‘History of art.’
‘That should be easy,’ he replied, seemingly with no idea of how insulting or demeaning his response might be.
‘For you maybe.’ She gave a small giggle. ‘But not for me.’
‘I think it’s an easier degree than maths or one of the sciences.’
Charlotte stared at her mum in pure frustration, her anger welling. Freya could almost see the steam coming out of her ears; she tried to intervene in order to steer the conversation.
‘Oh.’ Freya was a little lost for words. ‘Where are you applying, Toby?’
‘Imperial.’
‘Just the one?’ She was curious, knowing that school had advised applying to at least three universities.
Toby gave a burst of derisory laughter. ‘My dad read maths at Imperial, my grandfather read maths at Imperial, my great-grandfather—’
‘Let me guess,’ Lockie interrupted, ‘read maths at Imperial?’
Toby stared at him. ‘No. He was killed in the war.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that.’ He sipped his wine.
Freya exchanged a glance with her husband, to which he raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes.
‘Do you have air conditioning?’ the boy asked suddenly, as he took a seat at the table.
‘Air conditioning?’ Lockie repeated. ‘No, we prefer the old open-the-windows-and-let-the-fresh-air-cool-your-bones approach.’
‘I’m allergic to air conditioning, or more specifically, the change in temperature. It irritates my chest. I have asthma.’ He made the announcement with his index finger raised.
‘Oh.’ Lockie reached for the wine and topped up his large glass. ‘Sorry to hear that too, but you are quite safe.’ He winked.
‘I’m also allergic to paracetamol, bees and cats.’
Freya opened her mouth to respond when Brewster tiptoed into the room.
‘I’ll shut him upstairs.’ Charlotte jumped up, seeming glad of the chance to leave the table, even if it was only for a few minutes.
‘I am fairly certain that there are no bees or paracetamol in tonight’s supper, and with Brewster incarcerated, you should be fine!’ Lockie raised his glass.
‘My father works for the government,’ Toby announced, as he rearranged his cutlery until it was perfectly symmetrical with the edge of the place mat.
‘So did mine!’ Lockie boomed. ‘He was an army man.’
Toby stared at him. ‘I’m a pacifist.’
‘Amen to that! Although, I think it’s fair to say that most people are until the marauding masses are battering down the door with a burning torch in one hand and a big swag bag, waiting to be filled, in the other.’ Lockie raised his glass again.
Freya could see that this was her husband’s intention, to get through the evening with the aid of wine. She pushed her empty glass towards him. It sounded like a fine plan.
‘Ta-dah!’ Lexi lifted the big casserole pot and placed it in the middle of the table, just as Charlotte reappeared.
‘Smells delicious, Lex!’ her sister enthused, as she retook her seat.
Lexi beamed as she spooned a large portion on to Toby’s plate.
‘Does this have tarragon in it?’ He lowered his nose towards the dish, inhaling the pungent scent of liquorice.
‘Yes.’ Lexi beamed.
‘I don’t like tarragon,’ Toby stated.
All eyes turned to Freya, who sprayed wine as she laughed, the sound erupting suddenly at the boy’s revelation.
‘I’m so sorry!’
She hid her mouth with her cupped palm and laughed some more, aware the sound was a little close to hysteria.
The adults were keen to claim washing-up duties and sent their offspring and rather awkward guest off to chill out after supper. Lockie held an earthenware platter in his palm and dried it with a tea towel.
‘Do you think it’s safe to let him go up to Lexi’s room?’ he whispered to his wife.
Freya, with her hands in the sink, submerged under the bubbles, gave him a sideways look.
‘I think with any other seventeen-year-old boy I would be most agitated, but with Toby . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘I feel that she is entirely safe. He’s a funny old fish,’ she whispered back.
‘Funny? Charlotte is right! He’s a proper weirdo!’ He laughed quietly, shoulders hunched.
‘Don’t be so mean!’ She flicked bubbles at him.
‘You started it!’
