Thin Girls Don't Eat Cake (4 page)

“I needed to, um, de-stress. Things have been a bit overwhelming of late. I thought hypnotism might help.”

“Well, thank the holy father for that,” Mrs Tanner said. “If you’d told me it was one of those crazy weight loss things I would have rung your mother. But you shouldn’t mess around with things like that. It’s dangerous.”

And this, coming from the woman who’d been known to hold Friday night séances in her living room. It was well known that Mrs Tanner had tried to convince Jim the Butcher his long dead mother was telling him to get rid of his wife on more than on occasion.

“I’ll remember that, Mrs Tanner. Thank you.”

“And you’ll let me give you a quick check over?” the ambulance girl asked. “You do look a bit peaky.”

Possibly from the shock of having my front door destroyed by a fire axe.

“Sure. Go ahead.” With a resigned sigh, I flopped onto the chair beside the counter. I mean, she’d practically been pleading. I had no choice. Besides, everyone knew the only time she got to hone her skills was after local drunk Bert had a few too many and stumbled into the rose bushes outside the council offices on his way up the hill. So when you thought about it, I was doing the community a favour.

*****

Later that afternoon, after three consoling cupcakes with strawberry icing, I answered a call from Mum.

“Was the shop on fire today?”

“Hello Mum.”

I’d been waiting for this. In a tiny town like Merrifield you couldn’t scratch your bottom without someone reporting it to your family. It was entirely possible that my mother had known I’d lost my virginity before I did, the grapevine worked so fast.

“Why were the fire department, the police and the ambulance at the shop? Elaine Tanner said they were blocking the entire road. Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right, I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Don’t be facetious, Olivia. I am your mother. I’m merely ringing to enquire what happened, not to get some smart remark thrown back at me. I don’t know how this happened. You had such beautiful manners as a child. Now all you do is answer back. It’s no wonder you can’t find a boyfriend.”

God help me.

“Sorry Mum.”

“Thank you. Now please explain what happened at the shop. You know Elaine’s prone to exaggeration.”

“I fell asleep.”

“Pardon me?” Mum’s voice was a mixture of bemusement and annoyance.

“I was testing out a self-hypnosis app and it made me fall asleep.”

“Well, of course it did, you silly girl. That’s what hypnosis is for. Sometimes I wonder where you keep your brains.”

“I didn’t fall asleep on purpose.”

“Maybe so but the whole town’s talking. Maggie was worried you had some sort of drug problem. She thought we were going to have to do an intervention.”

The only problem I had right then was the busybodies in my neighbourhood.

“I think perhaps Maggie should stop watching so much TV.”

“I did suggest that but she was rather convincing. She said you eat at least five peppermint slices a day. She thought you had the ‘munchies’.”

I stifled a giggle. Did people even call it that anymore?

“I don’t have a drug problem, Mum. Mrs Tanner overreacted when I didn’t answer the door, that’s all. You can ask the ambulance guys if you want. They checked me over. I’m perfectly fine. Or I could pop over to the police station for a drug test if that will appease you.”

“Olivia.”

“I’m okay. Honestly.”

“Good. Because I wanted to tell you I’m going to have to cancel dinner tonight.”

Again?

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m trying out a new course. If I sign up, it’s every Thursday for ten weeks.”

“But Thursday’s mother-daughter bonding night.”

Ever since I arrived back in Merrifield, I’d eaten dinner with Mum on a Thursday evening. We never missed unless one of us was ill, and that was rare. Now, she was cancelling two weeks in a row. It was enough to make one feel somewhat unloved.

“Yes and this is yoga,” Mum clarified. “Kama Sutra yoga.”

A hysterical splutter stuck in my mouth. “Are you serious?”

The thought of Mum bending herself into sexual positions on a yoga mat was a tad over the top. I wondered if it required a partner? The Kama Sutra did. At least, I supposed it did. I’d never actually read it. Or looked at the pictures.

“Perfectly. It’s very good for flexibility, or so I’m told.”

I let out a weary sigh. “How about tomorrow night, then? I’ve got nothing on.”

“Lovely. The pub?”

