Pieces of My Heart (28 page)

‘Sally Keene is a whore. She’s screwing my husband,’ we heard from below the window.

‘What are you going to do about her?’ I asked, peeking out. I could only see her silhouette.

‘I’m hoping she’ll get bored or catch pneumonia or something and piss off.’

‘How long does she go on for?’

‘Usually about an hour a night.’

‘She really is a nut-job.’

‘Total.’

‘But he’s worth it?’

‘Hell, yes!’

‘Is he staying tonight?’

She nodded. ‘He should be back soon.’

‘OK, I’ll shoot off. Thanks for letting me ear-bash you about my woes – and I really am thrilled for you about Simon.’

‘Good luck with bringing Ali to the clinic tomorrow. Call me after. I’ll be thinking of you. Remember, it’s for her own good.’

‘Thanks, I will.’

‘Sally Keene has Aids.’

‘That’s a new one.’ Sally chortled.

‘She’s a real charmer, I can’t imagine why he left her. Is she dangerous?’

‘Not so far. I think she’s all bark and no bite.’ Sally stuck her head out of the window. ‘That’s enough, thanks, Maura. Everyone now knows I’m a whore with Aids. Your job is done. You can go home.’

32

After yet another sleepless night, tossing and turning about Ali, Charlie, Nadia, the baby and my general failure as a mother, I dragged myself out of bed feeling utterly wretched. I was dreading taking Ali to the clinic.

By the time I got downstairs she was sitting in the hall with her coat on and a small bag packed. She refused to look at me.

‘Have you had breakfast?’ I asked.

‘What do you think?’

‘Please eat something.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Ali, please, I’m begging you. A small bowl of Special K.’

‘I said I’m not hungry. But you don’t have to worry. I’m sure they’ll force-feed me in the nuthouse you’re sending me to.’

‘Come on, Ali, don’t be like this. I’m doing my best to make you better.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘That’s enough,’ Paul said, as he came down the stairs. ‘This is as difficult for your mother and me as it is for you. The only reason you’re going to this clinic is because you won’t eat. We’d much rather keep you at home.’

‘Come on, we’d better go,’ I said, trying desperately not to cry.

‘Wait!’ Sarah shouted, thundering down the stairs. ‘Here.’ She thrust her iPod into Ali’s hand. ‘I downloaded all your favourite songs. It should keep you sane in there.’

‘Thanks.’ Ali put it into her pocket.

‘I’ve a little something for you too,’ Charlie said, shuffling over in his pyjamas. He handed Ali a photo album. ‘I put in photos from when you were a newborn up to now. Hopefully it’ll help if you’re feeling lonely. I’ll be in to see you as often as they let me.’

Ali’s lip quivered. Charlie hugged her. ‘There now, pet, you’ll be back home to us in no time. We’ll all miss you.’

‘See you, sis. And if anyone famous is in there with you, make friends with them,’ Sarah said, giving Ali an awkward hug.

Paul and I had decided that it was best if I took Ali alone. Less fuss and emotion.

Paul walked over and took his elder daughter in his arms. ‘My beautiful Ali. My pride and joy. I know you can beat this. I know you’ll come back to us in no time. Fight it, Ali, fight it.’

I walked out to the car to wipe the tears streaming down my face. I needed to compose myself for the drive.

Paul had to carry Ali to the car and lift her in. She was inconsolable. He wiped away her tears and kissed her cheek. ‘I love you,’ he croaked, and closed the door.

As we left, I heard Sarah say, ‘If Ali’s your pride and joy, what am I?’

We drove in silence, Ali crying while I tried hard not to. The clinic was housed in a lovely Georgian building covered with ivy and surrounded by well-tended grounds. I parked close to the entrance and took Ali’s bag out of the boot.

As we walked towards Reception, Ali grabbed my sleeve. ‘Please, Mum, please don’t do this. I’ll eat. I’ll eat anything you want me to. I’m sorry, Mum, I’m sorry for putting you through such stress. I know it’s been hard for you and Dad. But please don’t leave me here. Please, Mum,
pleeeeeease
.’

I continued walking. I couldn’t speak. My beautiful daughter, my first-born, my angel, followed behind, begging and pleading. I’m pretty sure I felt my heart break.

We sat in Reception, crying. I was out of words, out of explanations, out of excuses. I prayed I was doing the right thing.

