The Food of Love

by Amanda Prowse

  Freya didn’t comment on his understatement, knowing that it was hard to give your best when you were falling apart; and that was what it felt like. Larchcombe House was not only depressing, it was soul destroying.

  ‘But Charlotte’s going to need a lot more support during her exams, isn’t she?’ Diana asked.

  Freya bit her lip, reminding herself to be patient and that it was her own stress and fatigue that made her want to scream.

  It wasn’t Diana’s fault.

  ‘We know she will,’ she managed. ‘We really are doing all we can to keep both girls in a good place, but it’s tough, Diana, we are emotionally and physically spent.’

  ‘Well, shall I come and stay? Help out, I mean? I’m no Freya in the kitchen, but I can keep an eye on Charlotte . . .’

  Only someone who knew Freya as well as Lockie did would have noticed the almost imperceptible clench of her jaw, as if she felt she were being judged in some way, the suggestion being that she couldn’t cope.

  ‘That’s really kind, Mum, but we’ll manage. Please try not to worry about us. And if we need you here, we promise to shout.’ He smiled.

  ‘How are you working if you are both at the hospital, or whatever that place is, every day?’ Again she pushed; it was like she had been briefed on the worst possible topics of conversation.

  ‘We’re not. Not really.’ Lockie sighed.

  ‘Well, how are you earning money?’ Diana stared at her son, quite perplexed.

  ‘Again, the simple answer is we are not. We are living off our credit cards, which I worry about between three and three-fifteen in the morning, and only because the other twenty-three hours and forty-five minutes are spent thinking about Lexi, Charlotte and Freya, and not always in that order.’ He forced a laugh.

  ‘Why didn’t you say something? I might not be able to help in other ways, but I can ease your financial burden. It’s all yours anyway – there’s not a lot of cash, everything is tied up in the house, but it makes no odds to me when you have it. Would it help if I transferred some money over to you now?’

  Lockie placed his hand over his eyes, trying to hide his tears. ‘It . . . it would help a lot,’ he managed.

  ‘Well, that’s that, then! I’ll do it first thing in the morning.’

  Diana smiled at her and Freya smiled back, mouthing Thank you to the kind woman who was her family.

  Diana’s concern over Charlotte filled Freya’s mind; it was just before bedtime that Freya knocked on her girl’s bedroom door.

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’ she asked as she popped her head around the door frame.

  ‘Nope.’

  Charlotte sat up on her bed and placed her notebook face down on top of her duvet.

  ‘It was nice to see Gran, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Charlotte nodded.

  Freya tested the water. ‘She said she thought you were a little quiet.’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘I guess. I’m worried about my exams and when I’m not talking I’m revising in my head.’

  ‘My clever girl.’ She smiled. ‘I know we’re neglecting you a bit. It feels like all our focus has to be on Lex because she’s poorly and you are so capable and kind. You never complain, but I’m worried I’ve been taking advantage of that nice nature, worried that you feel you can’t say if anything is bothering you, like you can’t speak out.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum, don’t worry.’ She avoided her mother’s eyeline.

  ‘Ah, but I do worry, that’s the biggest part of my job.’

  ‘I heard what Dad said to Gran about me visiting Lexi, how horrible it was in there.’

  Freya nodded. There was no denying it.

  ‘I know I should go and visit her more, but . . .’

  ‘But what, love?’ Freya wanted her to open up.

  ‘I feel horrible saying it, Mum.’

  ‘You can say anything to me,’ she urged, bracing herself for whatever verbal arrows were about to be fired.

  Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but it was a while before she found the courage. ‘I quite like it here without Lexi. It’s more peaceful and I can pretend things are just like they used to be. I know that makes me sound horrible. But that’s the truth.’

  Freya indeed felt the sharp bite of her daughter’s words, knowing that in her expression lay a kernel of unpalatable truth for them all.

  ‘And also, Mum, I’m scared to go and visit her.’ Charlotte picked at a loose thread on her duvet.

  ‘Why, darling?’

  ‘I always think . . .’

  ‘Always think what?’ Freya pushed.

  ‘That it might be the last time I see her, and I worry that I might lose it and tell her that, or go nuts or something.’