‘Sssshh!’ She flapped her hand. The wine they had consumed over supper now provided a gloss of hilarity over all they did and said.
‘I’m worrying now, though. Perhaps we should be more concerned, perhaps he is actually a red-hot sex god and his nerdiness is his disguise to lull parents into a false sense of security.’
‘Well, now I’m worried!’ She paused from her pan scrubbing.
‘Go up and check.’ Lockie nudged her.
‘Why me?’ She laughed. ‘Why don’t you go?’
‘Because if there are any shenanigans going on, you will politely ask him to leave, whereas I would break his neck.’
‘Good point.’ She giggled. ‘But I thought our policy was you have to give trust to get trust, remember?’
‘Your parents trusted me, remember?’ He grinned, reminding her of the weekend he had first been introduced to her family and their desperate, hurried trysts in her childhood bedroom, conducted against the door to block the path of any potential intruders.
‘Right. I’m going up.’ She threw the sponge into the sink. ‘Shall I take biscuits?’
‘Depends.’ Lockie placed his hand on his chin, as if in deep contemplation. ‘Do the biscuits contain any cat, paracetamol or bees? Or have they been exposed to any air conditioning? And more crucially did they read maths at Imperial?’
‘You are not remotely funny.’
She tried to contain her amusement as she wiped her hands dry and made for the stairs.
Hovering on the square landing outside Lexi’s room, she listened at the door. It was hard to hear anything distinct. There was possibly the low whisper of voices, but that might have been coming from Charlotte’s room, where she chatted endlessly to her friends.
Pulling her shoulders back, she took an age to turn the handle, giving it a little rattle and twisting it both ways before pushing open the door, giving the occupants a few precious seconds in which to . . . Actually she didn’t want to think about the possibilities that Lockie had placed in her brain.
‘Hey, Mum.’
Freya smiled at the two who sat on the bed with their backs against the wall and their legs dangling over the edge. They neither jumped nor seemed surprised, and there was certainly no indication of alarm.
‘Can I get you guys anything? Biscuits? A drink?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ Lexi smiled.
‘No, thank you.’ Toby was cool and polite, as ever.
She took a step closer to the bed and Lexi shut the lid of her laptop. There was something in her gesture that caused Freya’s pulse to quicken.
‘What are you looking at?’ she asked casually.
‘Nothing.’ Lexi wriggled backwards until she was even more upright, as if poised to flee or fight.
‘Well if it’s nothing, you can show me?’ she asked with a slight smile, trying to keep things friendly and calm.
‘It’s nothing.’ Lexi repeated the unsatisfying explanation.
‘You should tell your mother. There’s no shame in it.’ Toby stared at Lexi, addressing her as if they were alone.
Freya swallowed, her mind raced. What on earth . . . ?
‘No shame in what? What exactly are you looking at?’ Her friendly note had all but disappeared.
‘Nothing, Mum! Can you just leave us alone?’ Lexi slapped the duvet in frustration.
‘Saying “nothing” when you are clearly looking at something is not going to reassure me in any way, so I suggest you either show me what is on your laptop or I shall take it from you!’ She hated how quickly the situation had
deteriorated; this was the last thing she had wanted, especially in front of her daughter’s guest.
‘You’ll take it from me? You can’t! It’s my laptop!’ Lexi shouted.
As she might have predicted, Lockie bounded up the stairs and into the bedroom.
‘What’s going on here?’ His expression was no longer amused.
‘Lexi won’t show me what they’ve been looking at and Toby says he thinks she should confide in us, as it’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ she quoted for full effect.
‘Is that right?’
She watched the twist of Lockie’s jaw.
Lexi grabbed the laptop and held it against her chest. Her tears fell as she lowered her head, holding the machine under her chin.
‘Please don’t cry, darling, we are just trying to keep you safe!’ The sight of her tears melted Freya’s resolve. She was aware of her flip, but was equally as aware of her daughter’s fragility, and to see her tears, shed in front of the boy she liked, was heart-wrenching. Freya eyed Toby, who sat rigidly on her daughter’s bed. She wanted him to leave.