Thankfully, within minutes a very nice nurse came to introduce herself. She said her name was Denise and she was the nurse in charge of the eating-disorders section of the clinic. She didn’t seem remotely put out by our tears. ‘Everyone feels emotional when they first come. It’s totally normal. We’ll take great care of you, Alison, don’t you worry about a thing. We’re here to help you get better and we’ll have you home to your family in no time.’ Then she handed me a tissue. ‘Ava, you’re not to worry either. The first day is always the hardest for everyone.’

I wanted to hug the woman. I felt immediately at ease with her. She seemed so sure that she could fix Ali. It was exactly what I needed to hear. As we were shown around, I noticed that the doors were kept locked and the windows could only open a certain amount. I later discovered that this was supposed to prevent the patients climbing out and running away.

Every bedroom was painted the same bland cream colour, but most people had put up posters or photos and tried to personalize their rooms. There was a kitchen that you were allowed use under supervision, a large dining hall, a TV lounge where people could meet up and chat, and a schoolroom. Outside the gardens were lovely. Although it was January, you could see how glorious they would be in springtime.

The clinic smelt of disinfectant, but there were bouquets of flowers sitting in bright vases and colourful paintings on the walls. The staff clearly made an effort to keep the place as cheerful as possible.

Denise took us into her office and asked Ali to strip down to her bra and pants to be weighed. She was six stone. She had lost more weight, and although I was upset, it reinforced my conviction that I had done the right thing. Ali needed proper help.

Denise told us that because Ali was so underweight she would be put on immediate bed-rest.

‘What does that mean?’ I asked, as Ali got dressed.

‘It means that she cannot do any exercise at all, not even walking. She must lie in bed with her feet up.’ Turning to Ali, she said, ‘If you need to go to the bathroom, you must ask a nurse to help you. For the moment you will be taken everywhere in a wheelchair. You’ll be on five-minute observation during the day – that means we’ll check on you every five minutes to make sure you haven’t left the bed. At night-time you’ll sleep with your door open so we can check regularly to make sure you don’t try to exercise. You will also have supervised showers. A lot of the girls try to exercise in the showers and bathrooms. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen.’

Ali looked horrified.

‘Isn’t that a little extreme?’ I asked.

Denise shook her head. ‘Alison has lost over thirty per cent of her bodyweight so she mustn’t burn any essential calories by walking or moving unnecessarily. She needs to be on full bed-rest for the time being.’

‘What about meals?’ I asked, as Denise showed us to Ali’s room. It was small, with simple cream walls and a single bed, a bedside locker and a small wardrobe.

‘She’ll have her meals brought to her on a tray and all meals and snacks will be supervised to make sure she doesn’t try to hide her food. After each meal she will be on a sixty-minute post-meal bed-rest. This means no visits to the toilet for a full hour after eating.’

I tried not to look as shocked as I felt. It was like a prison. They were all but tying Ali to the bed.

‘I know it may seem rigid, but these rules work,’ Denise assured me. ‘Alison is dangerously underweight. She needs to put on weight as soon as possible. Even the slightest movement burns calories.’ Then, turning back to Ali, she smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Alison, it’s not as bad at it sounds. We’re all here to help you get better. The sooner you put on weight, the sooner you can go home. You’ll make lots of friends here – the other girls are a nice bunch. You can get together and give out about us nurses. Look, there’s Emily.’ Denise called a very frail girl into the room and introduced us. ‘Right, Ava, I’ll leave you to help Alison unpack and then you can say goodbye,’ she said. ‘I think ten minutes should be plenty of time,’ she added pointedly.

While Ali chatted to Emily, I hung her clothes in the wardrobe and placed her personal belongings on her bedside locker.

‘Don’t worry, the first day is always the worst,’ Emily said. ‘We know the new girls by their blotchy faces. It’s really hard – we’ve all been there.’

As Emily talked, she kept hopping from one leg to the other.

‘How long have you been in here?’ Ali asked.

‘This is my third time. The first time I was in for three months, the last time seven weeks and I’ve been back in a week now.’ Emily hopped from side to side again. Five hops on the right leg, five on the left. I tried not to stare.

‘Why do you keep coming back?’ Ali asked, sounding panicky.

I willed myself not to shove Emily out of the door. I didn’t want Ali hearing about repeat visits and relapses. She was not coming back here. This was a once-only stay. She would get better and come home.