  Freya sat on the mattress and wrapped her arms around her girl, feeling the solidity of her beneath her palms: her muscle, her comfortable contours, the thin layers of fat on her beautiful body. She held her in silence, not wanting to admit to often feeling the same.

  Call it instinct, but as Lockie parked the car outside Larchcombe and Freya climbed from the passenger seat, she had a feeling in her gut that something had happened. Pressing the doorbell with a sense of urgency, she bit her bottom lip.

  ‘You okay?’ Lockie bent his head to look into her eyes.

  ‘I don’t know. I feel . . .’ She scanned her racing thoughts to find the words.

  The door opened before she had a chance to speak.

  ‘Good morning, Braithwaites!’ Jenny smiled at them. Her friendly demeanour went some way to calming Freya’s nerves, who figured that anything bad would have warranted a more sober greeting.

  ‘Someone is very keen to see you today.’ Jenny smiled again as they followed her along that darned corridor.

  Stopping at the common area, Jenny indicated Lexi, a lone figure at the table. She had brushed her thin hair and had fastened it with a loose plait. Her skin looked a little less ashen, and there were the beginnings of a smile on her lips. The changes were subtle, but to Freya they represented the many miles travelled over the last few weeks here in the facility.

  ‘Hey, Lexi!’ Lockie called as they approached.

  She lifted her head, her back straight, her hand steady.

  ‘How are you today?’ Freya issued her standard greeting that was usually met with a shrug, a sneer or, on better days, a whispered ‘’Kay’.

  ‘I’m coming home.’

  Her face broke into a smile, revealing her once beautiful teeth that were now dull and grotty. Not that it mattered; nothing did as much as getting her home where she belonged and to continue her journey back to a normal life.

  ‘Oh, Lex!’ Freya’s tears bloomed. ‘When?’ She reached out and gripped her hand.

  ‘Soon. But proper soon, Mum, later this week, not your soon.’ She smiled again.

  Lockie was quite overcome. ‘That is’ – he beamed – ‘the best news in the whole wide world!’

  ‘You have done so well, Lex, we are incredibly proud of you.’

  Lexi nodded with a slight blush to her cheek, indicating that for the first time in as long as Freya could recall, Lexi seemed to be a little proud of herself.

  With the window fixed and a promise from Lockie not to put a hammer through the new pane of glass, fresh flowers on her dressing table, and crisp bed linen, Lexi’s bedroom was ready for her homecoming.

  Freya took a moment, as she stood in the kitchen and looked into the fridge, suppressing the anxiety that leapt in her throat. She would never confess to the fear she felt at the prospect of feeding her family with Lexi in the house, or indeed the fear at the thought of having to feed Lexi herself.

  Whilst her three-month residence at Larchcombe House had been torturous, it had also, in hindsight, taken the burden from Freya’s shoulders. Remembering the struggle and the atmosphere fraught with tension around every mealtime . . . Freya shook her head and took a deep breath, and reminded herself that this was a day of celebration.

  The goal had always been to get her home,
and that day had arrived. Larchcombe House had given them a lifeline, but no amount of fresh white paint, bright Ikea furnishing and potted plants could hide the human misery that lurked in the air and ran down the walls.

  She noticed that the new admissions to the unit, the sicker, skinnier patients, were a new source of misery for the residents, as if their distress added a new layer of wretchedness, but also that the girls who were about to be discharged looked at them with something close to envy, realising, when faced with their former selves, just how much their bodies had changed.

  She mentioned this to Nurse Mikey. ‘It’s so sick!’ Freya shook her head.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ he reminded her. ‘That’s why they are here.’

  Lexi had put on weight; they were winning the war, but this gain came at a cost. Gone was her sparkle, her laugh and her light.

  The girl who had earned common-room privileges and had been able to sit on the sofa by the window, looking at the sky, or could wander in the garden under supervision, feeling snatches of sunlight on her wan face, was the husk of Lexi.

  Her eyes were dead, her pupils dull, and her expression never altered. She had been tube fed for six weeks and had in the last four weeks transitioned to solid food.

