Pieces of My Heart (45 page)

‘Because you’re being paid for sex. There is such a thing as getting a job, you know.’

‘
Pffff!
What job for Polish girl with no English? Only cleaning jobs. You want to cleaning toilet or on big boat drinking the champagne and helping you family? Peoples do things they not always proud of when they needing money.’

I looked at Paul. ‘Do you think she’s going to confess the baby isn’t Charlie’s?’ I whispered.

‘I doubt it. She’s hardly going to confide in Sarah.’

‘You never know, she may have got her at a weak moment.’

Sarah drawled, ‘If the Polish girl is that beautiful why couldn’t she be a model?’

‘You no understanding. You haff eferything you want, you not knowing hard times. Life not simple.’

‘Excuse me! I saw my father being shot and my sister’s currently holed up in a loony bin, I think I know that life isn’t simple. But it doesn’t mean you have to sleep with men for money. Mum always told us that it’s important to earn your own money and have your own bank account. I fully intend to marry a millionaire, but I’m going to be rich and famous myself too. Look at Posh and Becks! When you’re both loaded and successful the relationship works much better.’

‘How you becomes millionaire?’

‘Duh, were you asleep during the play? Acting, of course.’

Paul choked on his coffee. ‘That child is delusional. She needs to focus on her studies and less on this acting lark.’

‘She’s happy, she’s eating, and she has good self-esteem. Let’s leave her be for the moment.’

‘You’re right. I’ll say nothing. Jesus, it’s like walking on egg shells with all these women around. I’m telling you, Ava, I’m better off staying quiet – that way I can’t say the wrong thing.’

Sarah flounced into the kitchen. ‘Hey, you’re back. How was therapy? What did Mary tell you this week? Let me guess – we all need to sit around and hold hands and tell each other we
luuuuurve
each other?’

‘No, actually, she told us how well Ali was doing and how she might be able to come home for an afternoon soon,’ I told her.

‘Oh, wow, that’s cool. Mind you, we’d better hide the chocolate biscuits – they might push her over the edge.’

‘Hey, you’re to be very careful what you say to your sister. She still has a lot of issues with food and they won’t go away in a hurry. So, no smart remarks about calories or eating. We have to be supportive and listen to Ali and help her work through her fear of food,’ I scolded.

‘So, like, when is this all actually going to be over? When can we be normal again?’

‘It’ll take a while. There’s no quick cure for this.’

‘Well, I hope she doesn’t stare at me when I’m eating like she used to, as if I was some kind of greedy pig. And do I still have to watch her in case she hides her food in her napkin?’

‘Hopefully she won’t do that any more, but if you do see her hiding food or throwing it out, I need you to tell me.’

‘Does she eat normally now?’

‘Not exactly. She has specially designed meals that are weighed and measured. It helps take the fear away,’ I explained.

‘Are you serious? She weighs her cornflakes?’

‘Yes. It’s all part of her recovery and, so far, it’s working. So I’ll be buying a set of scales for the house.’

‘Well, f.y.i., if she ends up on bed-rest at home, I’m not bringing her food up to her on a tray and sitting with her for two hours while she eats half a yogurt.’

‘Sarah,’ Paul interrupted, ‘I know it all seems a bit mad – believe me, I can’t get my head around a lot of it either. If I didn’t eat what was on my plate my mother would have walloped me. But this is what Mary told us we have to do to help Ali, and so far she’s gaining weight and even getting a little bit of her personality back. So, if this is what it takes, then this is what we’ll do. And we’ll all pitch in and do our bit. I know this has been hard for you but just hang in there and hopefully it’ll all be over soon.’

‘OK, fine. But I’m not going to any more group-therapy sessions. I’m the only sane one in this family and I’m not having that Mary woman asking me stupid questions and trying to make me cry about stuff that happened a million years ago. Why can’t these therapists just get a life? No wonder they all look so miserable and talk in whispery voices. They spend their whole lives listening to people bitching and moaning about their childhoods and blaming everyone else for their problems. Seriously, it’s so boring. Get over it, you freaks.’

‘Sarah, if I promise not to make you go to any more family sessions, will you please promise to keep your opinions on the clinic, food, eating disorders and therapy to yourself when Ali is around,’ I bargained.

‘What happened to, like, freedom to speak?’

