by Bella James
I look up into his face and tell him I love him, then morosely wave goodbye as they pull out on to the lane.
As I walk back into the house I take in the dishevelled rooms and paw prints on the wooden floor. I love this new Elm Tree but I know my father will hate it and prefer what I used to call ‘The Mausoleum.’ I anxiously go to find my mother to see if we cannot tidy up a little, and find her stretched out on the chaise lounge, Freedom draped over her lap.
My eyes widen in horror as I see she is feeding him something from thin crackers, ‘Mother, please tell me that is not Father’s foie gras?’
She shrugs her shoulders and kisses the top of his golden head. ‘Freedom needs fattening up. Your father is quite fat enough.’ She laughs like a child as the dog licks her fingers and I worry the world has gone mad.
‘Will everyone stop calling him bloody Freedom!’ I shout, not meaning to make them both jump. I feel I need to be angry, as I always do when something is out of my control. I look over to the drive and see Eddie pull up, Jules in the front seat beside him. No doubt she wants to see where Michael lives. ‘I’m going now so you’ll have to see to this mess. I don’t envy you having to deal with Father’s reaction.’
I leave my mother looking a little lost and she hugs her new friend more tightly.
I grab my bag from the hallway, eager to leave and follow Michael to Northampton. Eddie had offered to drop me off en-route to his parent’s house.
‘Damn,’ he says, starting the engine. ‘No petrol. I’ll nip down to village and get some, see you in five.’
‘I’ll just come with you,’ I tell him, annoyed at the delay and wondering why he has no petrol when Michael gave him money.
‘No, you won’t. I need you to grab me a SatNav. Didn’t you say your old man had one?’ By the time you’ve done that I’ll be back.’
He says the last part like the Terminator to make me laugh, but I am huffing and puffing, and stomp angrily back to the house.
As I run up the landing I look out of the window and see my mother and Freedom in the meadow. She is throwing him a ball and cheering when he brings it back to her. I cannot help but feel guilty for shouting at her, and think maybe I should apologise before I leave. I’ve never seen her look so happy; her blonde hair is no longer tied back, and falls prettily around her shoulders as she runs through the long grass. I continue across the landing to my parent’s bedroom and become cross once more as it takes me at least ten minutes to find what I am looking for.
I am just about to descend the staircase when I halt suddenly at the top railing. My father is home and yelling at Lillian. I suddenly realise they think they are alone in the house, Izzy is out with her friends and Mother will assume I have already left with Jules. Uncertainly, I take a few steps, then stand back in the shadows as his anger heightens. I peek over the bannister and see my mother protectively holding Freedom’s collar, who is not exactly growling at my father but his eyes are wide and his lip is curled back.
‘Get that fucking animal out of my house before I skin you alive!’
I’m shocked, as I’ve never heard him speak so aggressively, and I am frozen into silence, unable to tear my eyes away.
He makes a move towards Freedom and my mother quickly ushers her dog through the door behind her and closes it firmly, her hands trembling.
‘Don’t you dare!’ she yells back at my father. ‘Or I swear to God I will kill you!’
My father laughs nastily, and to my horror he grabs her by the throat and pushes her against the wall. Her head makes a sickening thud against the plaster but her eyes do not waver. She stares defiantly at him as he spits in her face with anger.
‘I’ve had enough you, woman! The place is a mess, you have a fucking animal in my house, and now you’re threatening me? How about I kick you out? Leave your precious house and your daughters to me, Lillian; I’ll soon have them straightened out.’
His manner is so vile I cannot recognise him as my father, and I am desperate to cry out but I am stolidly frozen in fear.
‘Do it!’ she screams, looking manic with resentment. ‘But my girls will come with me. We don’t need you, Malcolm. I’ve seen how strong Anna and Isabel are, they aren’t like me.’
‘You’ve threatened it for so long but if you ever laid a hand on either of them they would never stand for it. They aren’t children!’ He releases his grip on her neck and smooths down his jacket.