Emily sighed. ‘Because apparently I can’t manage to maintain my food intake when I go home. I can’t get control of my obsessive jumping and I started cutting myself again,’ she said, pointing to her bandaged arms.

SELF-HARM! I needed her out of the room and away from Ali. Where were the girls who were putting on weight and getting better? Where were the success stories? Why the bloody hell did this girl have to be the first person Ali met? She must be really messed up. I didn’t want Emily anywhere near my daughter. What if she put ideas into her head? I was struggling with a straightforward eating disorder – there was no way I could manage self-harm too.

‘Were you put on bed-rest on the first day too?’ Ali asked.

Emily nodded. ‘Most of the girls are. It’s a pain, but once you start putting on weight, they’ll allow you to get up.’

‘Well, that’s good news,’ I said. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Emily, but I’m just going to say goodbye to Ali now.’ I showed her to the door. She hopped most of the way.

‘See you later, Alison, good luck,’ she called.

‘’Bye, Emily.’

I turned to Ali. ‘It’s going to be OK, love. That poor girl is very messed up. You are only going to be here for a week or two and then we’ll have you home and everything will be back to normal. All you have to do is focus on eating and getting better.’

‘Don’t leave me, Mum.’ Her body convulsed with sobs.

‘Oh, Ali, please don’t cry. I promise it’s only for a little while. I hate this too. But I just want to make you better, pet.’

Denise came back into the room and told me it was time to go.

I took a deep breath and said goodbye. Ali clung to me like a terrified child.

I faltered.

Denise stepped in, peeled Ali’s arms from me and gently nudged me out of the door. I could hear Ali’s screams as I stumbled towards the exit.

I wandered around the car park, trying in vain to find my car, blinded by tears. I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Paul. ‘I dropped Sarah to school and I just couldn’t face going to work, so I followed you here. I knew it’d be awful for you and I felt bad that you had to do it on your own. How is she?’

‘Terrible. I feel as if I’ve put her in prison,’ I cried, as I leant into him for comfort. He put his arms around me tightly.

‘Is the place horrible? Is it full of nutters?’

‘No, it’s not that bad – and the staff seem really friendly and efficient. It’s just that she was begging me not to leave her and I had to turn my back on her. Oh, God, I hope we’re doing the right thing.’

‘We are. The night I tried to get her to eat and hit her, I realized how bad things had got. Ali’s strong – she’s a fighter. She’ll beat this, you’ll see.’

I admired my husband’s belief and tried to banish my fears. I decided not to tell him about Emily. He didn’t need to hear it and, to be honest, I needed to block it out of my mind. There was no room for thoughts of Ali not getting better or having relapses. I was determined to stay focused.

‘When can we visit?’ he asked.

‘Not for five days. They want her to settle in first. But we can call her every day.’

‘It
is
like prison.’

‘We’ll give it a week and see how she gets on. If it’s too awful, we can always take her out.’

‘Hey, Ava.’

‘What?’

‘Have I told you lately that I love you?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I do,’ he said, hugging me.

‘Thanks, I needed that.’

33

The next morning, when my alarm went off at seven, I threw it across the room – I had slept badly again. Paul offered to take Sarah to school and call Sally to tell her I’d be a bit late for work.

When I got up, I found Nadia lying on the couch watching daytime TV. She waved a remote control at me as I walked past her into the kitchen where Charlie was busy making a sandwich.

Magda was in the kitchen, too, tidying up. ‘How you, Ava? Charlie tell me poor Aleeson is in hospital. I fery sorry. You OK?’

‘Thanks, Magda. I’m very worried but I’m OK.’

‘She be well soon. She haff nice family and she fery intelligent girl.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Mothers worry efery day. It our job.’

‘Have you kids, Magda?’ Charlie asked.

‘She has two boys back home in Poland,’ I filled him in.

‘It must be hard for you, being away from them,’ Charlie commented.

Magda stopped cleaning and leant back against the counter. ‘Yes, it is. I miss boys fery much. But I Skyping efery two or three days.’

‘How old are they?’

‘Oldest boy is twenty-two and youngest boy is twenty. I working to pay for university. Only one more years and then I goes home.’

‘I don’t know how you do it, Magda. Ali’s only been away for one night and I miss her terribly.’