The Girl Who Cried Wolf(49)

I try to conceal my look of horror as Izzy giggles and Mother looks delighted.

I climb up the stairs to my room, leaving them talking while I take a few moments to myself. As promised, I take off my wig and place it back on the stand Mother bought for me. Leaning forward in my dressing room mirror I see that the scar is still swollen and painful. I curse inwardly that it should have been enough to have a bloody brain tumour without this on top of everything. I remember Mr Raj prescribing me some healing cream, which I had not used as he told me it was only if the scar did not heal by itself. I rummage around in the drawers to find it as Izzy walks in.

‘What you lost?’ she asks me, plonking herself down on the bed.

‘My scar isn’t healing. Mr Raj gave me some cream and I can’t find it.’

Izzy backs out the room and returns a few moments later with the little tube. ‘We may have borrowed it for Freedom,’ she tells me. ‘Mother was scared to take him to a vet about the cut above his eye in case someone had reported him missing. She called a vet instead and they said that cream was suitable as it is mildly antibacterial.’

Should I have had to listen to her nervous ramblings a month ago about how our mother had stolen her daughter’s scar cream for a bloody dog, I could not have been held responsible for my actions. Now I sigh deeply and ask her, ‘Did it work?’

‘Oh yes!’ She sounds terribly relieved. ‘He healed up in no time, bless him.’ Her voice trails off as she sees my expression and she offers to help me.

‘You have to clean it with those sterile wipes first,’ she twitters on. ‘The vet told us to use those as well.’

I frown crossly but say nothing as she puts on gloves and gently cleanses my scalp. I am reminded of Dr. Braby on the ward and suddenly feel incredibly tired. I absently listen to Izzy telling me off for wearing my wig and suddenly meet her eyes in the mirror.

‘I never thanked you.’

‘What for?’ she asks, looking confused.

‘The way you were when I was in hospital, it really got me through everything. Knowing that I had you … and Mother,’ I add, smiling.

‘We love you, Anna. It’s been hell for us too; worrying you might not get better. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Michael, we would never have got through this. You have changed so much since you met him, you seem … happy.’

‘Despite everything?’ I say pointing to my bereft hair and ugly scar.

‘Despite everything,’ she says, and gives me a hug.

***

Michael stays for as long as he can before heading home to help his parents. They had a party of twelve booked in for the fifteenth of January, so he had to return to contribute with the preparations.

I mope around for a few days, but secretly I am exhausted trying to look good for him all the time. It is quite blissful not to bother with makeup for a little while and I am less self-conscious about not wearing my wig. Izzy is back to school so I spend my days mostly between Mother and long phone conversations with Michael.

‘How are you feeling today?’ he asks, as he always does.

‘I’m fine.’ I tell him, although for the last week or so this has not been entirely true. I’m still finding it difficult to eat despite having had my medicine doses reduced, and although I haven’t seen him since I was discharged, Mr Raj had told me my symptoms should gradually disappear. But I felt dizzy, my headaches have returned, and I am permanently tired. I had almost fallen last week when I had run up the stairs hearing my mobile ringing from my room, and had had to grab on to the bannister at the top, suddenly feeling I may pass out.

This had happened a lot before my diagnosis, but I had been drinking and partying so much, I thought feeling dizzy was normal.

‘Anna, are you still there?’ Michael’s voice breaks through my reverie.

‘Yes, I’m here. Are you still coming to my appointment next week?’

‘Of course I am, angel. January twenty-second, three-thirty.’ I smile at his American accent, which is prominent at more times than others, especially when he recites dates and times. I hear my mother calling for me so I roll my eyes and tell him I have to go.

‘What is the emergency?’ I ask her as I find them in the kitchen, Freedom her constant companion. I pat his head while she tells me dinner is ready, and I recoil as she lifts the pan lid and a wave of nausea hits me. I feel very hot at the back of my head and my mother tells me, ‘That is enough, Anna. You’ve looked wretched and wan for almost a week. I haven’t said anything thus far, but we need to bring your appointment with Mr Raj forward. I’m sorry, darling, but you should be feeling better and something isn’t right.’

I sit at the breakfast bar and place my burning temples against the cool work surface. ‘It’s back, isn’t it?’ I ask without looking up. ‘They said it might come back and it’s back. Like the f*cking Terminator.’

***

Mr Raj agreed to see me earlier and booked a new appointment for the seventeenth. I sit nervously outside his room but this time I am not alone. Izzy and my mother are to the left of me, bickering about Izzy biting her nails. Michael is on my right, holding my hand, and Freedom is waiting in the car with a blanket. Mr Raj smiles as he sees us and pulls up a few extra chairs. I determinedly avoid the Alice in Wonderland chair he gestures me towards and he nods understandingly as I plonk myself on an uncomfortable plastic seat. It reminds me of the chairs from school and I suddenly think of an assistant whose chair we once pulled out from under her.