‘It’s something that we have in common,’ he began.
‘Shut up, Toby!’ Lexi screamed at him.
He stood, his face pale, his expression one of utter confusion. ‘I believe you can be just as dishonest through omission as you can from lying, and I am not a liar. You should show your parents.’
‘What exactly are you talking about?’ Lockie placed his hands on his hips and stood in front of Toby.
‘We met in a Pro Ana chat room.’ Toby stared at him, as though his words would be enough.
‘A what?’ Freya leant forward, trying to recall the word he had used. ‘Pranna’? She hadn’t heard it before.
‘And actually it wasn’t just Pro Ana, it was for safe self-harming in a supportive community. And despite what people think, it’s not a disease. It’s a lifestyle choice.’ He jutted his chin.
Lockie grabbed Toby by the arm. Hearing the word ‘self-harming’ was all it took to tip the balance.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about and I don’t know what game you are playing, but you get out of my house right now and you don’t ever come back, and you stay the hell away from my daughter. Do you understand me?’
Toby looked at him. ‘I help her, I—’
‘Get out!’ It was Freya’s turn to shout.
Charlotte came out of her room. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
Toby hesitated on the top stair.
‘I was just trying to explain to your parents about Pro Ana and our choices, how it’s better to conduct yourself and live your life in a controlled way, a safe way, with support.’
He walked calmly down the stairs. Freya noted Charlotte’s expression of disgust.
She listened until she heard the faint slam of the front door before sitting on her daughter’s bed.
‘What is he talking about, Lexi? I’m quite scared,’ she admitted.
Lockie paced the room, as Charlotte stood at the foot of her sister’s bed calmly, her arms folded across her chest. Freya saw in her daughter’s expression that she knew more than she was letting on.
‘Do you know what this is all about?’
Charlotte nodded and paused.
‘Seriously, love, I am this close to exploding!’ She held her thumb and forefinger close together, warning her daughter that she could only take so much more of this subterfuge. It was rare for her to raise her voice and react in this way.
The two sisters exchanged a look, one trying to decide whether to spill the beans and the other silently imploring her not to.
Charlotte closed her eyes, as if this made the betrayal easier. ‘They’ve been looking at websites that talk about anorexia and eating disorders.’
Freya let out a sigh of relief as she swept her palm over Lexi’s flustered brow. ‘Well, that’s nothing to hide or feel worried about and there’s certainly no need to be so secretive. I think it’s good that you look to resources for help and advice, you silly thing, no need for tears!’
‘It’s more than that, Mum,’ Charlotte continued.
‘In what way?’
‘It’s a community called Pro Ana, or just Ana – they are often pro anorexia; they support an anorexic lifestyle.’
‘Lifestyle?’ Lockie balked. ‘It’s not a bloody lifestyle; it’s an illness!’
‘You don’t understand!’ Lexi shrieked. ‘They help me! I thought I was the only one who felt like this, I thought I was a freak, but I’m not. There are lots of people like me, and knowing that helps, and being able to talk to them helps even more. No one understands what this is like for me unless you have lived it, and the people I meet on here do. They get it.’ She clutched the computer even tighter.
Lockie stared at his wife. ‘No, she’s right, I don’t understand! Am I supposed to accept that she wants to talk to some strangers that she has never met on these unfathomable sites, but not us? I wish someone would explain to me what the hell is going on here.’
‘I think we all just need to calm down!’ Freya patted the air. ‘Lockie, let’s you and I go downstairs and let everyone just catch their breath. Lexi, we don’t want to make you anxious, we are just trying to understand.’ She nodded at her youngest, who visibly cowered on the bed. ‘And Charlotte, any insight you can offer would be a good thing.’
Charlotte nodded and left, as if keen to escape and avoid her sister’s scowl.
Freya crept from the room and down the stairs. Taking her seat at the table, she flipped open her laptop. Lockie sat next to her, having gone via the fridge for another bottle of white, the veneer of happiness provided by the previous bottle now well and truly gone. He poured two glasses and sat back.
