Family Pictures (36 page)

“What?” Cole frowns at me. “What do you mean, you’re controlling again? You’re not controlling, you’re just giving me your opinion, and I’m grateful for it. I’ve been thinking the same thing myself. My parents are, as you have discovered, wonderful. I want to spend time with them. Please don’t worry. You haven’t said anything wrong. Come on.” He jumps off the rock. “Let’s keep going.”

*   *   *

“My parents were right,” Cole says as we get out of the car, back home. I have said good night, and thank you, and I am about to walk up the path to my cottage, when I turn.

“They said you were nothing like the media portrayal of you. They said you were lovely, and warm, and real. And a great mother.” He smiles. “All of which you are.”

I’m glad we are now in pitch darkness and he can’t see the flush of pleasure that spreads across my face.

“Night night,” I call, knowing my voice doesn’t hide the smile that is currently stretching ear to ear.

“Sleep tight,” he calls.

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” we both say at the same time, and the last thing I hear is his laugh as I let myself in my house.

54

Sylvie

Sylvie lets herself in the door, leaning against it for a few seconds, exhausted, trying to regain some equilibrium.

She calls out for Eve, knowing she is home given the presence of her Jeep in the driveway. The house echoes, which means nothing other than Eve is in her room, but as always, Sylvie rushes upstairs, knocking on the door, waiting for the anxiety in her chest to lighten as soon as Eve tells her she is there, breathing, alive.

This afternoon, she went to see Dr. Lawson. He was, after all, in charge of Eve, and although she is no longer in intensive outpatient therapy, she continues to check in from time to time.

Dr. Lawson was concerned to hear about the weights, more concerned when he checked the records to discover that Eve hasn’t been checking in, hasn’t turned up to her last two therapy appointments, has been, in fact, absent without leave.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Sylvie struggled to keep her voice calm. “How could you let this happen without telling me?”

He was contrite. “I don’t know how this happened. I need to talk to my staff and try to find out, but right now, my primary concern is seeing Eve. You need to get her in here today. I can clear my afternoon, but this kind of relapse requires immediate intervention. The sooner she gets here, the greater our chances.”

Sylvie’s heart jumps into her throat. “What do you mean, the greater her chances?”

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Sylvie already knows this disease kills. But she’d hidden from facing the possibility of life-and-death for Eve. She can’t hide anymore.

Sylvie knocks again, louder. No reply. She pushes open the door. Eve is not in her room. Neither is her laptop. Or her suitcase.

On the bed is a piece of paper.

Mom,

I love you, but I can’t stand this. I need to be on my own for a while so I’ve gone away. Don’t worry, and don’t try to find me. I’ll be in touch soon.

Evie xx

Sylvie sinks down onto the bed as a howl of pain escapes her lips.

55

Buck

At 11:29, I hear my mom come in, and I finally know what to do. I’ve spent the last two hours trying to figure out the right thing to do, even though I know Grace is going to kill me. I figured if Mom came home before 11:35, I’d tell her. If she came home after that, I’d still have to figure it out.

Most of the time I feel way older than sixteen, except when I have to make an adult decision. My mom may be the last person I should be turning to, but I also know that she has a huge heart; she would help; she would know what to do.

She’s already collapsed on the sofa with her feet up, a smile on her face as I walk down the stairs, and she turns to me with a dreamy expression. “You can’t even begin to imagine how beautif— What is it?” She frowns, knowing in the way that mothers always know that something’s wrong. “What’s the matter? Who is it?” Her voice catches as she inhales sharply. “Is it Grace? It’s Grace, isn’t it.”

“No.” Although, I think, yes. It is. Not in the way she thinks, but this involves Grace too. “It’s a friend of Grace’s, but it’s more complicated.”

“Is she … pregnant?” Mom gives a knowing look.

“No. Mom, I was on Facebook with Grace this evening, and she had a friend turn up who’s staying with her, and the friend is ill. Like, really ill. Grace doesn’t know what to do.”

“Can’t they go to a doctor? Or hospital? What’s the matter with her?”

“Grace says she’s anorexic. She’s been in and out of treatment, but Grace says she hasn’t eaten anything since she got there, and she’s just had some kind of fit. Grace is freaking out.”

