‘Yeah, well, it’s true. And I’m not going to let that happen to Mum.’
I look at the picture of the woman lying in an operating theatre with plastic all over her like a building covered in scaffolding.
I come and sit next to Jake on the bed.
There’s a creak at the bottom of the stairs. Doing a few stairs every day is on the exercise plan I’ve devised for Mum.
I take a breath. ‘You don’t know stuff, do you? I mean, stuff that you aren’t telling me?’
Jake looks at the door. He gulps and his eyes go watery.
‘Why don’t you have a talk with your mum?’ he says. ‘A proper talk. Ask her straight out about the things you’ve found out.’
Which, once again, isn’t an answer to my question.
‘She won’t open up,’ I say. ‘I know Mum.’
I glance back at all the obesity stories and push the pads of my thumbs into the corners of my eyes to press the tears back in. Then I blink and look right at Jake:
‘The nurse at the hospital said that if Mum didn’t get healthy, she’d die within six months. That was in January.’
Jake takes my hand. His palm feels warm. ‘I think it’s amazing, what you’re doing for your mum,’ he says. ‘How much you want her to get better.’
‘She doesn’t think it’s amazing.’
‘She does, I’m sure she does. You just have to give it time.’
‘She doesn’t have time, Jake, that’s the point.’
‘Just keep doing what you’re doing, Feather.’ He holds my hand to his heart and smiles. ‘You’re a real hero, you know that?’ He uses one of those booming voice-overs from his zombie movies.
I think about the superhero costumes in Mrs Zas’s shop and how all the characters who wear them have these special powers: they can climb up buildings or fly or have steel running through their veins. Even some of Jake’s zombies have super powers. And me? Puny little Feather to the rescue. What a joke.
And then I spot something over Jake’s shoulder. A bit of peeling wallpaper. I go over and scratch at it.
‘What are you doing?’ Jake asks.
‘Have a look.’
He comes and kneels beside me on the bed. ‘What is it?’
‘It looks like someone painted on the wall.’ I scratch a bit more at the wallpaper. ‘And then pasted over it.’ I keep scratching. ‘Probably the owners before Mum and Dad.’
I’d never thought of anyone living in our cottage before us.
I lean forward and look at the wall. There’s a patch of bright blue paint. I pull at the bit of wallpaper that’s coming loose.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t do any more,’ Jake says.
I ignore him and keep scraping at the wallpaper until I’ve uncovered a patch as big as my palm.
‘A fish…’ I look at the red fins of a cartoon goldfish with bubbles coming out of its mouth. ‘Maybe the previous owners liked the sea.’
I keep scratching and pulling. Next to the fish, there’s an octopus and next to that a seahorse.
‘Looks nicer than the stuff I have on my wall. I should take all the wallpaper down,’ I say.
‘Maybe ask your dad first.’
I shrug. ‘He won’t care.’
‘Feather!’ Mum’s voice echoes up the stairs. ‘Feather! I need you to come down.’
‘Coming!’ I yell back.
As I’m climbing off the bed, Jake catches my hand.
‘You won’t do anything stupid, will you Feather?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s just, you seem a bit wired, doing all this research about your mum. You should be focusing on your swimming, and on school…’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I say.
But I’m not going to stop. Not until I know everything about what Mum was like before I was born. Jake hasn’t seen anything yet.
25
I’m sitting at the computer in the mobile library. Penny, the librarian, asked me to keep an eye on things while she went to use the public loo across The Green.
I can’t stop reading those articles about Mum and her life before me.
The door to the van squeaks open.
‘No one’s been in,’ I say, clicking onto another article from the Newton News. It’s about Mum cutting the ribbon at the opening of the Lido.
Penny doesn’t answer so I look up.
It’s Rev Cootes. He’s standing in the doorway, his cheeks pink. And he’s shifting from foot to foot like he wants to make a run for it.
‘Hi Rev Cootes,’ I say. ‘Penny’s popped out for a moment. Can I help you find something?’
