‘I tell you what I don’t get’ – he pointed at her – ‘is just how willing you are to roll over and give in to this very destructive behaviour, or how you could just drop Charlotte, miss her concert. You know how hard she has worked, all those hours practising, rehearsing, with you pushing her. She was so proud, excited, and then you flaked on the day and didn’t turn up. It’s mind-boggling!’ He placed his hands at his temples for added effect.
‘Don’t be so dramatic. I haven’t dropped Charlotte. It was one night. She’ll understand that I couldn’t leave Lexi, I just couldn’t. It’s been the worst day imaginable; your mum didn’t exactly hold back.’
‘Yes, I think you are right, this whole nightmare is my mother’s fault because she has very kindly dipped into her pocket so that Lexi can spend hours chatting to a stranger in Harpenden and had the audacity to buy her grandchild a bar of bloody chocolate. The woman should be whipped!’
‘Don’t be clever, Lockie. You are oversimplifying things to win the argument and make me sound at fault and I am not. I couldn’t just up sticks and go and clap politely in the interval. Lexi needed me!’
‘Well, here’s a news flash: Charlotte needed you too.’
‘She will understand.’ Of this she was certain.
‘Yes I’m sure, she was after all so very keen to rush home and tell you all about her evening. Oh, wait a minute, no she wasn’t!’ He gave a fake laugh.
‘You can be such a shit, Lockie.’ She grabbed her laptop and her glasses.
‘Don’t worry about being disturbed; I shall sleep on the top floor,’ he called after her, like a boxer with plenty of fight left in him, wanting to get in one final jab.
‘Do what you like.’ Freya swept from the room, keen to make it to the stairs before her tears started to fall.
She slept fitfully, turning a couple of times, noting the absence of her husband in their bed and remembering all over again why he wasn’t there. She could count on one hand the times he had decamped to the spare room during their marriage, and on nearly every other occasion it was when one of them was ill and the other one was avoiding the unpleasantness that went with a sickness bug or the flu. This felt different, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Waking before her alarm, Freya grabbed her notepad and pen and wrote Charlotte a note. Having texted her last night, she wanted her to find this lasting message, a reminder. Six words that she hoped would convey all she needed them to: I’m sorry, Charlotte. I love you. She placed it on her daughter’s cool pillow before showering and pulling on her jeans and a shirt. She then knocked on Lexi’s door.
‘Morning, sweetheart.’ She opened the curtains to let the day in and gently nudged her daughter’s sleeping form. ‘You have to get up and get showered, darling, we’ve got your doctor’s appointment first thing.’
Lexi turned over and stretched her arms over her head. Her breath, as ever, was putrid. Freya tried not to breathe in through her nose, tried not to react to the noxious, sweet, yet foul smell that dogged her child. She knew this was the result of ketosis and an almost zero-carb diet that often caused chemicals to be released in the breath as the body burned fat.
‘Five more minutes.’ Lexi turned her face towards her pillow and closed her eyes.
Making her way to the kitchen, she trod the last stair with trepidation, feeling an unfamiliar nervousness in her own home. Lockie was already at the kitchen table. It felt odd to her that she didn’t know what to say to the man with whom she shared everything, carrying an awkwardness that was as unfamiliar as it was uncomfortable.
‘Can I get you a coffee?’ She figured this was a safe place to start.
He lifted a mug. ‘Way ahead of you on that one. And don’t worry, I didn’t touch your machine.’ He gave a small smile.
Freya braced her arms on the countertop, all her resolve disappeared, and she cried, huge gulping sobs.
‘I never wanted to upset Diana. She’s my family! I love her and I know I let Charlotte down! I honestly thought that because you were there it made sense for me to sit with Lexi, I couldn’t leave her and I didn’t know what else to do!’ Her nose and mouth both clogged with tears.
She heard the scrape of Lockie’s chair on the wooden floor and within seconds his arms were around her. He held her tightly and kissed her scalp.