“Sure. And be careful, Mum. I don’t want you tearing muscles.”

“I’m not the one who hasn’t exercised this millennium, possum.”

I smiled at that. It was true. Exercise and I had not been friends for a good few years now. Not since I’d come back from the city at any rate.

“Bye, Mum. Kisses.”

“Kisses. And don’t go hypnotising yourself again. Such a ridiculous idea.”

Almost as ridiculous as eating a fourth cupcake before bed.

The silver-grey four-wheel drive swung into the gravelled parking area at the front of Oak Hill House, sending pebbles flying as it came to a halt and scattering a flock of wild ducks that were making their way to the pond in the front garden. Pulling his keys from the ignition, Cole Anderson opened the door and slipped them into his pocket before heading up the path towards the house. He paused for a second to admire his surroundings. This house had been a real find — a traditional stone farmhouse with ten acres of land, French doors along the front facade, wide verandas and it was convict built. It was the type of house he’d always dreamed of owning and now he did. It was a pity such sad circumstances had been the catalyst for the purchase.

Along the drive behind him, Adelaide appeared from under the canopy of the hundred-year-old willow tree. Lulu, barking animatedly at the ducks as they landed on the lawn, ran up the gravel to greet him, her tail wagging eagerly.

“There you are,” Adelaide said, her perfect white teeth revealed in a broad, friendly smile.

Wrapping an arm round her shoulder, Cole gave Adelaide a pinch right on the top of her arm. “Hey, sis.”

“Ouch. Cole. That hurt.”

“That’s what you get for leaving me alone with the electrician. Bloody bloke almost talked my ear off. Is the photographer here yet?”

“Yes. Mum’s beginning to panic. You know how she abhors tardiness.”

Did he ever. Since Cole was a boy, it had been instilled into him that punctuality was the epitome of manners. Ella Anderson was never late. She’d be having kittens right about now. Cole glanced at his watch. “Let’s get this thing done then. I bloody hate photos. Smiling makes my face ache.”

“A time will come when it won’t.”

“Can’t see it being in the near future.”

“We don’t have to do this if you feel that strongly. It was a prize. It’s not like we’re paying for it. We can send the photographer away.”

Letting her go, Cole jogged up the path toward the house, indulging Lulu in a game of chasey as he went. “No. We can’t cancel it. Phoebe would never forgive me. Besides, it’s about new beginnings, isn’t it? A new life, a new home and new family photos to mark the occasion.”

Agreeing, Adelaide followed him up the front steps and into the house.

Ella Anderson stood as Cole and Adelaide entered the room. Smoothing her short white hair, styled especially for the day, she bustled towards them. “There you are.”

“Sorry I’m late. The electrician had a harder time with the oven than we thought,” Cole replied, kissing his mother’s line free cheek.

She was an amazing old bird. God knows what he would have done without her after Phoebe died. She’d done everything she could to help him move on, even though it was hard on her too. And now here she was — with the help of his sister — getting him set up a new home. Cole knew full well they both had plenty of other things they could be doing. One day he’d repay them. He didn’t know how, but he would.

“Do I have time for a shower?” he asked his mother. He felt as if he’d been playing in dirt the entire morning, which had been fine when he was seven but wasn’t a good look for a grown man. Especially one who had to have a family portrait.

“The photographer’s already running late. Give your face a wash, there’s a bit of something on it. And, put this on.” A crisp t-white shirt flew in Cole’s direction, landing on his head.

“Gee thanks.”

Cole put the shirt between his knees and pulled the dirty one he was wearing over his head, tossing it in his mother’s direction. A cloud of dust from his hair flew into the air around him.

“Won’t be a sec,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Two minutes.” Ella tutt-tutted.

“No problem. Not that you can start without me.”

“It would have been far easier if we had.”

Up in the bathroom, Cole took in his dishevelled appearance in the mirror as he waited for the sink to fill with warm water. A quick sniff under his armpits confirmed that he reeked and he wondered if he had time to wash his armpits too. Not that it would make any difference to the photo, of course. But it would make him feel cleaner and it’d only take a few seconds. Better to smell of soap than the stench of god knows how many years of grime.

