‘How do I look?’ Lexi smiled in her direction, pulling the hem of her hoodie down over the flattened bottom of her super-skinny jeans. Her Doc Martens hung on the end of her spindly legs.
‘You look lovely,’ Freya lied, rewarded by her daughter’s grin as she stacked the dishwasher. The scent of Lexi’s perfume, liberally applied, filled the kitchen.
‘You’ll be pleased to hear that I haven’t made any cakes and Dad has been given strict instructions not to be himself. I promise we will be very well behaved.’ She smiled.
Lexi sighed. ‘Even you saying that makes me feel nervous, like you’re not going to be yourselves.’
‘I thought you didn’t want us to be ourselves!’ Freya was genuinely a little confused.
‘I don’t! Well, I do . . . I want you to be the nice bits of yourself, but not the loony bits. You can be nice and friendly, but no singing or mucking about or talking to the cat – and absolutely no kissing Dad!’
‘Yuck!’ Freya pulled a face in mock horror. ‘As if!’
She caught the minty tones of mouthwash when Lexi spoke, only just discernible above her heady perfume.
Lexi continued, undeterred. ‘I’d like you to be more like Fennella’s parents, just for today.’
Freya pictured the dour, sober, tweed-skirt-wearing woman and her joyless husband who had once managed to hold them captive at a barbecue for nearly two hours with their detailed recollection of a weekend spent on a narrow boat near Solihull and the various locks they had encountered en route.
‘I’ll do my very best.’ She nodded.
Lexi’s face broke into a smile. This was obviously important to her.
‘You do look lovely, by the way.’
‘I don’t.’ Lexi kicked her Doc Marten against the wooden floor. ‘I wish I was pretty, like Charlotte.’
‘Lexi?’ Freya walked over to her and looked her daughter in the eye. ‘You are so beautiful! Don’t ever doubt that. You are the kindest, sweetest person and that lights you up from within. You have no idea how very beautiful you are, inside and out.’
Lexi sat, preoccupied by her phone, reading, scrolling and texting with lightning speed.
‘Bit nervous, Lex?’ Lockie asked, as he clicked the kettle to boil, still none the wiser when it came to operating the coffee machine.
She nodded. ‘A bit.’
‘If you want me to come and pick you up in the car, just shout, even if it’s after five minutes. Only you know how you feel. I’m doing nothing other than sitting here, reading and waiting for your call, whilst making out not to be waiting for your call. Okay?’
She nodded.
‘Is your phone fully charged?’ he asked.
‘Dad! I used to go out all the time! I thought Fennella might have forgotten about me, but she hasn’t. She asked me out and so I’m going. I’m fine and if I need you, I’ll call you. I promise.’ She rolled her eyes. Her reprimand and irritation were so gloriously normal and teenage-like, Lockie looked close to tears.
‘I can’t help it, Lex. You will always be my little girl. And no matter how old you get . . .’ He swallowed. ‘I will worry about you just the same.’
Lexi stared at his tear-filled eyes. It was a second before she spoke. ‘If you dare cry in front of Fennella or say anything that mushy, I will actually kill you!’ She sighed again.
Lockie’s roar of laughter filled the kitchen, as Freya reached for the basket full of clean laundry waiting to be folded. She too laughed, happy to be part of the joke.
‘Our daughter has just put me firmly in my place,’ he announced.
‘That’s my girl!’ Freya winked.
The doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it!’ Charlotte called from the TV room downstairs, where she was ensconced on the sofa with Milly and Tara watching Game of Thrones from under duvets, shovelling popcorn and giggling though the sex scenes.
Fennella appeared in the kitchen in all her glossy, blonde, breathless glory. Freya couldn’t help but stare at the natural bloom to her rounded cheeks, her thick, healthy hair, her white, white teeth in their pink gums, her sparkling eyes and full bust, the perfect symmetry to her high, pert bottom. She felt a twinge of envy for this girl’s parents, wondering how things had turned out so very different for Lexi.
‘Lovely to see you, Fennella.’ She smiled.
