She wandered into the den. Her eyes felt sore, as if full of grit, and her headache was taking hold. She stared at the lamp shining brightly in the Rendletons’ window and swallowed the tears that slipped down the back of her throat.
Marcia came as soon as she phoned, turning up bright and early, offering support and words of encouragement in her own inimitable way. Fatigue and shredded nerves gave Freya’s rant an air of hysteria.
Still in her pyjamas, she held the photograph and strolled across the kitchen to the den.
‘Look at her face! Look at her! This is what we need to return to! This is what I was trying to explain to him!’
Marcia took the small framed black-and-white print into her hands and stared at the child with her head tipped back, caught mid-giggle, her eyes half-closed, her nose wrinkled and her long fringe falling in fine wisps over her high forehead.
‘This is the child I raised, full of laughter! She always had a special light that shone from her, a joy of life. Hard to imagine when you see her now, I know.’
She and Marcia had, only minutes before, trodden the stairs after gently closing the door on Lexi’s room. It was the first time Freya could recall seeing Marcia so emotional. She had coughed, as if to clear her tear-lined throat, and buried her face in her handkerchief.
‘Are you okay?’
Marcia had only been able to nod vigorously, trying to keep her upper lip stiff.
‘This is a lovely picture,’ she managed now. ‘Is it one of Lockie’s?’
Freya nodded.
‘Are you going to call him?’ Marcia tapped her painted talons on the tabletop.
Freya shrugged. ‘Why should I? He’s hiding – that’s what he’s doing, burying his head in the sand and hoping that by the time he looks up, everything will be back to normal.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘Normal! Whatever that is – not sure I remember anymore. His instant reaction is to send her back to Larchcombe and that didn’t exactly work before.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t make him see, Marcia, just how careful we have to be of not pushing her over the edge. My instinct has always been to wrap her up, but I conceded a long time ago that I can’t do it alone, and I think intense therapy is the answer. And I was thinking that maybe I should stop work for a bit, properly concentrate on Lexi. In the meantime, I’m going to monitor her more closely, feed her more regularly . . .’
Her friend gave a less than sanguine smile, shifting in her seat. ‘Sounds like you have a plan.’
‘I do, and I feel happier for it, knowing what needs to be done.’
‘But isn’t that what you tried before and it didn’t work?’
Freya held Marcia’s gaze; the last thing she wanted to do was fall out with her best friend as well. She chose her words carefully. ‘I look at it this way: we have learnt a lot since then, and I admit I need to do it differently. I just want her better. I’ll have her friend Toby drop in more – he’s a good lad, offering old-fashioned words of encouragement that she seems to listen to. He’s an important link to life outside of this building.’
‘Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.’ Marcia’s statement carried an edge that made Freya feel a little uncomfortable. She had hoped for unconditional support. ‘But do remember, Freya . . . Lockie’s not a bad man.’
‘No, just a bit of a stubborn one.’
Marcia raised her eyebrows. ‘Perhaps, but he’s also kind, and totally devoted to you and the girls.’
‘Yes, as is evident by his wonderful support at this very difficult time – oh no, wait a minute, he’s run off to his mum’s, silly me!’ She tapped her forehead.
‘I know you are upset.’
‘You think?’
‘And I can only imagine how rubbish it must be,’ Marcia continued. ‘But I know you and I know Lockie, and he must be going through some tough stuff if he feels the only way to cope is to run away.’
‘Since when did you become such a Lockie fan? And how lovely to have the option of running away! Can you imagine if we both felt like that? Things would be a little tricky right now for Lexi and Charlotte.’ She shook her head, aware of a certain defensiveness in her tone.
They were quiet for a second before Marcia spoke.
‘He can only fall apart because he knows the girls can rely on you. It’s always been that way, but maybe he’s gone to try and get you to look at things in a different way; maybe things need to change?’
Freya heard his words of accusation loud and clear: I think in many ways her lack of progress and even her deterioration at times has been because you have found it too hard to take the hard line.
‘Have you been talking to Lockie? You sound just like him.’ She sniffed.
‘No, but I love Lockie; you know that. Mainly I love him because you work, as a couple, like peaches and cream. You are better with him. He makes you happy.’ She shrugged; there it was, this simple truth, honestly delivered.
‘Don’t forget, Marcia, it was him that walked, not me.’ She tried to remember the last time she had felt truly happy. ‘Why does everyone think I am in the wrong here?’ She gave a short, angry snort of laughter.
‘I don’t think you are in the wrong. I just think that sometimes it’s hard to see clearly when you are in so deep.’
Freya ignored her. With trembling hands, she popped a pan on the stove to heat with a knob of butter in it and picked up the spatula, deciding to make pancakes for breakfast; anything to try to get some fat into Lexi. Facing the stove, she found it easier to talk to her friend with her back to her. ‘She’s so fragile, Marcia. So very fragile, a very delicate thing. Sending her away would be like putting fine china in a box and shipping it off without any packaging. I think it’s better to hold it to my chest here, keeping it intact.’
‘I don’t know if that’s right, Freya. I think it might be too insular. Lexi is not fine china, she’s a young woman who you can’t pop on a shelf; she needs a life, a future.’