“What do you mean, some kind of fit?” my mom asks slowly.

“I don’t know. Grace said she had some kind of seizure the other day, and Grace was freaking out, but afterwards she said it was fine, and not to worry. But she’s just had another one, and now she’s just practically comatose in bed and Grace says her breathing is weird and she can’t wake her up.”

“She has to call an ambulance. Now!” my mom says. “You have to get hold of Grace now. Or I’ll do it. I’ll call them.”

Now it’s my turn to freak out. “Mom, you can’t. It’s … this girl has run away. Her … mom … doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t want anyone to know where she is, and she made Grace swear not to call her mom or the authorities. She said she’d be fine, but it doesn’t sound like it.”

My mom starts shaking her head very quickly. “Oh no,” she says. “No, no, no. I don’t care what the situation is, her parents have to know.
Jesus
.” She says this under her breath. “Grace needs to call her mother immediately. If this girl is sick enough for Grace to be freaking out, this girl is sick enough that her parents need to get involved right now. You need to get hold of Grace now, Buck, and tell her how urgent this is. This sounds about as serious as it can be, and anorexia kills. She has to get an ambulance and call the parents.”

I don’t know how to tell her this. I just don’t know how to find the words. “She can’t.”

“I’ll do it, then.” My mom is already heading to the computer to look up Grace’s address. “I’ll call an ambulance now. Do we know the girl’s name? Do we know anything about the family? How to get hold of them?”

I take a deep breath. There’s no way out.

“It’s Eve,” I say quietly. “Eve Haydn. Sylvie Haydn’s daughter.” I watch my mom’s eyes open wide as she freezes in her tracks.

“What? I don’t understand. What do you mean, it’s Sylvie Haydn’s daughter. She’s staying with Grace? They’re friends? How—? When—?”

I shrug, because the truth is, I didn’t even know they were friends before tonight, and it’s relevant only because someone has to help, and they have to help quickly.

When Mom said she’d call the girl’s mother, I knew, instantly, that was the right thing to do, but the girl’s mother isn’t just anyone.

It’s the one woman Mom couldn’t bear to help.

My mom doesn’t say anything for a while. She sits forward, her elbows on her knees, rubbing her eyes, before letting out a big groan.

“I have to do this, don’t I.” She looks up at me and I can’t say anything. I just nod before sitting next to her and taking her hand. “Jesus,” she whispers. “I can’t believe I have to do this, but if it were the other way round … If it were Grace…” She shudders at the thought. “This girl is ill, and we have to help her. It’s what mothers do,” she murmurs, not to me particularly, but I think to herself, to help her understand why she needs to do this. “We look after each other’s daughters. It doesn’t matter who they belong to, it’s the responsibility we take on when we become mothers. Buck?” She looks up at me. “Do you think you can get her mom’s home number for me?”

I nod. Eve’s mother has a job. I can google her, find out where she works, and take it from there.

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll call an ambulance while you get the number. Do it quickly. We haven’t got any time to lose.”

56

Maggie

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is that Sylvie?”

There is a gut-wrenching silence during which I imagine I can hear Sylvie’s heart plummeting in disappointment, knowing she was praying it would be her daughter. “Yes.”

“Sylvie, this is Maggie Hathaway. I’m phoning about your daughter.”

“What?” she barks down the phone. “Eve? What about her? What do you know?”

“She’s with Grace. In New York. I didn’t know myself until just now. She swore Grace not to tell anyone she was there, but Grace is worried sick about her. It sounds like she’s had a seizure, and Grace is having trouble rousing her. Eve had made her swear not to call for help, but I’ve just called an ambulance and it’s on its way.”

“Oh, God.” Sylvie lets out a sob. “Where is she? What’s the address?”

I give her the address, my heart tearing at Sylvie’s voice. I feel like I know everything about this woman, a woman I have made it my business to scorn, a woman who destroyed my life and ended up with everything. She is sobbing as I finish.

“Sylvie.” I wait for her to finish, and I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to say, can’t believe the words that come out of my mouth. “I can get there quicker than you. I’m leaving now. I’ll find out which hospital she’ll be taken to and I’ll let you know. I’ll meet you there.”