‘Oh my God! Lex! You look amazing!’ The girl enthusiastically embraced her friend before standing back to get a better look at her. ‘Seriously, Lex, you look brilliant.’ She shook her head.
Freya was confused at first, wondering if Fennella had been instructed to be kind and was simply overplaying her part. She was more than a little concerned with the way Fennella viewed Lexi’s emaciated frame with something close to admiration, as though being this skinny were in itself an achievement.
She tried to catch Lockie’s eye, nervous of the girl’s reaction.
‘I don’t think so.’ Lexi looked at the floor.
‘But you do!’ Fennella emphasised, linking her arm through her friend’s.
‘How’s Mum and Dad?’ Lockie asked, seemingly unaffected.
‘Good, thank you.’ Her voice was saccharine sweet with practised manners. ‘They are on a boating holiday. My nan is looking after me.’
‘Oh, where have they gone? Somewhere nice? Solihull?’ Lockie avoided his wife’s knowing look.
‘Solihull? No, they’re in Northampton.’ Fennella looked confused.
‘Oh, smashing. Northampton.’ He beamed at his wife.
‘Come on, Lex. We’ve got so much to talk about.’ She pulled Lexi towards the door.
‘Have fun!’ Freya called after them, listening to the sweet sound of their girlish babble, interspersed with giggles, floating up the stairs. It would have been hard to explain to anyone not in this situation just how incredible it was to be experiencing this normality. It was like any other Saturday, the thousands they had spent before anorexia pecked at their child, pulling her into its clutches. Freya decided not to dilute the happy atmosphere with her concerns.
‘This is a good day.’ She smiled at her husband, who nodded in agreement.
‘It really is.’
Freya eyed the clock. The girls had been gone for an hour, and she had started to relax. Pulling out her laptop, she constructed an email to Marcia.
Hey Boss, good news and bad news. Good news: I think we have turned a corner, which means I am back in work mode. Bad news: I shall be badgering you for an assignment. Speak Monday? Much love, F x
‘What are you looking so smug about?’ Lockie walked up behind her and lifted her hair; he kissed the nape of her neck.
‘I don’t know.’ She let her head hang forward, enjoying the touch of his lips against her skin. ‘I guess I’m just happy!’
‘Well, amen to that.’ He smiled. ‘How long do you think we’ve got before Lexi gets back?’ He ran his hands down the sides of her waist as she lifted her arms, running her fingers through his thick hair.
‘I’m not sure,’ she whispered. ‘But Charlotte and her mates are downstairs,’ she reminded him.
‘It’s not like they’re going to move from the sofa anytime soon. They have popcorn, duvets and men fighting naked from the chest up – they’re all set. Why don’t we take advantage of this lull in proceedings and nip upstairs?’ He kissed her once again.
Freya turned in her seat and returned his kiss on the mouth, their ardour building.
‘I suppose we could . . .’ She giggled.
‘Come on! We need to strike while the iron is hot, as they say!’ He nodded his head towards the stairs.
Freya placed her finger on her lips, as if deep in concentration. ‘Just give me a second. I’m trying to think what Fennella’s parents would do in this situation. After all, we do need to be more like them.’
‘They would definitely go upstairs and have quick but satisfying sex.’ He pulled a very innocent face.
‘I’m not so sure . . .’ She flicked her hair.
&nb
sp; ‘Hang on a minute!’ Lockie ran over to the fruit bowl and picked up a banana, holding it to his ear.
‘Oh, hello, Mr Fenackerpants . . . What’s that? . . . You heartily recommend making the most of this short window of time alone with my beautiful wife? Okay, then!’
He put the banana back in the bowl and grabbed the hand of his giggling spouse.
It was with exquisite timing that as she stood, Lockie’s phone rang.
‘If it’s anyone other than Lexi I’m ignoring it,’ he stated, grabbing at the phone. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, as he swiped the screen.
‘Yes, darling?’
His expression changed instantly to one of concern. Highly agitated, he stood tall, placing his hand on his hip.
Freya felt the joy drain from their day.