‘You’ll never leave, you stupid bitch. Don’t chime to me about your daughters, they can’t stand you. Your miserable face and the tragic martyr you’ve become. I’m going back to the city, and when I decide to come home I expect that animal gone and this house back to a respectable state.’
My mother holds her throat where he had grabbed it and makes a little laugh. ‘You won’t come back, Malcolm. I’m filing for divorce and I’ll stay at Elm Tree with Izzy and Anna. Should you have anything to say I will tell everyone about the monster you are.’
His face has gone deep red and my heart is beating fast, praying he will not attack her again.
‘No one will believe you, Lillian.’
‘Take that chance.’ She turns to face him head on, looking and sounding much braver and to me, quite magnificent. ‘Because if they do, and believe me I have collected enough proof over the years, then you will be ruined, Malcolm. No one wants to do business with a cowardly wife beater, and I will drag your name through court like it is mud.’
She opens the door and Freedom no longer looks afraid. In fact, he is barking quite ferociously at my father, who, instead of beating Lillian, picks up his bag and leaves the house in silence.
My mother bends down to praise her dog and looks up in horror as she sees me running down the stairs, tears streaming down my face as I run straight past her, ignoring her desperate voice begging me to come back.
I see my father’s Land Rover swerve to miss Eddie’s car as he drives down the lane and when I jump in, I tell him there has been a change of plan and demand they take me to the village.
***
After the village, we drive home in silence and I give Jules a less traumatic version of what has happened.
‘I knew they weren’t happy but I had no idea …’ Her voice trails off and I ask them to wait outside as I run back up to the house, finding my mother still pacing the entrance hall. ‘Oh Anna.’ She reaches for me and I allow her to hold on to me tightly. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She just looks at me as I hand her the little paper bag I have been carrying.
‘I didn’t buy any Christmas presents, what with everything, so I got this for you.’
I don’t want to talk yet about what has transpired, and she nods silently, opening the wrapping and tissue paper. Into her hand falls a soft leather collar with a shiny gold disc attached, sparkling as it catches the light and showcasing the engraved golden letters, ‘Freedom’.
A tear falls from her eyes as she smiles at me and we beckon him over. The soft collar fits beautifully and we laugh as he barks proudly.
Chapter Twelve:
The Palomino
Izzy and I stay with Mother for a couple of days, which we spend fussing over her, until I can bear his absence no longer and demand to be taken to see Michael so we can spend New Year’s Eve together.
I had no idea what to expect, but as we pull up to the ranch I can see it is quite beautiful. All the fences and gates are gleaming white, and although the ground is covered with a thick layer of snow, I can see they will look exquisite against the lush green grass of summer. For acres, I can see horses, and we shout out in delight as a herd of six deer run across one of the paddocks.
‘Wow!’ Izzy, leans forward as Mother turns the steering wheel. ‘This is like Aintree! Your boyfriend must be loaded.’
I frown crossly that she may presume I cared about such things, but was secretly pleased that she looked suitably impressed. I’d had few moments of anxiety regarding Sunrise Ranch, worrying that it may be a little tacky.
A
s I look along the tree-lined driveway I see an impressive, sprawling manor, built with sandstone and surrounded by well-manicured gardens. To the left of the house is a row of quaint cottages and to the right, the entrance to a grand stable block.
Izzy looks at my worried face and laughs. ‘Are we impressed, Madam? Not what you were expecting?’
I tell her to be quiet as Michael comes running out of the house, followed by a Black Labrador and a Jack Russell yapping at his feet. He hugs us all and invites Izzy in for drinks but Mother politely declines and we eye each other nervously. I know she does not want be rude, but I have not told Michael that my father has left, and we certainly do not want to discuss the reasons why.
He raises his eyebrows at me and I smile confidently. ‘They have to get back to Freedom, Michael. He has err, separation anxiety!’
He looks unconvinced but welcomes them back anytime, and Mother promises they will as she waves and drives away.
My feeling of shyness returns until Michael pulls me into a bear hug and kisses the top of my head. ‘I’m so glad you decided to spend New Year with us, darling. I was disappointed you couldn’t come sooner. Is everything all right?’