Rev Cootes looks out onto The Green through the open door like he’s worried he’s been followed.
I stand up and go over to him. ‘Rev Cootes?’
I’m kind of glad he’s come in. Maybe here, in the library, without anyone else about, I can ask him stuff about Mum.
‘Perhaps I should come back later…’ Rev Cootes says.
‘It’s fine, Penny leaves me in charge all the time. Were you coming in for a book?’
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
‘What kind of book?’
He scratches his head. ‘Erm…’
I’ve sat in the mobile library a few times when customers have come in to ask Penny for dodgy books, but I don’t imagine that Rev Cootes would be into that stuff.
I go over to Penny’s computer. ‘Do you know who the author is?’
‘No…’
‘The title?’
He shakes his head.
Rev Cootes’s house is filled with books. He’s a booky kind of person. So it’s weird that he doesn’t know what he’s looking for.
‘What’s it about?’ I ask.
Though it’s not like I’m going to know it. I can count on one hand the books I’ve read.
His cheeks go a brighter shade of pink.
‘Clay…’ he says really softly.
‘A book about clay?’ I ask. And then I get it and feel my cheeks blush too. ‘Oh… you mean Clay, your grandson?’
He nods.
I really don’t know what he’s getting at. There’s hardly going to be a book about Clay – is there?’
‘About his eating…’ Rev Cootes says really fast. He clears his throat. ‘About his not eating.’
‘Oh.’
‘I thought there might be a book… to help me understand.’
I get that guilty feeling when you’ve been focusing so hard on your own problems that you’ve totally missed the fact that someone else is struggling with things too. Possibly even worse things.
‘Let me do a search,’ I say.
I type anorexia into the search bar of Penny’s online book catalogue.
A whole lot of books flash up onto the screen. The dust jackets are covered with pictures of girls.
Then I have an idea.
I type in: male anorexia.
‘If it’s too much trouble…’ Rev Cootes says.
‘No, not at all.’
One book comes up.
‘I’ve found something that might help,’ I say.
I swivel the screen round so he can see and watch as he reads the title:
Boys Get Anorexia Too by Jenny Langley.
He scratches his head again and his eyebrows go droopy.
I do a quick search on the computer to see if Penny’s got it in stock but it doesn’t come up. Which isn’t exactly surprising: I’d be surprised if many people knew there was a book about boys and eating disorders. And the fact that there are millions of books on anorexia about girls and only one on boys kind of suggests that there isn’t much of a market for the subject either.
‘It’s not in, but I’ll leave a note for Penny to order it for you,’ I say.
‘Oh, no, no… that all sounds like a great deal of trouble.’ He pulls at his dog collar. ‘Let’s leave it.’
‘It’s no trouble. Penny likes to order new books.’ I’ve already started scribbling a note for her. ‘There, it’s d
one. She’ll let you know when it’s here.’
‘Thank you…’ Rev Cootes says in a small voice.
I lean forward and try to catch his eye. ‘I think it’s great. That you’re trying to understand Clay. He needs that.’
‘A mother’s what he needs,’ Rev Cootes blurts out. And then he puts his wrinkly fingers over his mouth. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbles.
‘It’s okay. You’re worried.’
‘Yes.’ He clears his throat again. ‘Well, thank you, Feather. You and your friend Jake have been a great help.’
I feel a stab in my chest. ‘Jake?’
‘I don’t know what Clay would do without him. He’s a wonderful boy.’
‘Yes… yes, he is.’
I should feel happy for Clay that he’s got someone to turn to. That he’s got Jake. But I can’t help wishing that he’d just said that about me instead.
He turns to go and I remember what I wanted to ask him when he first came in.
‘Rev Cootes?’ I call after him.
He turns back round.
‘Could I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘What made Mum change?’
His bushy eyebrows shoot up. ‘Change?’