‘I shouldn’t have been so angry and taken it out on you the way I did. I’m sorry too. It was the worst thing hearing my mum upset like that and not knowing how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix anything.’ He sighed.
She twisted inside his grip until her face was flat against his denim shirtfront. ‘I hated not sleeping with you,’ she whispered.
‘Me too.’ He sighed. ‘There was no one warming their cold feet on my legs or stealing the duvet or shouting out random facts and ideas in the dead of night.’
Freya smiled, knowing she did all three. ‘I love you, Lockie.’
‘And I love you, and that is why we will get through this and why we can get through anything.’ He tilted her chin with his finger until she was facing him and kissed her gently on the mouth.
‘What’s your plan for today?’ He released her and made his way back to his coffee and the morning’s headlines.
‘Lexi has a doctor’s appointment first thing, then I’m going to work on my article and that’s that.’
‘I’m in the studio, editing all day, but obviously here if you need me.’ He was being overly attentive, trying, as was she, to make amends.
She sniffed away the last of her tears and nodded at the man she loved.
She tried not to let her own nerves jump across to her daughter as they parked outside the doctor’s surgery, humming, rummaging in her bag, anything other than pay heed to the rising tide of anxiety that sat somewhere beneath her throat. Dr Morris smiled her welcome.
‘Hey, Lexi, how are you? Come and sit down.’
Freya took a seat next to her daughter as the doctor ran her eyes over the notes on the screen. ‘So it’s been nine weeks since I saw you. How have you been getting on?’
‘Bit better, I think.’ Lexi spoke to her lap.
‘Would you agree with that, Mum?’ the doctor asked brightly.
She swallowed, wary of saying the wrong thing. ‘Lexi certainly started out eating more, which I know was the goal. She’s done amazingly well. We have had a few wobbles.’
‘In what way?’ The doctor sat forward.
‘I . . . I don’t know.’
Freya was ashamed of her lack of specifics. It was hard to explain that they walked on eggshells one minute and seemed to be back to normal the next, difficult to put into words just how it felt to watch her child deliberate over two brands of soup, trying to identify which would be less harmful and choosing neither, or the sheer joy she felt when Lexi managed to consume a measly protein shake.
‘And you are still seeing Hilary Wainwright?’ she addressed Lexi.
‘Yes.’
‘And that helps?’
‘Yes.’ Of this she sounded certain.
‘Okay.’ The doctor drew a deep breath. ‘Well, let’s get you weighed, Lexi, and we can go from there.’
Lexi stood and slowly, reluctantly removed her trainers, her hoodie, and placed her phone with her folded clothing on the seat of the chair.
‘You did brilliantly before, I just need you to do the same again.’
Dr Morris stood by the scales and waited for Lexi to step forward. Which she did, treading gingerly, as if the machine itself might cause her pain. Slowly, hesitantly, she placed one foot on the black rubberised pad and then the other. Freya tried not to stare at the curve of her daughter’s spine as she leant forward.
The doctor once again punched the keypad and made notes on her little pad of Post-it notes.
‘Thank you, Lexi, you can pop your clothes back on. Okay, well, the good news is you have gained four pounds.’ The doctor turned to Lexi and smiled before returning her attention to the screen; again she pointed with her pencil. ‘This
puts your BMI at fourteen point eight five. You have crept just from the red to the amber. You have done so well. Still a long way to go, but this is a brilliant achievement!’
Freya smiled. Thank God! They could now, finally, start to put this behind them. The attention at mealtimes and Hilary’s sessions were working. She felt her spirits lift.
‘I would suggest carrying on with the therapist, and then I’ll see you again in a few weeks, when hopefully those pounds will have crept up. How does that sound?’
Lexi nodded. ‘Sounds good.’
She turned her head to look at Freya, meeting her eye for just a second, before looking away, as if embarrassed or as if she were lying. In fact, exactly like she was lying. Freya could see that the idea of more weight creeping on or in fact visiting the doctor again sounded far from good.