Freya closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning around to face her friend. ‘I’m aware of that, but I need to protect the life she has right now. One wrong move and she could break and I am not going to let that happen.’
I don’t know if I can do it, Marcia. I don’t know if I can hand her over like that. No one loves her like I do or knows her like I do . . .
‘But what if the one wrong move is denying her expertise outside of your care? What if that’s the thing that breaks her? How do you come back from that?’
Freya tossed the spatula on to the counter. ‘I wish people would have a little bit more faith that with proper nurturing I can get her weight up and do it in a way that doesn’t shock or hurt her!’ She had expected different from Marcia, almost preferring it when she nodded her agreement and allied herself with her, no matter what.
‘Just to clarify: by “people” you mean me?’ Marcia questioned.
‘Yes, I mean you! God, as if things aren’t hard enough!’
Marcia bristled. ‘Maybe she needs a bit of shock or hurt to make her realise how high the stakes are.’
‘With all due respect, that’s exactly the kind of phrase I’d expect from someone who is not a mother.’
Marcia visibly flinched. For a second, her veil of bluster and brazenness lifted and her eyes flashed genuine hurt.
As soon as the words had leapt unfiltered from her mouth Freya was instantly sick with regret – but also frustration and panic at not being able to convince her husband nor her good friend that she knew best.
‘I’m sorry. I am.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘But I truly believe that my way will work, we just need time.’
Marcia gave her friend a searching look, her eyes questioning, as she reached for her handbag that nestled on the floor. ‘But, Freya . . . what if you are running out of time?’
Freya watched her stand, still trying to think of the right response, while Marcia gathered up her bag and made for the stairs.
Freya felt as if she were hanging by a thread, having
spent the last two days in a cocoon of her own making. She had never felt so alone, without the reassuring presence of Lockie, and too nervous now to pick up the phone to Marcia. Her smile, fixed in place for all and every interaction with her girls, was pulled thin; all her reserves were running low.
She knocked gingerly on Charlotte’s door.
‘Come in,’ she called.
‘Last exam today, darling.’ Freya pointed out the obvious, as though Charlotte did not have a highlighted chart on the pinboard above her desk with the days crossed through in red, ending with today, which had been ringed with a pink heart and three tiny balloons.
‘I’m a bit nervous,’ Charlotte admitted, nibbling her toast and peanut butter.
‘Do you want me to run you in? I’m very happy to.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, Tara’s coming here and we’re going to get the bus together and she can test me on my French.’
‘I didn’t know Tara spoke French.’ This was news to Freya.
‘She doesn’t.’ Charlotte swallowed. ‘But I talk at her and she listens.’
‘So how does she know if you make any mistakes?’
‘She doesn’t! She gives me an A star every time!’ She laughed.
‘I see.’ Freya stared out of the window.
Charlotte replaced the toast on the plate and sighed.
‘Try not to worry about your exam. You can do this. You have worked hard and French is your thing. It’ll be a doddle.’
‘Are you okay, Mum?’
‘Of course! I’m fine.’ Freya nodded a little too enthusiastically.
‘I wish Dad was here. I liked knowing he was around even when he wasn’t in the room.’ Her statement came out of the blue.
‘I know, me too.’
‘He said we should go out for ice cream to celebrate the end of my exams. But if you’d rather I didn’t?’
Freya felt a stab of sadness at the fact that her daughter already felt the need to pick sides, or at least offer to, especially on a day when her focus should be solely on her exam. ‘No! Of course not. I’m happy for you to see him, of course, just because we are having a bit of a wobble, it shouldn’t make a jot of difference to your relationship with him or his with you. He adores you, you know that. Everything is okay.’
‘Well . . .’ Charlotte slapped her thighs, as if in conclusion. ‘As long as everything is okay . . .’
Freya noted her daughter’s sarcastic tone, but did not have the energy to get into another fight; even the idea was more than she could stand. Instead, she dug deep to find a smile for her girl on this important day, hiding the fact that even the mention of Lockie’s name sent a swirl of angst into her gut. She missed him, of that there was no doubt, but was still struggling to mentally absorb his hurtful words, analysing and re-analysing how much was spoken in anger and how much in truth.
‘I wish I could see him before my exam.’ Charlotte bit her nail.
‘Why don’t you call him?’
‘I will.’
With Charlotte duly dispatched for school with a good-luck kiss, Freya trod the stairs to Lexi’s room.
She knocked and walked in. ‘Morning, sleepyhead.’ Freya drew the curtains and opened the window a little. ‘It’s a beautiful day. Look, Lexi: lovely blue sky!’
Lexi slowly wriggled into a sitting position. Each and every day, the sight of her daughter’s huge jaw, large teeth and sunken cheekbones startled her a little.
‘I don’t feel too good,’ Lexi whined.
‘In what way?’ Freya sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over her daughter’s bony forehead.
‘My tummy hurts,’ she managed.
‘Let’s get you to Dr Morris. I was going to call her anyway, but we’ll get you in to see her.’ Freya spoke reassuringly.
Lexi shook her head no.
