Pieces of My Heart (25 page)

When she looked up, a very angry woman was wielding a wooden Santa Claus. She was smaller than Sally with shoulder-length black hair and a very straight fringe that gave her a French look. She was very pale, with a lot of dark eye-liner around her brown eyes and blood-red lipstick. The overall effect should have been sexy but she had overdone it and looked a bit like a vampire.

‘Get off my husband, you dirty slapper.’

‘Back off, Maura, we’re not married any more,’ Simon said, and made a grab for the Santa, but Maura was too quick for him. She belted him over the knuckles with it. ‘Ouch!’

Then she lunged again at Sally, who panicked and gave the Christmas tree a big shove. It swayed briefly and fell down on top of the mad wife. All you could see were her shoes sticking out from under it, like the Wicked Witch of the East’s – Sally kept expecting the Munchkins to appear singing ‘Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead’.

She couldn’t believe it. Why was she so unlucky? She had finally met a nice guy and now she’d gone and killed his wife in self-defence. How many years would the judge give her – ten? By the time she got out of prison she’d be fifty-three and would have no chance of meeting a man.

A loud screeching woke her from her reverie. ‘Get this tree off me,’ roared Maura.

‘Run before she gets freed,’ whispered Simon. He grabbed Sally’s hand and sprinted out of the door.

They stopped running at the corner of the road to catch their breath. ‘Do you think I did any permanent damage?’ Sally puffed.

‘God, I hope so,’ he said, and they started laughing.

‘Was she like that when you married her?’

‘Put it this way, my stag turned into a kind of intervention with my mates telling me to dump her. They all said I was making a huge mistake.’

‘And you ignored them.’

‘I thought she was feisty and spontaneous. I liked that.’

‘Feisty is different from certifiable.’

‘I know that now. I was brought up by very strict Quaker parents. Emotional outbursts were not encouraged. I found Maura fascinating.’

‘That’s one word for her. I’d say life was never dull.’

‘No, it was exhausting, and then she had the affair and I packed my bags and ran.’

‘How long were you married?’

‘Six years.’

‘Kids?’

‘Thankfully, no. We tried but it never happened. I’m glad now. Imagine having a mother like that.’

‘They’d never have been normal with her DNA.’

‘So …’

‘So …’

‘Can I invite you back to my place for coffee?’ Simon asked.

‘How about my apartment for sex?’

‘Direct. I like it.’

‘I’m forty-three. I don’t have time to be coy.’

He pulled her close and kissed her. ‘Happy Newish Year.’

She smiled. Maybe it actually would be.

‘Oh, my God, Sally, that’s fantastic.’ I was absolutely thrilled for her. She sounded really excited and happy. ‘So, what happened when you got back to your place?’

‘We ripped each other’s clothes off and had sex.’

‘Was it fantastic? Go on, make me jealous.’

‘Honestly? No. It was nice, it was comfortable, it was pleasant but it wasn’t fantastic. We had so much chemistry I thought it was going to be amazing, but it really wasn’t.’

‘Well, maybe it was drink or nerves or something. Don’t worry, it might be better the next time.’

‘I’m not worried because I haven’t told you the second part of the story yet …’

That morning, when Sally was making coffee, Simon came in. He was even cuter in daylight – except for his hair, which was weird. Maybe it was just bed-head, she thought. He shuffled about uncomfortably. ‘Morning.’

‘Hey there, would you like some coffee?’

‘Great, thanks.’

‘So, how’d you sleep?’ Sally asked, trying to get the conversation going.

‘Not very well.’

‘Oh.’

‘Look, Sally, about last night –’

Here we go, she thought. He’s going to tell me he had a nice time but he’s not ready for anything, he’s just come out of a marriage, he needs space, I’m a nice girl but this is not going anywhere, blah, blah, blah.

‘I don’t feel that I, uhm, well, that I was, uhm, up to scratch as it were.’

‘What?’

‘It’s just that, without blowing my own trumpet, I’m usually better than that and I just feel I’d like another chance to … I got stage fright or something and I don’t want you to think that last night is a true reflection of –’

She leant in and kissed him. ‘Before you talk me to death, I think we should go back to bed.’

Thankfully, this time it wasn’t gentle or nice. It was passionate and energetic, with banging headboards and even a little spanking. It was fantastic. As they lay wrapped around each other, panting from their exertions, they heard shouting outside.