Freya sat at the desk in her study, drumming her fingers, trying to write, reading the papers online and waiting for the call that she knew would be coming through. Sure enough, a little after half past two, the phone rang.
‘Mrs Braithwaite?’
‘Yes. Hello, Doctor.’
‘It was great to see Lexi sounding more positive, and I’m glad that the therapy is popular, that’s half the battle, but I am still a little worried about her weight; she needs to gain more if she is to get out of this danger zone.’
‘She is taking the shakes.’ Freya knew she sounded defensive.
‘I know, but we need to up her daily calories. Her BMI of fourteen point eight five needs to reach sixteen point three: a weight of about one hundred pounds.’
‘What do you suggest? Sneaking butter into her soda? Shoving doughnuts in her mouth while she sleeps?’
There was a slight pause.
‘I’m sorry, Doctor; I shouldn’t lose my temper with you. I just find the whole thing so frustrating. I’m her mum. I should be able to feed her, make her better, that’s my job.’
‘No need to apologise. I understand and, for the record, your butter in the soda means you are thinking along the right lines.’
The woman’s words did nothing to ease her apprehension. She still, even after this time and much advice from the experts, felt ill-equipped to handle Lexi and her illness, and that realisation was hard to swallow.
Five hours, thirty minutes . . .
Freya crept back into the study.
‘Who was it?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Mr Rendleton. He gave me this.’
She held up a jam jar full of freshly cut lilac that drooped around the glass. Sitting against the green leaves, it looked beautiful. Placing her fingers under the bloom, she lifted them towards her nose; the scent filled her head.
‘That was so kind!’ Charlotte’s tears pooled.
‘Yes, it was. Why don’t you go and get some coffee?’
As her daughter left the room, Freya smiled softly at the jar now sitting on her desk.
Lockie poked his head around the door, he looked dishevelled. His pyjama top was misbuttoned. ‘You should have woken me earlier.’
‘I wanted you to try and get some rest.’
‘Thank you for that.’ He nodded. ‘Where’s Charlotte?’
‘Gone to make coffee.’
‘I’ll go and have my shower.’ He retreated to the landing.
Freya picked up her pen.
Being Mum to you and Charlotte has always been my very best thing. You are my proudest achievements. I know it’s my job to look after you both. My job to make sure you are protected, safe, happy and fulfilling your potential, and I take that job very seriously. I used to think this was easy and that we would figure it out as we went along. I watched you bump along from baby to child to teenager; of course none of these stages was without tears, yours or mine! But when you felt a little adrift at school, worrying about a boy or deliberating about what the future might hold, it all felt manageable. Maybe I was complacent, took my eye off the ball? I don’t know.
I think a lot, Lexi, about why you feel about your body the way that you do, wondering if it is because of one thing or several, if it was something I said or did or didn’t say or didn’t do. I often lie awake into the early hours, recounting phrases I uttered without thought.
Did they stick in your mind like those tiny seeds that get carried along on the wind? The ones that travel along until they find a home in the crevice of a brick, taking hold and growing against all the odds, carving through the structure, destabilising it, until the wall simply crumbles around the uninvited resident? Is that what it was like? A single word or idea cast indifferently in your direction that grew into the illness that it became?
What should I have done differently, Lexi?
Daddy once suggested that I didn’t set the best example, fretting over a tightened waistband and priding myself on my flat tum. I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. My obsession with food and cooking . . . I thought it was healthy, I only ever wanted to nourish you all. I had no idea that it might be doing the opposite.
I wish I had told you that a little bit of spare weight was not the end of the world, and that the most beautiful part of any human is their soul. Beauty is on the inside, beauty is goodness and it is nothing to do with a number or a dress size or a shape.
I have looked back a lot over the last few weeks and I know that I have let you down, haven’t been the best example of myself that I could or should have been. I think the truth is that I am a good mum when things go right, but when they started to go wrong . . . I failed, I dissolved in ways I never thought I would. And I know that was when you needed me the most. I’m sorry, Lexi.