  Freya had daily cooed words of encouragement, but in truth there were only so many variants of how she could say You’re doing great! Keep going, Lexi, nearly there, darling! until she was as bored of uttering the words as her daughter was of hearing them.

  She had a favoured mantra, written on a piece of paper and fixed above Lexi’s bed to the wall of the shared room; it read: ‘Today is all that matters, not tomorrow or the day after that, just today, because that’s all there is . . .’

  Freya would tap it when she kissed her goodbye.

  ‘Remember, Lex, we only need to get through today. That’s how we are going to do this, one day at a time.’

  ‘Take me home, Mummy, please . . .’ she would utter with a monotone delivery, to which Freya gave a now standard one-word reply.

  ‘Soon.’

  Occasionally Lexi would snap. The worst episodes were when she growled at Freya like a wild animal, repeating how much she hated her and how this was all her fault, and another when she threw her food out of the window in the common room and was threatened with sedation.

  At these times, Freya could only plead with her to behave, trying to hint that she was powerless to stop them restraining and sedating her, and banning all visitors.

  All this was now behind them: they were travelling home! She kept looking to the backseat, taking in the fact that this journey, which she had done every day for months, was being made for the last time, and her little girl really was coming home.

  ‘I feel a bit nervous, being outside.’

  Freya smiled; even this admission felt like a breakthrough. ‘I bet, but we’ll just take baby steps, no need to rush. We will go at your pace and only when you are ready.’

  ‘What will I eat today?’ Lexi asked from the backseat of the car, her question, her preoccupation, quickly wiping away the frisson of joy Freya had felt only seconds earlier.

  ‘I’ve got your meal plan, so pretty much what you had yesterday. A small amount of protein, some dairy and vegetables. I won’t change a thing or add a thing, not until you are ready, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Lexi seemed to relax a little.

  ‘We’re home!’ Lockie shouted, as they made their way up to the kitchen.

  Charlotte was ready and waiting with arms wide open. She hugged her sister to her chest. ‘It’s been very quiet without you – bliss in fact!’

  Lexi tutted.

  Freya was grateful for the normality; their joking helped to mask the very real grain of truth in Charlotte’s words, as well as the nerves that all four of them felt.

  ‘Look what arrived for you.’

  Charlotte indicated a stunning bouquet of flowers, white lilies in full bloom, two-tone roses of pink and cream and a healthy bunch of variegated leaves. It was beautiful, and the first bouquet Lexi had ever received.

  ‘Is there a note?’ Lexi peered at the arrangement that Charlotte had placed in a glass vase.

  ‘No . . .’ Charlotte began.

  ‘In that case, I will confess they are from me!’ Lockie boomed. ‘All thanks and gratitude to be cast in my direction!’

  Charlotte ignored him. ‘Toby dropped them off and sends you his very best wishes.’

  ‘Ahh.’ Freya was touched. ‘That was so kind of him. Daddy and I did put a little bunch of flowers in your room to welcome you home, but nothing like this!’ She laughed.

  Lockie picked up a banana from the fruit bowl. ‘Hello? Toby? Please stop showing me up in this fashion!’ He placed it back in the bowl.

  The girls groaned.

  ‘It’s good to have my baby girl back.’ Freya liked this warm, happy feeling.

  ‘I’m glad to be back.’ She smiled, looking a lot like her old self.

  ‘And I want to show you something!’ Charlotte took her sister’s hand, freshly revealed from the cast that had been removed a couple of weeks before, and walked her slowly up the stairs; for all the joy of her return and the bloom to her cheeks, Lexi was still weak.

  Freya followed them.

  ‘What is it?’ Lexi was curious.

  ‘You’ll see!’ Charlotte walked ahead. She opened Lexi’s bedroom door and stood back. ‘Ta-dah!’

  She held out her arm to reveal the ‘Hello Kitty’ poster that her gran had given her for Christmas. Charlotte had popped it inside a large Ikea frame and hung it on the wall.

  ‘Told you it would look cool and retro.’ She folded her arms, pleased with her efforts.

  ‘Ahh, thank you, Charlotte!’

  ‘’S’okay.’ She kissed her sister.

  ‘Did you miss me really?’ Lexi whispered.

  ‘I did.’ She kept her eyes downcast. ‘I’ve been really scared for you.’