‘WHORE! A WHORE LIVES IN THIS APARTMENT BLOCK. SALLY KEENE IS A PROSTITUTE.’

Simon groaned. ‘I’m so sorry – it’s Maura.’

‘How the hell does she know where I live?’

‘She must have asked someone at the party.’

‘We have to get rid of her. I don’t want my neighbours hearing this.’

‘I’ll go and talk to her,’ he said, getting up.

‘No, I’ll deal with this,’ she said, pulling on her dressing-gown. She looked out the window. Simon’s ex was directly below, shouting her head off. Sally filled a bucket with cold water, opened the window and poured it on her head. ‘Now fuck off home, you psycho, or I’ll call the police.’

She slammed the window and turned around to find Simon gaping at her.

‘What? You hardly thought I was going to invite her in for breakfast? She needed to cool down.’

He came over and kissed her. ‘Maura may have met her match.’

28

Paul insisted on coming to the meeting with Mary Boland. He was still feeling guilty about New Year’s Eve and was trying to make it up to me.

We arrived at the surgery with Ali, dressed in her usual baggy clothes, shivering. I was worried she’d caught some bug on the flight home.

Mary Boland came out to greet us. She was an attractive woman; small, short dark hair, smartly dressed, in her late fifties. She had a confident, assured way about her and didn’t seem shocked by Ali’s appearance.

We introduced ourselves and sat down.

‘Welcome, all of you. Now, from what Dr Garner has told me, Alison, you’ve not been eating lately and your periods have stopped. Is that right?’

‘No, I am eating now and I’ve put on weight, so I really don’t need to be here at all.’

‘All right. Well, let me be the judge of that. You look very pale. Are you feeling tired and a bit down in the dumps?’

‘No, honestly, I’m fine. My parents are just overreacting. I feel great.’ Despite her protestations, Ali began to cry. I handed her a tissue and rubbed her back.

‘I can see you’re very unhappy. A lovely young girl like you should be out playing sports and going to parties. I’m going to do everything I can to help you. So, let’s start by weighing you to see if you put on any weight over the holidays.’

Ali stood up and walked over to the scales.

‘Take off your big jumper and empty your pockets, please,’ Mary said.

‘There’s nothing in my pockets.’

‘Can you show me?’

Ali blushed. ‘There’s nothing to show.’

‘Alison, I need you to empty your pockets.’ Mary stood with her hands out.

Ali slowly took out two large stones and placed them in Mary’s palms.

‘Oh, Jesus!’ I gasped.

‘What’s going on?’ Paul was confused.

‘Lots of patients try to hide their weight loss by filling their pockets with stones or wearing heavy jewellery or drinking litres of water before a weigh-in. I’ve seen all the tricks. All right, Alison, let’s see what you really weigh.’

Ali reluctantly stood up on the scales.

‘Six stone three.’

I stuffed my hand into my mouth to stop myself screaming.

Paul gasped. ‘I thought she was seven stone when we went on holidays?’

‘She was,’ I croaked.

‘But she ate on holidays – we watched her all the time. Jesus, we spent hours trying to encourage her to eat more. How could she lose all this weight?’ Paul began to pace the room. Then, turning to Ali, he said, ‘I don’t understand – what the hell are you doing? What’s going on here?’

‘It’s no big deal. It’s just a few pounds.’ Ali pulled her arms around herself protectively.

‘Alison probably wasn’t seven stone when you last weighed her,’ Mary explained. ‘Alison, did you have stones in your pockets when you were last weighed?’

Ali nodded.

‘Oh, Ali, why did you lie to me?’ I fought back tears. ‘I was trying to help you.’

Mary walked Ali back to her chair and sat down beside her, holding her hand. ‘Alison, do you understand that you are now dangerously underweight?’ she said gently. ‘Our bodies need food to survive. If we don’t eat, we die. It’s as simple as that. You’re a beautiful young girl who has her whole life ahead of her. But I can see you’re struggling with this. So we’re going to get you the help you need to get better.’

Ali began to cry.

Mary patted her back. ‘It’s all right – you’re here now and we’re going to help. I know how hard this is for you. But we’ve caught the anorexia early, which is very good news, and you have a supportive family, which is also very important to your recovery. Don’t you worry, we’ll have you smiling and laughing again soon.’

Ali was shaking. I went over to her. She didn’t shrug me away. She rested her head on my shoulder and sobbed.

‘It’s OK, pet, we’re all here to help,’ I said, stroking her hair.