‘I’ve found out about what she was like before… before she got so big… before she locked herself in the house. And that she wasn’t at all like she is now. Like the things you said the other day at Bewitched.’
He nods slowly.
‘You must have known her really well – back then.’
He nods again.
‘So, what happened?’
‘Sometimes, the thing we love most in the world betrays us.’ He pauses. ‘And that changes us forever.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask but he’s turned round again and is heading out of the library door and down the steps. ‘Rev Cootes – what do you mean?’ I shout after him.
But he’s gone.
26
I empty a jug of water over Mum’s hair.
‘Is the temperature okay, Mum?’
Mum’s sitting in front of the kitchen sink, her head tilted back. Tuesday’s come round again and I’m washing Mum’s hair for the Slim Skills meeting. For the last month, they’ve been coming to the house. Mum’s giving her testimony today.
‘It’s fine,’ Mum says. ‘Thank you, my love.’
I rinse out the last of the conditioner.
‘You’re going to look amazing, Mum.’
I wrap a towel around Mum’s head and help her sit up.
‘You’ve got your speech prepared?’
Mum nods, though I can tell she’s nervous.
‘Your mother is a brilliant public speaker,’ Dad says.
He’s wearing his apron and is busy arranging bits of smoked salmon and cucumber on a serving dish. He’s been learning to cook healthy stuff for Mum. And the other day he spent hours clearing out his van.
‘Mum’s a good public speaker?’ I ask.
I’m hoping she might say something about the demonstration or the other stuff she did when she was younger.
‘That was a long time ago,’ Mum says.
‘You’re always saying that, Mum.’
Mum doesn’t answer.
I rub Mum’s head with a towel, plug in the hairdryer and blast hot air at her head.
‘Everyone’s going to be so proud, Mum. Three stone in just over a month, that’s amazing. Wait till Mitch hears!’
‘Is Jake coming over later?’ Dad asks.
‘He’s gone to Newton with Clay and Amy,’ I say, hoping that my words get lost over the blast of the hairdryer. Because Dad’s right. A few months ago, on a day like today, a special day for me, Jake would have been here in a heartbeat. These days, it feels like I have to compete for every minute of his time.
I bat away the thought. I have to focus on today and on Mum’s testimony.
‘Well, he’s missing out – from what Mitch tells me, we’re in for a feast,’ Dad says.
Mitch asked everyone to bring a healthy dish – it was his Challenge of the Week.
Mum’s hair has got thin lately from all the meds, so it doesn’t take as long to dry as usual. I pick up her old make-up bag from the kitchen counter and rifle through it.
I pull out the mascaras and eye shadows and lipsticks.
‘You really used to wear all this stuff, Mum?’
‘I don’t remember. Maybe,’ Mum says.
I screw open one of the lipsticks and apply it to Mum’s mouth. It’s gone dry so I have to press really hard.
Mum’s warm breath brushes against my skin.
‘Not too much, Feather,’ Mum says.
‘You’ve got to look the part, Mum.’
Dad is staring at Mum, smiling. ‘I remember that colour, Josie.’
‘You do, Dad?’
Outside, Houdini bleats. A moment later, the doorbell rings.
I look at my watch.
‘We’re not expecting anyone until four.’
I put the make-up bag on Mum’s lap and run out of the kitchen.
Houdini still hasn’t stopped bleating.
Allen stands at the top of the ramp with his big Canon camera dangling round his neck.
‘You’re early,’ I say.
‘Didn’t Mitch say?’
‘Say what?’
‘I’m doing a piece for the health and fitness section of the Newton News – about Slim Skills and how it’s helping the community to get healthy.’ He pats his stomach. ‘Even my beer belly’s gone down.’
‘Mum won’t like it,’ I say. ‘Especially not that.’ I nod at the camera.
‘I promise I’ll do her justice,’ Allen says. ‘I’m out to write a feel-good story about how this amazing group of people has been coming together to support each other in leading a healthier life.’ He smiles, revealing a row of small, coffee-stained teeth. ‘It will help people who are struggling with their weight and their health. It will bring more people to the group.’