“What if it’s too late?” Sylvie’s voice rises to a panicked shriek. “What if it’s too late?”

“The ambulance will be there any minute, and I’ll be there in two to three hours,” I say. “I’ll stay with her until you get there.”

Sylvie’s sobbing subsides as she takes a deep, hiccuping breath. “You’d do that? You’d drive in the middle of the night to see if she’s okay?”

“Wouldn’t you do the same for my daughter? For anyone’s daughter who was in trouble?”

“Yes,” Sylvie says. “I wouldn’t think twice.”

57

Grace

Just wake up, I keep thinking. Please, please wake up. I know she will, at some point, because she did the other day, and afterwards she said it was fine, she’d be fine, she just sometimes goes into this weird state, but it’s nothing to worry about and whatever I do, I must not let anyone know.

I was freaked out then, but I thought maybe it was just a one-off. She seemed okay afterwards, just really tired. But it’s weird that this is the same girl who came with me to our house two years ago, the same girl who Chris thought was totally hot, who was skinny but normal.

When she showed up here a week ago, I actually gasped. I couldn’t help it. She looks like she’s about to die, and she’s like a shadow of who she was. Each time she’s woken up in the morning, I’ve breathed a sigh of relief that she’s actually still alive.

I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but every time I go there, she just clams up, so I’ve stuck with the usual bullshit about school, people in my dorm, boys.

She hasn’t wanted to go anywhere. I’m not surprised. I can’t see how she’d have the energy to do anything, and it seems she
doesn’t
have much energy to do much of anything other than sleep.

We’ve had this amazing online friendship for ages now. It didn’t happen immediately—after that weekend when we all found out about Dad, I didn’t want anything to do with her, but then after the court case she Facebooked me, and we started chatting a ton. She was the only one who could truly understand what had gone down with Dad. We had that in common. We would always have that in common.

I’ve been up the last two nights reading about anorexia, and I know that seizures happen in late-stage anorexia. The other day, when it happened, she said it definitely wasn’t a seizure, and she would know, given that she was the one having it. Or not.

It was easier to believe her, even though I’m pretty sure she’s having seizures. Today it was so much worse. I rolled her over onto her side so she wouldn’t swallow her tongue, and the thing is, I could feel her body underneath all the sweats she wears, and there’s nothing.

Nothing.

When she was twitching, her eyes were rolled back and her sweats rode up with the jerking of her body, and she’s a skeleton. It’s disgusting. It’s devastating. I stared at her bones, and then I just burst into tears.

I don’t know what to do. This isn’t something I feel able to cope with. She’s sleeping now, but it’s not like normal sleeping. Her breathing seems … hard, like she has to fight for every other breath. I’ve just been sitting in the corner of my room, on the floor, crying, because I don’t know what to do. I think she may be dying.

I have to call an ambulance even though she’ll hate me. Unless she wakes up soon. Maybe she’ll wake up and it will be okay. I should call an ambulance. Even if she never talks to me again, what else can I do?

Buck sent a message on Facebook and I told him. I know I shouldn’t have, but I had to tell someone. I need someone’s help, without getting the authorities involved.

He looked totally freaked out too, and he said he’d get hold of Chris. Chris will know what to do. I just hope he gets here soon, because I’m seriously worried about what will happen. I keep picking up the phone and starting to dial 911, but then I stop, because she’ll kill me.

I hear noises coming down the corridor. Voices. Loud. Radios. A banging on my door makes me jump, and I run over to find three EMTs there.

“What the—?”

“We’re here for Eve Haydn,” one says. “This is very serious. Please move out of the way.”

I step aside, relief mingling with fear as more tears come.

They surround her; equipment appears; IVs are plugged in. A crowd gathers in the hallway outside, everyone peering in as Eve is lifted onto a stretcher. Even the EMTs gasp at how tiny she is, how light, talking to one another in hushed, urgent voices.

She does not move. Does not wake. I am filled with remorse, and shame, that I did not call them earlier. Immediately. That I did not call the other day. That I let Eve, who was so clearly, so obviously desperately ill, talk me into abiding by her rules.