The Girl Who Cried Wolf(45)
I tell her to be quiet as Michael comes running out of the house, followed by a Black Labrador and a Jack Russell yapping at his feet. He hugs us all and invites Izzy in for drinks but Mother politely declines and we eye each other nervously. I know she does not want be rude, but I have not told Michael that my father has left, and we certainly do not want to discuss the reasons why.
He raises his eyebrows at me and I smile confidently. ‘They have to get back to Freedom, Michael. He has err, separation anxiety!’
He looks unconvinced but welcomes them back anytime, and Mother promises they will as she waves and drives away.
My feeling of shyness returns until Michael pulls me into a bear hug and kisses the top of my head. ‘I’m so glad you decided to spend New Year with us, darling. I was disappointed you couldn’t come sooner. Is everything all right?’
I reach up on my toes and kiss his smooth jaw. ‘It is now,’ I tell him, and he picks up my bags and leads me to the house.
His father and step-mother are hovering in the hallway as we ascend the steps and cross the porch. ‘Hello. Anna, I’m Michael, M.J.’s father. This is Caroline.’ I step forward to shake their hands but they both hug me and I laugh, raising my eyes at Michael when his father calls him M.J.
‘Michael Junior,’ he tells me, emphasising his American accent and tipping his baseball cap.
‘I like it,’ I say laughing. ‘It’s so nice to meet you both. M.J. has told me a lot about you, and Sunrise Ranch is beautiful.’
His father smiles warmly and I like him already. He does not look like Michael at all; his eyes and hair are very dark and his skin is deeply tanned. Michael has blue eyes and his hair has grown back dark blond, which he still keeps shaved close to his head.
Caroline looks a little older than my mother, perhaps about forty-five and her brown hair is wild and her curly, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief.
‘Well, Anna, we have certainly heard a lot about you over the last few months. We have been positively dying to meet you, but M.J. kept putting us off.’
‘Oh, that was my fault, Caroline,’ I jump to his defence. ‘I wanted to feel a little better first.’
Caroline puts her arm around me as she leads us into an enormous kitchen, ‘He told us how poorly you have you been, and how brave you are.’ She sees my slight discomfort and tactfully changes the subject. ‘Well, you’re here now; that’s all that matters, right? I know you’re still in recovery but can I tempt you with a little tipple to warm your cockles?’
I nod happily as she pours each of us a warm, heady mixture from a bubbling pan. I smell cinnamon and taste brandy as I drink from the crystal cup and Michael’s father tells me it is their special ‘hot toddy.’
We talk for a little while and I find myself trying hard to keep my eyes open, but the kitchen is so warm and even the tiniest tot of alcohol goes straight to my head these days.
Michael puts his arm around me and orders me to take a nap before dinner. ‘It’s only two o’ clock, so if you have a few hours sleep now then you might stand a chance of staying awake until midnight with me.’
I let him lead me to a cosy guest room and smile to myself as I slip under the warm blankets. Our surroundings were indeed apt, for wild horses could not have stopped me seeing in the New Year in with Michael.
***
I had ordered him to wake me up no later than seven, but find myself waking up naturally, and the clock on the wall tells me it is only quarter past six. I am pleased to have a little time to freshen up and get changed, and am happier still to find that my room has a pleasant en-suite.
I pick up my wig from beside the bed and head into the bathroom with my overnight bag. I don’t think I have time for a shower, and would prefer not to wash away Izzy’s carefully sculpted eyebrow magic, so I just wash myself and spray on some floral deodorant and perfume. I look at my reflection critically and pray that Michael does not come in and see me like this. My pretty peach underwear cannot distract from my jutting hips and visible chest bones, and I find myself wishing I could gain even a little weight, but the medication I still need to take has entirely crushed my appetite. I make a mental note to eat more even if I don’t really feel like it, otherwise I shall be stuck with this skeletal reflection for the foreseeable future. I shake my head and look more closely at my face as I apply some moisturiser. There are still persistent dark circles under my eyes, but I have grown quite accomplished at hiding those with concealer, and after applying a little blusher, my skin looks glowing. Izzy has shown me how to apply eyebrows but I never get it as perfect as she does, although thankfully now I have a line to follow as some of my brows are slowly returning. I smudge grey kohl pencil around my few lashes and plump up my lips with gloss. When I am satisfied with my face I remove the net that secures my wig and set about replacing the dressing for my scar.
Rather than healing quickly, as Mr Raj had assured it would, the groove of the scar is angry and red, feeling hot to the touch. I sigh inwardly as I hear him telling me sternly not to wear my wig and net for at least six weeks after the operation, but I find I cannot possibly maintain such instruction. I could not have sat opposite Father on Christmas Day with no hair – not that that mattered to me at all any more. I would have rather died than go to Jules’ party looking wretched, and I could hardly meet my boyfriend’s family looking like I had escaped from a prisoner of war camp.