‘It’s actually freedom of speech. Look, just keep your thoughts to yourself in front of Ali for the moment.’

‘Fine, I won’t say a word.’

‘That’ll make two of us.’ Paul smiled at her.

50

I was over the moon. Ali was coming home on Saturday for half a day. Although she’d only put on another half-pound, Denise and Mary felt she was doing very well and deserved a home visit.

Denise had warned me that it might not be easy. She said Ali was nervous about eating with us and that I was not to expect too much from her. ‘She can take up to an hour to eat a small meal. You’ll need to be very patient. And you may need to encourage her if she’s finding it difficult to eat in front of the family.’

‘What should I say?’ I was terrified of getting it wrong.

‘Something like, “That’s right, take another forkful. There you go, and another one …” Or if that doesn’t work, sometimes it’s best to distract her with stories about when she was young or funny things that happened when she was growing up. You’ll need to plan a good hour for dinner. Ali eats slowly and if she feels rushed she might react badly. A good thing to do is to plan something nice afterwards. She can have a fifteen-minute walk, but no more. So maybe you can tell her that after she finishes her food you’re going for a nice walk. It’ll encourage her to eat.’

‘OK, I’ll do exactly that. I’m so pleased she’s coming out. Will she be able to come home for good soon, do you think?’

‘One step at a time, Ava. Your daughter is doing really well, but she has a long way to go yet.’

‘I know, I know,’ I said, frustrated at constantly being reminded that Ali wasn’t cured yet. Couldn’t these nurses and doctors ever be really positive? They were always warning us not to get ahead of ourselves, not to get too excited, not to expect too much. It seemed pretty obvious to me that Ali was getting better.

‘Anyway, I hope you all have a lovely day,’ Denise said.

I felt guilty for thinking badly of her. ‘Thanks for your help and advice – and most of all, for being so nice to Ali.’

I cleaned Ali’s room and bought fresh linen for her bed and flowers for her bedside locker. I bought a new tablecloth and napkins in her favourite colour – pale pink. I stocked up with the food that Denise had told me she was eating in the clinic: fruit juice, skimmed milk, brown bread, low-fat butter, bananas, vegetables, oat cakes, baking potatoes, cottage cheese, chicken breasts, lean meat, fish, yogurt, Müller rice and some high-calorie snack bars. The fridge was jammed. Ali would have plenty of choice.

‘Is good to see you happy,’ Magda said, as she helped me change Ali’s bed.

‘Honestly, Magda, I feel ten years younger. I’m so excited that she’s coming home, even if it’s just for a few hours. It’s all progress.’

‘I tells you she get better. She fery intelligent girl. Too intelligents for stop eating. This over now. You cans relax and be happy.’

‘I hope so, Magda. I’ve been too scared to get my hopes up, but now I really think we’re over the worst. It’s just great.’

Magda patted my arm. ‘You luffly lady. You family fery good to Magda. No more sad face, Aleeson will be fine. No problems.’

‘Thanks, Magda, and you’ve been very good to us. We’re going to miss you when you go home. Although I’ll be really happy for you to get to see your boys.’

‘I missing the boys now – I been away too long. Skype OK, but not same as to see faces.’

‘It must be so hard.’

‘Sometimes fery hard, sometimes not so hard. When I coming here to work, I happy. You fery nice family. That why I so angry with Nadia. She bad girl. I knows this baby not Charlie baby.’

‘Do you have proof?’

‘No, but I asking Polish friends. I still looking for proof.’

‘Well, if you find any, let me know.’

Two days later I went to pick Ali up. Charlie, Paul, Sarah and Nadia were at home tying balloons to the gate and the front door. I wanted her to feel really special.

When I arrived at the clinic she was sitting in her room with her coat on. She beamed up at me and we spontaneously hugged. It was wonderful. She looked really happy and excited, like a little girl at Christmas.

‘Come on, let’s get you out of here,’ I said, leading the way.

When we got outside, she breathed in deeply. ‘This is the first time I’ve been out in weeks. It feels fantastic.’

I smiled at her. ‘I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so well. I reckon you’ll be out of here in no time. Now let’s go home – the others are all waiting.’

Ali chatted non-stop. It was like having my old daughter back. She’d found her voice and her enthusiasm. I wanted to weep with relief.

When we got home, the gate and front door were tied with multicoloured balloons. It looked really festive. Ali was thrilled. ‘Is this all for me?’ she asked, as we pulled up.

