The Girl Who Cried Wolf(19)
‘Couldn’t you have got her some sort of wig?’ Even I was slightly taken aback at his tone, but instead of explaining how I hated the feel of them and that I was scared of looking ridiculous, my mother turned on her heel and left the room.
‘It’s OK, Annabel,’ he said, handing me a linen handkerchief to indicate the tears could stop now. ‘I’ll have Leona find one for you.’ Leona was his personal assistant and in charge of our birthday and Christmas presents if Father was working away. ‘The very best!’ He sounded so triumphant that I neglected to mention I had screamed and spat in my mother’s face the day she brought a selection of wigs into the hospital for me.
‘Thanks, Daddy. I need to freshen up, I’ll see you downstairs.’
After he leaves, their shouting in the kitchen finds its familiar path through the echoing walls of Elm Tree to my bedroom. I couldn’t hear everything, but I did make out something about her being bloody useless. Too right.
***
With my new, rather chic, pale blonde wig and Izzy’s eyebrow magic, I critique my latest reflection a little less harshly. The wig is from a London boutique, made of real hair, and my father even paid a stylist to come to our house and cut it for me. It now frames my face with a sweeping fringe and layers flow down past my shoulders. I tell Izzy as often as possible that I no longer have split ends, and what a shame she does.
I declined Father’s offer to take me to London to have it cut at a salon. The tablets I rely on really do make me tired, although lately I have started to take even more as they do not seem to be working as quickly. I shake less, though, and am even steadier on my feet. So much for taking too many – I felt better!
So it is with relieved expressions that Jules and Eddie see me walk into the living room. This is their first visit since I left hospital and I note they have found Father’s wine rack.
We all hug a bit awkwardly and sit down on the deep set sofas. I am much brighter and though I still feel that someone has ripped my heart out and stuck it in a blender, I push Michael to the back of my mind and smile at my friends.
‘You look fine to me!’ Eddie says after knocking back his first glass of wine. ‘You really are a big faker, Anna Winters. Obviously nothing the bloody matter with you!’
Jules is also topping her glass up and I have only taken two sips. Alcohol has lost its appeal lately, so while I appreciate Eddie’s good humour, that alone tells me I’m not at all well.
‘You do look great, hun,’ Jules tells me, drinking Father’s Chateauneuf-du-Pape as though it were Vimto. ‘We were really worried about you after the hospital visit. I mean, you could have warned us!’
Her laugh is a bit hollow and I take a few more sips of wine, feeling vulnerable. I look over my shoulder and see the brass bell I had found in Father’s office. It started off as a joke but I’d taken to ringing it quite frequently for Izzy. She appears seconds later and Jules and Eddie start laughing, which breaks the tension, but only a little.
‘What now, Anna?’ Izzy looks very cross, which makes them laugh harder. ‘I’m trying to do homework. I can’t drop everything every time you want a cup of tea or your toenails painted!’
I secretly love it when Izzy gets so mad at me; it makes me feel less like an invalid and more like the bossy sister who has always driven her crazy.
‘More wine.’
I lift the empty bottle and glare at her defiantly as she eyes the expensive label. As I stare at her, I try to tell my sister, just by my opening my eyes a little wider, that I am not comfortable and I need her.
She rolls her eyes dramatically, but I know she gets it as she returns a few minutes later with a slightly less expensive bottle and a juice for herself. She plonks herself next to me protectively and calls me a loser.
I feel better now she has joined us, and I tell her she is fat.
***
We drink wine until the afternoon descends into November twilight, and Eddie says they should go because he only has one headlight on his old Volkswagen Golf. He yawns dramatically and stands up. ‘I need an early night, anyway, the neighbour’s dog howls all night like a banshee.’
‘Your neighbour doesn’t have a dog.’ I sound confused, remembering the mean-spirited drunk who lives in the rundown house next door to theirs – Hardly an animal-loving type.
‘He does now,’ Jules says, as she and Eddie look nervously at each other. ‘Speaking of home, and I know this may not be the best time what with your, err …’
‘Brain tumour?’ I offer silently.
‘… Illness and all that, but we’ve missed you coming round. So don’t be a stranger, eh?’
A tiny part of me wondered if they missed me or the bottles of booze I used to bring.
They both mumble their goodbyes and I hear Izzy telling them curtly that no, she couldn’t lend them a few quid for petrol.
Izzy comes back in and says, ‘Hope he gets done for drink driving. What a prick.’
I would have normally defended my friends, but I say nothing and let her cover me with a blanket while I fall asleep in front of the crackling fire.
***
I open my eyes to the dreaded smell of nut loaf. Since I have been home my mother’s attempts at healthy cooking have become depressingly worse. My heart lifts a little when I remember that Father will be joining us, and I even manage to eat some crusty bread and butter while he smiles at me approvingly.