I reach up on my toes and kiss his smooth jaw. ‘It is now,’ I tell him, and he picks up my bags and leads me to the house.
His father and step-mother are hovering in the hallway as we ascend the steps and cross the porch. ‘Hello. Anna, I’m Michael, M.J.’s father. This is Caroline.’ I step forward to shake their hands but they both hug me and I laugh, raising my eyes at Michael when his father calls him M.J.
‘Michael Junior,’ he tells me, emphasising his American accent and tipping his baseball cap.
‘I like it,’ I say laughing. ‘It’s so nice to meet you both. M.J. has told me a lot about you, and Sunrise Ranch is beautiful.’
His father smiles warmly and I like him already. He does not look like Michael at all; his eyes and hair are very dark and his skin is deeply tanned. Michael has blue eyes and his hair has grown back dark blond, which he still keeps shaved close to his head.
Caroline looks a little older than my mother, perhaps about forty-five and her brown hair is wild and her curly, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief.
‘Well, Anna, we have certainly heard a lot about you over the last few months. We have been positively dying to meet you, but M.J. kept putting us off.’
‘Oh, that was my fault, Caroline,’ I jump to his defence. ‘I wanted to feel a little better first.’
Caroline puts her arm around me as she leads us into an enormous kitchen, ‘He told us how poorly you have you been, and how brave you are.’ She sees my slight discomfort and tactfully changes the subject. ‘Well, you’re here now; that’s all that matters, right? I know you’re still in recovery but can I tempt you with a little tipple to warm your cockles?’
I nod happily as she pours each of us a warm, heady mixture from a bubbling pan. I smell cinnamon and taste brandy as I drink from the crystal cup and Michael’s father tells me it is their special ‘hot toddy.’
We talk for a little while and I find myself trying hard to keep my eyes open, but the kitchen is so warm and even the tiniest tot of alcohol goes straight to my head these days.
Michael puts his arm around me and orders me to take a nap before dinner. ‘It’s only two o’ clock, so if you have a few hours sleep now then you might stand a chance of staying awake until midnight with me.’
I let him lead me to a cosy guest room and smile to myself as I slip under the warm blankets. Our surroundings were indeed apt, for wild horses could not have stopped me seeing in the New Year in with Michael.
***
I had ordered him to wake me up no later than seven, but find myself waking up naturally, and the clock on the wall tells me it is only quarter past six. I am pleased to have a little time to freshen up and get changed, and am happier still to find that my room has a pleasant en-suite.
I pick up my wig from beside the bed and head into the bathroom with my overnight bag. I don’t think I have time for a shower, and would prefer not to wash away Izzy’s carefully sculpted eyebrow magic, so I just wash myself and spray on some floral deodorant and perfume. I look at my reflection critically and pray that Michael does not come in and see me like this. My pretty peach underwear cannot distract from my jutting hips and visible chest bones, and I find myself wishing I could gain even a little weight, but the medication I still need to take has entirely crushed my appetite. I make a mental note to eat more even if I don’t really feel like it, otherwise I shall be stuck with this skeletal reflection for the foreseeable future. I shake my head and look more closely at my face as I apply some moisturiser. There are still persistent dark circles under my eyes, but I have grown quite accomplished at hiding those with concealer, and after applying a little blusher, my skin looks glowing. Izzy has shown me how to apply eyebrows but I never get it as perfect as she does, although thankfully now I have a line to follow as some of my brows are slowly returning. I smudge grey kohl pencil around my few lashes and plump up my lips with gloss. When I am satisfied with my face I remove the net that secures my wig and set about replacing the dressing for my scar.
Rather than healing quickly, as Mr Raj had assured it would, the groove of the scar is angry and red, feeling hot to the touch. I sigh inwardly as I hear him telling me sternly not to wear my wig and net for at least six weeks after the operation, but I find I cannot possibly maintain such instruction. I could not have sat opposite Father on Christmas Day with no hair – not that that mattered to me at all any more. I would have rather died than go to Jules’ party looking wretched, and I could hardly meet my boyfriend’s family looking like I had escaped from a prisoner of war camp.