  It was an admission that moved Freya, as any display of affection between her kids always had done.

  ‘Me too,’ Lexi admitted, in barely more than a whisper.

  When Iris arrived the next day, Freya admired her attire, which was as unconventional as ever. She looked a picture in navy culottes, a navy-and-mustard-striped tank top over a floral shirt, and her now famous yellow shoes.

  The two women sipped coffee and chatted. Freya had a notepad open and at the ready, hoping for pearls of wisdom on advice on what to do next. Such were her nerves, her lack of confidence that she could fix things with enough love and soup, that she preferred to be instructed than have to rely on trial and error, knowing the margin for success was still small.

  ‘It feels like I have been passed the gauntlet.’

  ‘You have, in a way.’ Iris smiled. ‘And there’s no denying that the first few weeks, transitioning from an in-patient facility to home life, can be some of the hardest. She is still very frail and not out of the woods yet – you know that, don’t you?’

  Freya nodded. Yes, she knew that.

  ‘Lexi will be happy to be home, but also it’s quite normal for her to feel a bit fearful of the freedom she now has.’

  ‘She said as much,’ Freya confirmed.

  ‘Well, the fact that she can talk about how she’s feeling is not to be underestimated, that’s good. I would, however, pay particular attention to any habits that were banned at Larchcombe that she may have been considering. We need to break those habits here too; she needs to know it’s not okay to do certain things just because she is home.’

  ‘Habits like . . . ?’ Freya was a little confused.

  ‘You know the kind of thing: over-exercising, purging after food, using laxatives.’ Iris, as ever, spoke with ease about topics that conjured the most horrible images. Freya knew she was suggesting that the threat of Lexi indulging in all three was very real. They were in danger. Even this thought sent a rush of fear through her veins. She and Lockie had over the last weeks reclaimed much of the closeness that they had temporar
ily lost, Charlotte was more settled and, of course, Lexi was home. The idea that this was only transitory was one she couldn’t entertain. She kept her expression blank, nodding at Iris. The woman might be an expert in her field, but Freya was an expert on her family, and she knew things were getting better. She could feel it.

  ‘Okay.’

  Iris spoke slowly. ‘You look a little worried.’

  ‘Not worried, no.’

  ‘Okay, because I don’t want to scare you. Our mission hasn’t changed: we need to learn what Lexi needs right now to thrive, and help put it in place. If you keep her eating then you can keep her home, it’s as simple as that.’

  Tiptoeing into the TV room, she watched the girls sitting side by side on the sofa, laughing at The Big Bang Theory. It felt good to see them so relaxed.

  ‘Supper in five minutes!’

  ‘Can we eat it on our laps?’ Lexi looked up hopefully.

  ‘No, darling, all around the table please. It’s nice to all sit together, as a family. Plus I don’t want food spilled in here.’

  Lexi curled her lip. Freya was glad she didn’t push further, each of them knowing the real reason: that she needed to be supervised during mealtimes and immediately afterwards.

  No one commented on how small Lexi cut her food. The strip of chicken, strand of broccoli, and her single roast potato were reduced to pea-sized lumps, easy to swallow and hard to taste. They also failed to mention the never-empty glass of water that was always within reach, helping her wash the food down into a stomach no longer so averse to nutrition.

  She and Lockie worked hard to keep the conversation flowing, averting their eyes, distracting with tales of the mundane, informing how the tubs were coming along in the courtyard and the fact that they hadn’t seen the Rendletons for a while. Anything other than sit and stare at each mouthful that passed Lexi’s lips. Willing her to keep going and hoping that she kept it down.

  Over the next few weeks, Charlotte’s exams got under way, and Lexi even mentioned going into school. She and Lockie seemed to be on the same page, and the house had a glorious air of normality about it. The money that Diana had gifted them nestled in an account, which meant that, for the first time in an age, she and Lockie slept without worrying where their next commission was coming from. She had to admit it was a wonderful feeling. Not that they had ever suffered; bills had always been met, eventually, and Christmas and birthdays were celebrated in certain style, but this was the first time in their lives that they had what they termed ‘spare cash’. Not a huge amount, but enough that they could relax a little.