Turning off the taps, Cole peeled the fresh t-shirt off, hanging it carefully over the towel rail. He bent into the basin and sluiced water over his face. He squirted a blob of liquid soap into his hand and lathered it up, giving his neck, face and ears a good scrub, finishing with his under arms.

That felt better. At least he could go into the shoot feeling a modicum of cleanliness.

The photo thing had been Phoebe’s idea. She’d won the voucher in a competition the Christmas before last but with everything that had happened, there’d been no time or even an appropriate moment to organise it so it had been pushed aside. In fact, he’d completely forgotten about it until Adelaide mentioned it last month. Then he remembered he’d promised Phoebe it would go ahead, even if she wasn’t around. He’d also promised he’d have her Photoshopped into the background of the picture, like some ghostly apparition. He’d made a lot of promises during the last few months of her life, but that was one he wasn’t sure he was going to keep — his twelve-year-old daughter flying through the family portrait dressed in a kitsch angel costume. Though he had to admit it would be a talking point when visitors came.

Drying his face and tidying his hair with his fingers, a memory of Phoebe during her last days suddenly filled the small room around him. It was like she was standing in front of him, her eyes — a carbon copy of Adelaide’s — scolding him for being sad, for wanting to spend every second of her last days at the hospital, for forgetting how to have fun.

“Haven’t you got something better to do, Daddy? Hospitals are so boring. And the sun is shining outside.”

Cole had perched himself at the head of the bed. His hand had stroked the baby hairs that were beginning to grow on her naked scalp, left bald from the treatment. “I’d rather be here with you.”

“I hope you’re not going to be one of those mopey-pants parents when I’m dead,” she whispered, attempting to smile. “You have to live your life. Have another daughter. Of course, I’ll still be the most important one and the prettiest, but you should get another one.”

“Phoebe.”

She was ill but that didn’t mean he couldn’t chastise her.

“I mean it. Just because I’ll be gone doesn’t mean you get out of your promises. You have to meet a nice lady and have another baby; you have to open a cupcake shop. If you don’t do it, I’ll never speak to you again. Which is silly because I’ll be dead, but I won’t even speak to you in your dreams.”

“Don’t talk like that, Phoebs. You’re not going to die.”

Phoebe had reached across the bleached white sheet of the hospital bed. Her hand, as transparent as a dying autumn leaf, had come to rest on his knee. “It’s time to face facts, Daddy. We’ve been pussyfooting around it for days now. I’m over it. Let’s say the words. I’m going to die.”

“But the new treatment?”

“It won’t work. You know it won’t. Besides, I’m ready. I don’t mind dying. This life is too hard.”

Cole had almost lost it then. His lip had wobbled like it had when he’d broken his arm as a boy but he’d held it in. She was only a kid, just a little girl, his little girl.

“I want you to be happy. Have a nice life, fulfil our dreams. Promise.”

Cole had swallowed. “And you think cooking cupcakes for a living will make me happy?”

  “Nobody in the whole wide world makes better cupcakes than you, Daddy. Open a shop. It’ll be a goldmine. I know it will. Promise me you’ll do it.”

“I promise.”

“And I want you to get the family portrait done and put me up in the sky like an angel looking over you all.”

Leaning across the bed, Cole placed a tender kiss on Phoebe’s pale brow. “I love you, Phoebs.”

“You too, Daddy. And when I’m a star, look out for me, cause I’ll be winking right at you every night.”

Cole had watched as Phoebe’s eyes had closed and she sank into slumber. She looked peaceful and he was reminded of those nights he’d sat by her bed when she was little, watching her sleep. Only this time, she wasn’t going to wake up.

Now, nearly a year down the track, Cole was attempting to do as Phoebe had asked. The kid had always had an eye for seeing outside the square and even at twelve, she’d possessed a business brain that rivalled his own. Still, as he went down the hall to greet the photographer and sit posing for a family photo that had the most important person in the family floating in the sky like an angel, he had to concede that possibly his daughter had been mad and he was even madder for listening to her advice.