I suppose that would be a good thing.
‘That’s all you’re going to write about?’ I ask Allen.
‘Yep. I’ll pass the article past Mitch before it gets published.’
Houdini is straining so hard at his lead that I’m worried the bolts on his kennel are going to come loose. I go over and give him a stroke but he won’t calm down. He head-butts my shins.
Allen walks over and strokes his horns. ‘These are meant to bring luck, right?’
I nod.
Houdini yanks his head away from Allen.
‘He’s quite the character, isn’t he?’ Allen holds his camera to his face and clicks a photo of me and Houdini.
Houdini kicks his back hooves in the air. I yank on his lead. ‘Calm down, Houdini,’ I say.
He bleats and then lies down and puts his head on his hooves and stares up at Allen.
‘So, are you going to let me in?’
‘Can you ditch the camera?’ I ask.
‘Sorry?’
‘Mum doesn’t like cameras. And I think it’s best if you don’t tell her you’re doing a piece.’
I don’t lie to Mum. But then she’s been lying to me about all kinds of stuff. And this isn’t a bad lie, it’s just to make sure Mum goes through with her testimony.
‘I see.’
Allen goes and puts his camera in the boot of his car and then comes back up the ramp.
I guide him to the kitchen.
‘Hi, Mum, Allen’s come early to help set up.’ I swallow hard.
Mum and Dad nod and smile and shake hands with him.
‘I hear you’re giving a testimony today,’ Allen says. ‘You’re a real inspiration.’
‘I’ve got a long way to go,’ Mum says.
Allen looks around the kitchen, like he’s taking a photo with his eyes instead of his camera. Then he says, ‘May I use your loo – before everyone gets here?’
‘Sure,’ Dad says. ‘To the right of the lounge.’
We watch Allen di
sappear through the door. I listen to his shoes squeaking down the hall.
I take a mascara wand out of Mum’s wash bag.
‘Here, Mum, let me do your eyes.’
She closes her eyes and I look at her face: her eyelashes are really long and thick and her skin is smooth and her lips are this perfect shape. She really is beautiful.
Houdini bleats – his face appears at the kitchen window. He must have yanked his lead loose from the kennel.
I put down the mascara. ‘I’ll go.’
I dash outside and tie Houdini back up.
‘Please don’t play up today.’ I give him a kiss on the soft bit between his horns.
Houdini sits down by his kennel but I can tell he’s going to start yanking again the minute I’m back inside.
‘Today’s an important day.’
When I come in I walk past the lounge and then I hear a squeaking. I push open the door.
Allen’s standing bang in the middle of the lounge, scanning the room.
‘What are you doing in here?’ I hiss.
Allen spins round. ‘Sorry, got lost.’
Getting lost in our cottage is basically impossible. Besides the kitchen and the lounge there’s only one room on the ground floor and that’s the loo.
‘Well, the loo’s this way.’
I wait for him to come out through the door and point at the loo door.
‘Sorry, no sense of direction,’ Allen says and closes the loo door behind him.
‘Feather?’ Mum calls out from the kitchen. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Fine!’ I call back. ‘Everything’s fine.’
‘So, this week, we’re celebrating a very special milestone.’ Mitch stands at the far end of the conservatory, his arms stretched out, staring at Mum. ‘Jo – you ready?’
Dad and I are sitting on either side of Mum. Dad squeezes her hand and I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek.
‘You’re going to be amazing, Mum,’ I whisper.
It’s a pretty big step, going from not leaving the house in thirteen years to speaking in front of a room full of people. The Slim Skills group has grown bigger recently and Nurse Heidi’s come for moral support and so has Steph, even though Mum didn’t say a proper hello to her. Steph’s the most loyal person I know, I just wish Mum would get over whatever it is she’s holding against her and realise that best friends like Steph don’t come along every day.
Wishbones Page 18