I love you and I am sorry.
NINE
‘You’re very quiet, Lexi,’ Freya said across the car as they drove to her session.
Lexi shrugged in response.
‘You should be feeling very pleased with yourself. Dr Morris is proud of you. We all are!’ she enthused.
‘I know I should feel happy, Mum, I want to and I’m trying, but I can’t really.’ She spoke in a whisper, her voice faltering.
‘Why can’t you? Tell me,’ she urged.
Lexi’s fingers fidgeted as she tried to find the words and the courage.
‘I’m only eating because I have to, not because I want to, and I know I have to, so I will, but I still feel really bad about it. Every mouthful makes me feel so horrible, like I’m making myself ill, like it’s poison.’ Her bottom lip trembled and her tears fell. Freya’s gut twisted with a feeling of utter helplessness.
‘Oh, darling, I know, and the fact that you have gained, feeling as you do, is such a sign of strength. It’s incredible, and Hilary will help you turn that corner; she will help flip that switch so that you do want to eat and that will start the whole cycle of you feeling properly better. You have to believe that. You’ll get there, Lex, and I will be with you every step of the way.’
Pulling her long sleeves over her hands, Lexi wrapped her arms around her trunk, self-soothing. ‘I think that if I eat bad food I will be a bad person.’ Her distress flowed at the admission.
‘But, Lex, you have only eaten healthy food!’ She tried to rationalise, stopping herself from saying, You haven’t eaten anything bad, trying to change her own as well as Lexi’s habits – the idea that some foods were good and others bad.
‘It’s not so much whether it’s healthy food or not. It’s more about too much food. I can’t be fat, Mum.’ She shook her head, the gesture reminding Freya of Charlotte when she was small, fearful that she might be asked to go swimming with her sister. It was the same head shake at the perceived horror of the consequences.
‘You’re not overweight, Lexi, and everyone needs some fat on them; it keeps us healthy! Alive!’ She tapped the steering wheel, as if this enforced her point.
‘But I will be’ – she shook her head and screwed her face up, as if something had offended her senses – ‘if everyone keeps making me eat. I will be fat inside and out. How can you not see that?’ Her tone now was quite agitated. ‘And that would
make me a bad person and a pig! A fat pig!’ she barked, twisting her hands inside her sleeves. The snap was out of character; she sounded like a stranger.
Freya concentrated on the traffic ahead, glancing to her left when she could afford to take her eyes off the road. Did you see Diana with the eclairs? She was pigging them down! Freya recalled using the phrase in the car, talking to Lockie while the girls played in the backseat.
‘But that’s not true, darling! The food you eat and the person you are are completely separate!’
‘For you maybe.’ Her daughter stared at her, as if it was she who didn’t get it.
‘Are you going to talk to Hilary about this?’
Please talk to Hilary. Let her help you because I don’t know how to right now, Lexi. I don’t know what to do for the best and it’s killing me . . .
Again she shrugged. Not for the first time, Freya felt glad not only that Lexi had someone to talk to, but also that the professional Ms Wainwright might, unlike her, know the right thing to say.
It was three days after Lexi’s visit to Hilary when Freya opened the door to Diana. There was the briefest moment of hesitation until she stepped forward and placed her arms around her mother-in-law.
‘I should never have snapped at you like that, Diana, the last time you came.’
‘Darling, you’ve already apologised on the phone! No need to mention it, none at all.’
She patted her back and released her. The two stood facing each other, making no attempt to go upstairs, happy to snatch this time alone on the doorstep. And happy to be at ease in each other’s company.
‘I know, but it’s not the same as saying it in person. I felt, in fact I feel, like everything is imploding, but that’s still no excuse and I’m sorry.’
‘I understand, I do. I was trying to help, but I should have asked you how to help instead of wading in without knowledge. I must admit I find it jolly hard to understand, Freya, how this disease works – is it a disease, even? I don’t even know if that’s the right term!’ She blinked.
The Food of Love Page 15