dared to say so. My mood swings were still unpredictable, although looking after Michael, however briefly, made me forget my own plight for a while. One night I kissed his forehead and actually went back to my own room smiling. I was walking on air and if anyone had seen me sailing through ward five in the silent hours before dawn they would have thought I’d change places with no one.
So feelings were certainly growing between us. Yet here he was, sitting a respectable distance away from me in his wheelchair, absentmindedly eating half a Twix. I hoped he was secretly wondering what colour my underwear was.
He may have read my mind as I blushed and he smiled at me again. ‘So, this is weird.’
‘What is?’ My heart was beating suddenly fast.
‘Well, you know.’ He looked a little awkward. ‘We haven’t exactly met in the usual circumstances. We’re both ill and stuck in this place … and you’re leaving tomorrow. I like you so much, Anna. I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other.’
It would have taken me days, perhaps weeks, to think of a way to say those same words to Michael. He just said what he thought, and I wished I could be like that instead of considering all angles: whether or not opening up would work in my favour, or if I’d be rejected. I followed his lead instead.
‘I like you too – A lot, actually. It just feels doomed; beginnings should be movie dates and romantic strolls, not brain tumours and imminent death.’
‘I saw your mum in the canteen,’ he said eagerly. ‘She said you can get through this. In fact, she’s sure that you will. I really like her, Anna; she has such a good way of looking at things and cares about you so much.’
I said the next words very slowly, as though I couldn’t quite believe them. ‘You’ve been talking to my mother?’
He missed my tone and carried on, blissfully unaware of the tornado picking up ferocious momentum.
‘Yes, we had a coffee while you and Izzy were talking. She looked very upset so I joined her and we had a really nice conversation. She told me about you when you were little, how strong-minded you are. She’s so sure you’ll get through this it really inspired me. After what you told me I thought there was no hope, but Lillian says Mr Raj is brilliant … and perhaps you were being a bit pessimistic about your prognosis.’