‘Okay! Just calm down, Lex, calm down, darling. I’m on my way. Where are you exactly?’
He turned his head to the side and cupped his hand over his ear.
‘I can hardly hear you, Lex . . . Don’t cry, darling, please don’t cry! I am on my way. Just tell me where you are.’
Freya’s pulse quickened. She grabbed the car keys and stood inches from him, waiting to see where they were headed and desperate to know what had happened.
‘Right . . . Don’t move, Lex! Stay right where you are! We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.’
He ended the call and stared at Freya. She felt her stomach knot.
‘What’s happened?’ She hardly dared to ask.
‘I’m not really sure.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s outside Costa near the clock tower, she’s very upset. I couldn’t really make out what she was saying. I don’t know if I’ll be able to park . . .’ He pondered the practicalities.
‘That’s okay. Get as close as you can, I’ll jump out and get her. Is she hurt or just upset?’ She tried to figure out the problem, still concerned with so little to go on and running instantly into rescue mode.
‘I don’t know!’ Lockie repeated.
‘Mum?’ Charlotte called from the ground floor.
Freya thundered down the stairs behind Lockie. ‘Not now, darling, we’re off to grab Lexi, she’s just called Dad and is a bit upset.’ She nodded towards the door of the TV room, not wanting to give the limited details she had in front of Milly and Tara.
‘Will you listen to me?’ she shouted. Freya turned to face her, embarrassed to be having this altercation in front of Charlotte’s friends.
‘I just wanted to show you this!’ Charlotte handed her mum an unfamiliar phone. ‘Tara just got a Facebook alert. She’s in a group because Fennella’s brother is her friend and this just came through.’
Freya stared at the image, unable to make it out instantly. Pulling the screen away from her face, she saw that it was the back of Lexi’s legs, the picture taken as her daughter bent over. It clearly showed the flattened panel where her bottom used to live, and the wide gap between the top of her fleshless thighs. It shared the screen with another image: the back of a starved donkey, whose emaciated flank showed the bones and whose skinny legs hung down with flies nestling on the matted fur. Someone had written the caption:
Skinny donkey butt! Thigh gap!
There were then a number of comments and emojis growing beneath.
Gross.
LOL!
PMSL. Donkey butt eeeeaauw eeeeaauw !!
Who ate all the pies – not her!
Still the phone continued to ping and the comments grew.
#Thinspiration
Disgusting!
Get some meat on her bones. Who her family?
#NOTNICESHEDAMSKINNY!
‘What on earth . . . ?’ Freya looked at Charlotte, whose expression was nothing short of horrified.
Charlotte took the phone from her. It continued to ping with updates, more shares, more likes, more people seeing and commenting on the vile post.
‘There are other pictures, Mum. Worse than that.’
‘Sweet Jesus!’ Lockie commented, then threw open the front door and ran to the car.
Freya had to sprint to keep up.
‘Come on! Come on!’ He impatiently smacked the steering wheel at every red light, revving the tired engine and leaning forward, as if this might give them the edge of speed.
‘When I find out who did this . . .’ He let his words hang in the air.
‘I can’t believe it would be one of her friends.’
She shook her head: that idea was simply too awful to contemplate.
The traffic thinned and Lockie broke all speed limits, caring little for the consequences, intent only on getting to his daughter in the quickest possible time.
‘There she is! Outside Zizzi’s!’ Freya shouted, pointing to the busy cobbled pavement on this Saturday afternoon.
He slowed the car, indicating and braking at the same time, slowing enough for Freya to jump out as he whacked on the hazards on the double yellow line and waited.
Freya ran across the road and into the crowd with her arms outstretched, calling her little girl’s name as she ran.
‘Lexi! It’s okay! Lexi! It’s okay now!’
As she drew nearer, her daughter turned her head in the direction of her mum. She had been crying. Her carefully applied make-up was smeared across her face. She closed her eyes in slow blinks and stumbled into her mum’s arms.
With her arm across her shoulder, Freya pulled her child towards her, ignoring the stares they drew as she shepherded her across the road and into the safety of the back of the car, where they sat closely together.