Freya stood and paced the room a couple of times. ‘You can’t keep saying no to everything. You can’t! If you are feeling poorly, you need to see the doctor. End of discussion.’
What if you are running out of time? Marcia’s question played in her head on a loop.
‘I don’t want to.’ Even crying seemed to take the greatest effort, as her face crumpled and she bared her teeth, her face ugly and contorted.
Freya placed her hands on her head and closed her eyes. ‘Lexi, please listen to me. You are poorly, so poorly, and now your tummy hurts. You need to see the doctor, and if you won’t let me take you to her, then I shall call an ambulance and they will take you to the hospital; this is not up for debate.’
Lockie was wrong – she could assert her authority, even while her heart twisted in agony at her daughter’s plight.
‘I can’t do that, Mum!’ Lexi cried.
‘I’ll give you ten minutes to yourself and then I’m coming up to help you get ready. I’ll call ahead and make you an appointment.’
With that she swept from the room, ignoring Lexi’s pleas and trying to hide her own trembling hands.
It took minutes of reasoning and explaining before she was given a late-afternoon appointment, reserved for emergencies. When she used the word ‘critical’, the receptionist suggested Freya try the accident and emergency department. She bit the inside of her cheek, giving only the briefest of outlines as to why her daughter was afraid of this option, only just managing to keep her cool and knowing that despite this irritating gatekeeper, Dr Morris would see her.
As she replaced the receiver the front doorbell rang. She raced down the stairs, pulling her long hair free from where it had caught in the neck of her T-shirt. Expecting the postman, she was surprised to see Lockie on the doorstep. Her natural reaction was to smile at the man she loved, before instantly remembering the impasse they had reached. His hair looked dishevelled and he needed a shave; he too looked like a man who had forgone a few good nights’ sleep.
‘You’ve got a key!’ she snapped.
‘I know, but I wasn’t sure if I should use it.’ He looked at her sheepishly.
‘Oh, Lockie, don’t be ridiculous, we are hardly estranged.’ She hated the feel of the word in her mouth. She looked to see if he had his overnight bag with him and was saddened to see that he didn’t. ‘Just come in. I’m glad you’re here. I’m worried about Lex, she has a tummy ache. I’ve called the doctor; we’ve got an appointment this afternoon. I’ve told Lexi that if she refuses to go, then I’ll take her to the hospital,’ she asserted as she walked back up the stairs.
‘What’s brought that on?’ he asked when they reached the kitchen.
‘I’m not sure, but she’s not right.’
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. She recognised his expression; knew what it felt like to hope each day for an improvement and be greeted with the exact opposite.
‘I’ll stay here today. If that’s okay? I don’t want to be away if she isn’t feeling great.’
‘Of course. This is your home, Lockie, you don’t have to ask if you can stay.’ She decided against detailing just how very lonely it had been to lie in their bed without him.
Brewster twisted around Lockie’s legs and miaowed. He reached down and lifted the puss to his chin. It tugged at her heartstrings that even the cat missed having Dad around.
‘I’ll go up and see Lexi?’ he asked, lowering Brewster to the floor.
‘Yes, do.’ She disliked the way he felt the need to ask; this, on top of not using his key, made him feel like a stranger.
She busied herself with the breakfast dishes, turning her back on him.
Lockie reappeared twenty minutes later.
‘She’s a bit sleepy, but I got the odd grunt and the occasional word. She says her tummy feels a bit better.’
‘That’s good.’ She felt her pulse calm a little.
‘She looks terrible, Freya,’ he whispered, the verbal equivalent of raising his palms, letting her know he came in peace.
She nodded calmly. Her desire and energy to mentally joust with him was now non-existent.
‘I k
now. Do you think she looks worse than when you saw her last?’ She bit her cheek, waiting for his reply.
‘I would say so, yes. What’s she eaten?’ he asked calmly.
Freya shook her head. ‘Very little.’ It felt like an admission of failure and her cheeks flamed.
Lockie let out a deep breath. ‘I’ll come with you to the doctor.’
The words of their row came flooding back to her: . . . You shut me out from day one, her very first doctor’s appointment. I sat at home, on the sidelines, excluded, because Freya knew best!
‘They may suggest she goes into hospital,’ he warned.
‘It’ll be good to get her out in the sunshine today, even if it’s only for a minute from the car to the surgery.’
He placed his hands on his hips, his stance quite confrontational, as if gearing up for a fight, but then clearly thought better of it. ‘Yes.’
Neither mentioned the fact that only days ago they were planning a family trip to Florida to sit in the sun. Neither could have guessed on that happy night just how far they would have fallen and how quickly. Diana’s money would now be put towards the kids’ future and not frittered away on anything as frivolous as a holiday.
‘I’m hoping that with Dr Morris’s help, we can turn this corner quickly,’ Freya enthused. ‘I have a plan that involves bribery, Toby, and a strict regimen of therapy and feeding.’
‘Another blip, Freya?’
She recoiled at his words and felt her tears threaten. ‘I always thought anorexia, anxiety, bulimia – that was stuff that happened to other families, families who weren’t close to their kids who didn’t communicate, or kids who for some reason sought attention. I thought we were exempt.’
The Food of Love Page 29