So the wig had stayed put, and now my scar was swollen and sore. I carefully replaced the dressing and painfully squeezed the net on top of it before gently smoothing down my crowning glory. I know I look so much better, and it would be worth it. I still make a promise to myself that as soon as I get back to Elm Tree I will give my scar a break from the heat and confinement of my fake tresses.
I jump as the door knocks and quickly pull on my robe as Michael enters, carrying a tray. He looks pleased that I am up and I smell freshly ground coffee and warm cookies. ‘Did Caroline make those?’ I ask, remembering my resolution and biting into one.
‘Actually, my father did. He does most of the cooking. Hates English food, the one thing he tries to hold on to is his American cuisine. I think he missed the states more than he tells us. You look beautiful. Have you been awake for long?’
‘Just a few minutes or so.’ I smile sweetly, despite having just spent forty-five minutes reincarnating myself.
I drink the strong, milky coffee but only manage half a cookie.
‘Eat the other half,’ Michael tells me in fake annoyance.
‘I can’t.’ I flutter my eyelashes, enjoying his attention to my well-being.
‘Eat the other half or I’ll be forced to have my wicked way with you.’
I laugh delightedly as I drop the unwanted remains into my coffee cup and Michael delivers on his welcomed threat.
***
Still laughing I dress in my favourite jeans and a light grey cashmere jumper while Michael remakes the bed and dusts cookie crumbs from the covers.
‘We’ll have dinner soon; it’s a family tradition to all have dinner together on New Year’s Eve. I’m so glad you’re here.’ He pulls me closer for a final kiss before we run downstairs, and despite my repressed appetite, my mouth waters at the delicious aromas as we head into the kitchen.
‘There you are!’ Caroline beckons me over and asks me to open a couple of bottles of wine. There is no time to feel shy or awkward with Caroline and Michael Senior – they have a busy energy that keeps you moving and carries you along with them.
Michael’s father sees me struggling with the fancy corkscrew and takes it from me, asking me to fetch some glasses from the cabinet and set them on the table instead. I am
happy to do so, and wonder fleetingly why I found it so hard to help my mother lay the table at Elm Tree this Christmas. I pause for a second and remember how flustered she had seemed when she asked me to find the placemats and cutlery and how angrily I had shouted at her, ‘Lay the table?! How absolutely charming of you to give your daughter chores when she has just had a tumour removed. From her brain,’ I had added for good measure, pulling my wig off. Izzy had grabbed the place settings herself and told me to stop shouting and I huffed crossly in front of the fire complaining why dinner was taking so long.
‘Are you OK, Anna?’ Michael looks at me with worried eyes.
‘Yes… I’m fine.’ I smile at him and jolt back into action, but not before I recollect how jumpy my mother had been as Father and I critiqued her burned parsnips. I prayed silently that I was not like him.
I have to push these thoughts to the back of my head as a fresh wave of guilt washes over me, and I wonder how I could have been so mean when she was clearly already suffering.
There is no critical judgement at Sunrise Ranch; everyone laughs and talks animatedly while we eat heartily. We had roast turkey and buttermilk biscuits with rich sausage gravy. Some of the food I had never tried before, and it was all quite heavy but I embraced my new resolve to gain weight and ate as much as I could, much to everyone’s delight.
Michael Senior particularly approved. ‘Jolly good, Anna. You’ve tried everything. We’ll make a smashing cowgirl of you yet!’ He says this with a British accent, making us all laugh once more.
I sigh happily and take a little sip of wine as my eyes fall upon a photograph of a young boy with very dark features resembling Michael’s father. ‘Is that Benji?’ I ask, and before my words are spoken I wish I had said nothing, I did not want to be the cause of a downward mood when we were having such a lovely time.
Only Michael’s face darkens as Caroline says, ‘Yes, Anna. That’s Benji. I never got to meet him but we like to talk about him and try to keep his memory alive.’ She looks pointedly at Michael, who scrapes back his chair and says he needs some fresh air. I stand up to follow him but his father takes my hand and motions me to sit back down.