Freya typed ‘Pro Ana websites’ into the search engine and watched as a list of sites popped up in front of her. “Thinspiration”, “Thin secrets”,’ she read aloud, ‘“Ana diets”, “Ana tips”, “Hiding Ana” . . .’ She clicked on a site, a blog.
Lockie put his glasses on and leant forward, resting his chin on his fist, his elbow propped on the table.
They both read in silence.
Freya reached for the glass of wine and drank quickly.
‘“How to manage on one hundred and sixty calories a day”,’ she quoted. ‘“Sip water frequently, drink a pint before each meal, cut your food into tiny pieces.”’ She looked at her husband, who was reading by her side. ‘This is advice on how to eat less, how to stay thin.’
‘One hundred and sixty calories a day? Surely these sites must be illegal?’ Lockie looked as stunned as he did saddened. ‘I mean, these girls are already vulnerable, and you are telling me this is available at the touch of a button?’ He shook his head.
She was equally shocked.
‘They are probably not committing any crime, and if they are, there are so many of them, I don’t know how you’d keep on top of them. Look: pages and pages.’
‘I told you he was a weirdo.’ Charlotte’s voice drew them as she sloped in in her pyjamas.
‘If you had been a bit more specific and not simply generalising over his weirdness, we might have paid a bit more attention!’ Lockie growled.
‘I didn’t know any specifics!’ she barked in defence. ‘All I heard is what Tara told me – that they started talking in some chat room about self-harming and eating disorders and stuff and that’s how they met. I don’t know how true it is.’
‘Self-harming? When did you hear this?’ Freya turned to her.
‘After they were already mates, after he’d been here a couple of times.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about this, give us a pointer.’ She turned back to the harrowing phrases that leapt from the screen.
‘I didn’t want you to worry any more than you already are, I didn’t know how much of it was true.’ Charlotte raised her voice. ‘This is not my fault!’
‘We are not saying it’s your fault,’ Lockie began.
‘That’s what it feels like,’ sh
e interrupted. ‘I’m sick of it! Everyone rushes around doing what’s best for Lexi, but try being me. Everyone at school wants to talk about it and if they don’t ask outright, they stare at me. And it’s nothing to do with me! And now you’re having a go at me!’
‘We are not having a go at you,’ he continued. ‘We are trying to figure out what to do for the best and it’s like walking barefoot, surrounded by broken glass, one false move and . . .’ Removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. ‘We are not saying spy on your sister, of course not. Lexi is not your responsibility. But if you do hear or see anything, I would ask that you tell us, so we can’ – he swallowed the catch in his voice – ‘we can help her.’
‘I thought things were so much better.’ Freya stared at the screen.
‘They are better, she’s put on weight,’ her husband reminded her.
Freya nodded. ‘I thought we were out of the woods; now I’m not so sure.’
‘That boy is not coming back in this house,’ he announced.
‘You can’t stop them being friends, you can’t be at school with her or monitor how she chats online,’ Charlotte reminded him.
‘No, you’re right, I can’t stop them, but I can assure you he will not be setting foot in my house again, and I will do everything in my power to keep him away from my daughter. My instinct is screaming that the doctor, the literature, these websites, even the way you indulge her, Freya – it is all pushing her into a corner, giving her this banner, this movement to hide behind, when all she probably needs is a bit of TLC and time to grow up.’
‘You think I don’t give her TLC?’ Freya asked, stung.
‘No, of course not, I know you do! I’m simply suggesting that everyone has to stop taking this so personally!’ He drained his wine glass.
‘I’m her mother. How exactly do you suggest I do that?’ She watched him look towards the ceiling, struggling for a reply.
The whole house was in darkness when Freya crept from her bed and across the landing; she wanted to look in on Lexi. The bedroom door creaked and her daughter roused, throwing her arm over her head and letting out a small moan in the disturbed air of her room.
‘Shh. It’s only me, darling, I’m just checking on you.’
The Food of Love Page 13