‘Yes, pet, we wanted to make a fuss. It’s a great day for us.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ she said, and hugged me again. Then she jumped out of the car and ran over to the others and threw her arms around them one by one. Paul’s face lit up – his daughter was back.

We went inside and Ali went up to her room to look around, then came down and said she loved her new sheets – she couldn’t wait to come home and sleep in her own bed. We sat around drinking tea – with skimmed milk, no biscuits – and chatted. Paul had lit a big cosy fire in the lounge and it was like old times.

I had decided to have tea at four. I wanted it to be early so that Ali would have plenty of time to eat and go for a short walk before I had to take her back. I asked her to come into the kitchen with me and tell me what she’d like to eat.

When she opened the fridge she froze. ‘Mum, there’s so much here.’

‘Well, I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I bought all the different food you’ve been having at the clinic. Just tell me what you’d like and I’ll make it for you.’

‘Uhm, I don’t know. I, uhm …’

She was struggling. Shit, I shouldn’t have bought so much. Obviously she wasn’t used to choice and the large quantities of food staring out at her were overwhelming. ‘Why don’t I do chicken breasts and steamed vegetables, with yogurt for dessert? How does that sound?’

‘That sounds fine,’ she said, closing the fridge and looking relieved.

‘You go back in to the others and I’ll get this ready.’

As she walked out I was staring at her tiny frame. Six pounds wasn’t much on a bag of bones. Perhaps the next six would make her look healthier. I busied myself with dinner, making sure not to put too much food on Ali’s plate. Denise had said to make the amount of food look small so it didn’t frighten her.

Thirty minutes later, I called the family in for tea. They had been warned not to comment that we were eating at four in the afternoon. Everyone had been told to say nothing about food and to keep the conversation light.

Sarah stared at her plate of steamed chicken and vegetables, but for once held her tongue. ‘Can you pass the gravy, please?’ she asked.

‘There is no gravy,’ I said. I’d decided we should all eat the same thing and I knew that gravy would not be on Ali’s list.

‘OK, then, can I have some butter or something to put on these dry vegetables?’ I glared at her.

‘Just stay quiet and eat up,’ Paul said, chewing a cauliflower floret.

‘Lovely dinner,’ said Charlie. ‘Well done, Ava. Very nice. I like plain food myself. Those heavy sauces they put on everything nowadays are no good for an old stomach like mine.’

‘You saying you no likes my cooking?’ Nadia asked. ‘I cooking sauces. This food haff no flavour,’ she said, waving a stem of broccoli in the air to prove her point.

My blood began to boil: what the hell was wrong with everyone? I had specifically warned them not to discuss food.

‘Mum,’ Sarah hissed, ‘I can’t eat this. I need gravy. It’s too dry.’

I got up from the table, made some instant gravy and slapped it down on the table. ‘Now, can you all please be quiet and eat up?’

Sarah, Nadia and Paul poured large quantities of gravy over their dinner. Charlie and I stayed without in solidarity with Ali. Ali was studiously cutting her food into tiny pieces. I looked around the table – everyone was watching her. She picked up a piece of chicken, and as she was about to put it into her mouth, she looked up. We all pulled our eyes away, but it was too late: she had seen us. She put the food into her mouth, began to chew … and gagged.

‘It’s OK, pet, take your time. Don’t rush,’ I said, desperately trying to keep calm.

‘Take as long as you need,’ Paul added.

‘It’s better to eat slowly,’ Charlie said. ‘We all eat too quickly nowadays and that’s why so many people have problems with their digestive systems.’

‘During the war, many Polish peoples haff no food. It good to take time to enjoy,’ Nadia piped up.

‘I’m starving, what’s for dessert?’ Sarah asked, but when Paul frowned at her she quickly shut up.

‘That’s right, Ali, one more forkful, good girl,’ I encouraged her, but she continued to cough and gag. I froze. I didn’t know what to do.

Ali spat the food into her napkin. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking upset.

‘Don’t worry – try another piece.’ I forced myself to remain calm.

I watched her attempt to eat a small piece of broccoli but the same thing happened. She just couldn’t swallow it. I could see Paul’s fists clenching around his knife and fork.

‘I’m so sorry, I just can’t,’ she said. She ran out of the kitchen and up to her bedroom.