Paul was wearing a hole in the carpet.

‘Why don’t you sit down, Paul? I’d like to talk to you and Ava,’ Mary said.

He collapsed into a chair and I managed to calm Ali down. Mary then asked her if she would wait outside. ‘I want to talk to your parents for a minute and then we can have a group discussion on how to move forward with your treatment.’

The minute the door closed I couldn’t hold back the tears. ‘What do we do now? Is she going to die? I thought she was eating more – I watched her like a hawk. I don’t understand how she could have lost so much weight.’ My mouth had gone completely dry. I was in shock.

‘People suffering from anorexia become very cunning. You can’t watch Alison twenty-four hours a day. She was probably exercising all night while you were asleep and hiding food up her sleeves or in her napkin. An anorexic will always find ways to lose weight. The important thing here is that we act immediately.’

‘Just tell us what we need to do. Please just help us make her better. Where is the best place for treatment?’

‘Unfortunately the healthcare system here provides almost no assistance or funding for people with eating disorders. There are currently three public hospital beds and an estimated two hundred thousand sufferers.’

‘But that’s a joke. How can there only be three beds? It’s a bloody disgrace,’ Paul ranted. ‘We’re like a third-world nation when it comes to healthcare. How the hell is anyone supposed to get better? You look at the system in France, it’s –’

‘Will Ali be able to get one of the beds?’ I cut across him. I didn’t want to discuss the shagging state of the healthcare system. I just wanted to make my daughter better.

‘Unfortunately they’re only for the over-eighteens.’

‘But how will she get better?’ I was panicking. How could there be no help when hundreds of thousands of people were sick?

‘The only way for you to make sure that Alison is treated straight away is to get her into the Gretta Lyndon Clinic, where I also work. It has an excellent eating-disorders unit with amazing results. I would recommend that Alison goes in as a full-time patient for a few weeks. I have to warn you it will be expensive.’

‘I don’t care how much it costs. Please just get her a place.’ I would have sold my soul to the devil to make Ali better.

‘Now, just hold on a minute here,’ Paul interrupted. ‘I’m not locking my daughter up in some nuthouse.’

‘I can assure you the clinic is the furthest thing from a nuthouse. It’s a warm, modern, open facility that cares deeply about its patients. I really think Alison would benefit from going there. Once she starts eating and gains weight, she’ll be put on an outpatient programme. But for now I would urge you to admit her on a full-time basis for a few weeks to kick-start her recovery.’

‘Whatever you say. Will she be OK? Will they cure her?’ I was like a needy child. I wanted Mary to tell me that Ali was going to be fine, that I had nothing to worry about, that she and her team would fix her and that I’d have my daughter back – the old Ali, the wonderful Ali, not this stranger who lied and hid things and was angry all the time.

‘They have a very high success rate, especially with teenage anorexia, and Alison should be fine. But the sooner she gets proper care the better her chances of a full recovery become.’

‘So you don’t think she’s going to die.’ I was desperate for reassurance.

‘With the correct help, I’m confident she’ll make a full recovery.’

‘Ava,’ Paul said, turning me by the shoulders to face him, ‘we are not sending our seventeen-year-old to be locked up in this place. I don’t care how good it is. She can come and have sessions with Mary and we’ll watch her more closely at home.’

‘We have been watching her,’ I snapped, ‘and she’s got much worse. She’s starving herself to death. We need help.’

‘I’m not locking her up. There must be another way.’ Paul dug his heels in.

I didn’t want to argue in front of Mary, but I lost my temper. ‘Jesus, Paul, I’m not happy about this either, but Ali could die. You need to get that into your thick head. It’s not a diet or some silly teenage phase. Our daughter has a serious problem.’

Mary stepped in. ‘It could take up to a week before I can get Alison admitted. In the meantime, why don’t you see if you can persuade her to eat? If she does gain weight before she’s due to go to the clinic, we can reassess the situation.’

‘Excellent. We’ll get her back on track this week,’ Paul said, pleased.

I wanted to punch him. How could he be so naïve? Ali was beyond our help. She needed professional and experienced people who knew how to cure her.

Mary called Ali back in and gently explained to her that if she didn’t start putting on weight immediately she would have to go to a clinic for a few weeks to get better. ‘It’s a very nice place, so don’t worry if you do have to be admitted. But if you manage to put on weight by yourself, then we can look at an outpatient programme for you.’