‘Are you okay?’ Lockie asked.
‘She’s fine,’ Freya answered sharply on their daughter’s behalf.
Lexi sat in silence, staring out of the window.
Lockie drove home carefully, all urgency now gone, stealing glances at his daughter in the rear-view mirror. Freya twisted her body and stared at the face of her child. Lexi’s expression was almost blank, her eyes dead and lifeless, bottomless pools of despair that were as haunting as they were haunted.
‘We’ll soon have you home, Lex. A nice hot drink and a snuggle under the duvet and you’ll feel right as rain.’ She smiled broadly, hoping this gesture might be infectious.
Lockie visibly bristled, not only at his apparent exclusion from events, but also at the tone Freya used, belittling the event and suggesting that, like she’d merely been caught in a storm, a hot drink and a warm blanket would see her restored.
Lexi barely seemed to register her mum’s comments or her expression. It was as if she had withdrawn further, and even the thought of this sent a renewed quiver of fear through Freya’s bones.
Charlotte and her two friends provided the welcome committee around the kitchen table.
‘Are you okay?’ Charlotte asked her sister as they trod the stairs.
‘She’s fine – aren’t you, love?’ Freya rubbed the top of Lexi’s arms and answered for her.
‘She’s not fine.’ Lockie kept his tone low. Freya shot him a look.
‘That Fennella is a bitch. Everyone knows it.’ Milly offered the insight good-naturedly.
‘I can’t believe it would have been Fennella,’ Freya began. ‘She—’
‘It was Fennella.’ Lexi spoke, cutting her mum short and giving confirmation.
‘But . . .’ Freya found herself lost for words of explanation or justification; because there were none.
Lexi looked at the assembled group, as if committing them to memory. Turning slowly, she made her way from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs.
‘I don’t know why you are all so surprised,’ she said. ‘This is a horrible world, full of horrible people, and horrible people do horrible things.’ She offered this without emotion as she trod the stairs to her room.
Freya gave Lexi a chance to settle and waited until Charlotte, Milly and Tara had left for the cinema. It saddened her, waving off the three girls for a night out. Pizza and a movie: nothing too outrageous, and yet both were so out of reach for Lexi. Fre
ya could never have imagined that the highest aspiration she could have for her children was to be averagely normal, but this was exactly what she prayed for. It didn’t feel like too much to ask for – a child who ate and was able to leave the house on a Saturday night – but just at that point in time it was.
Finding the room in darkness, she switched on the lamp on Lexi’s bedside table. The window was still boarded up, waiting to be reglazed. It felt like a job of gargantuan proportions. Lexi sat propped up on the stack of pillows that supported her delicate frame, with two duvets heaped on top of her.
‘Will you eat something for me . . . even if it’s just a shake . . . something?’ Freya sat on the side of the bed.
Lexi shook her head, her face still expressionless. ‘No.’
There was something in her tone that told Freya this resistance was not going to be easy to break. She decided to try a less direct tack.
‘I thought Fennella’s behaviour today was shocking. Not nice at all.’
Lexi’s lids flickered. ‘We’re not really that close anymore, not since I haven’t been going to school. It doesn’t matter. It was a stupid dare from her new gang. I don’t care.’
‘That’s no justification, darling. That is not how you treat a friend.’ Freya decided to keep her stronger opinions to herself.
‘She’s not my friend. Toby is my friend.’
‘Toby?’ She pictured the pale boy with his weird ways.
‘Yes. I miss him.’
‘You must ask him over,’ she cooed.
‘Dad said he was banned,’ her daughter reminded her, looking up at her with desperate eyes.
‘I know. Because he was angry, and because we didn’t understand.’
Freya no longer cared about the right or wrong of the situation; she would do anything to try to give Lexi a moment of happiness. She would have to talk Lockie round. With events twisting and unfolding with each new day, it was all Freya could do not to fall over with dizziness. Right now, it was all about trying to lift her from the shell into which she had retreated and getting food into her.
The Food of Love Page 19
