3: Chocolate Box Girls: Summer's Dream (23 page)

At least now I know its name, know who is playing with
my head. The word beats through my veins like a pulse, inescapable.

Anorexia, anorexia, anorexia.

The hospital breakfast is disgusting: a slop of porridge with a crust of brown sugar on top, two slices of white toast with butter and jam. I cannot even look at it.

‘Not hungry?’ the nurse frowns. ‘You have to eat, Summer. There’s nothing of you!’

A doctor arrives and checks my breathing, my heart rate, my blood pressure, my weight. I am doing OK up until that last bit.

‘You’re underweight,’ the doctor comments. ‘Considerably so. Did you have breakfast?’

‘I didn’t like it,’ I shrug.

‘Do you often skip meals?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘And you’re in here because you passed out cold while trying to put out a fire,’ the doctor frowns, reading my notes. ‘Do you often have dizzy spells?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘Not often. Sometimes.’

‘What had you eaten yesterday?’ the doctor asks. I frown and try to think.

‘An apple, early on,’ I say. ‘An egg, some lettuce. Two bites of cake …’

The doctor scribbles some notes and leaves, and a nurse appears to tell me that Grandma Kate has been delayed. She will be in this afternoon with Mum and Paddy. ‘Can I go home then?’ I plead.

The nurse won’t meet my eye. ‘We’ll see,’ she says. I turn my face away.

A little while later the curtain twitches and a boy appears, a boy with messy hair and kind brown eyes with cartoon lashes drawn on clumsily in eyeliner. He looks slightly deranged, but hey, that’s nothing new.

‘Alfie!’ I say. ‘What’re you doing here? What’s with the lashes?’

‘Trying to make you laugh,’ he says. ‘And shhh. I’m undercover, OK? Visiting doesn’t start until two, so I sneaked in.’

The last time I saw Alfie I’d just kissed him at the beach party. A slow blush seeps through my cheeks and I scrabble
up into a sitting position, painfully aware of my hospital gown, my hair still fluffy from the pillow. I pick up my pink flower hairclip from the bedside table and slide it in.

‘Gorgeous,’ he says. ‘And the flower’s not bad either. One of my better ideas that was.’

My eyes widen, astonished, and Alfie’s cheeks flood crimson. ‘Oops,’ he says. ‘Did I just say that? I mean … very nice … whoever gave it to you. Aaron, or … well … whoever.’

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ I ask. ‘It was you all along. And you never said. You let me think Aaron left the secret present. It was the sweetest, most romantic thing he ever did, and now it turns out it wasn’t even him? Oh, Alfie …’

‘Busted,’ he shrugs. ‘What can I say? And I brought you something else …’

He places a tiny bunch of daisies on the blue waffle bedspread, the stems wrapped in damp tissue. ‘In case you want to make daisy chains,’ he grins.

‘Thanks,’ I whisper. ‘It was sweet of you to come. They’ll be letting me out soon, but … thanks.’

‘Right,’ Alfie says. ‘I walked up to Tanglewood earlier to see how you were, but it was just crazy, what with the police and the newspaper people and everything, and obviously your
gran won’t get in to see you till later now. So I thought I’d just jump on a bus and come say hi. In case you were worrying.’

‘Police?’ I echo. ‘Newspaper people? I am worrying now, Alfie. What’s happened?’

Alfie bites his lip. ‘They didn’t tell you?’ he says. ‘Right. No. They didn’t tell you, obviously. Because you’re ill in hospital with smoke inhalation and they don’t want to stress you out …’

‘Tell me what?’ I say.

‘I am a liability,’ Alfie groans. ‘I try to do the right thing, but then I just open my big mouth and put my foot in it, every single time …’

‘Alfie, tell me!’ I yell.

He goes a little pale. ‘It’s Honey,’ he says. ‘She went missing last night while the ambulance and the fire engine were there. Her passport’s gone and money’s been taken and your grandma is worried sick …’

My eyes widen. Mum and Paddy are due back any time. Will they return to find that a stable has burnt down and that one of their daughters is missing, the other in hospital? Nightmare.

‘Why would she do that?’ Alfie asks. ‘Run away?’

‘When I tried to put Humbug in the stable, Honey and Marty were in there,’ I say. ‘They’d been smoking – and, well, kissing, I think. Marty legged it and Honey chucked down her cigarette … We were arguing and didn’t notice the fire till it was too late. She went to get help, and I was trying to keep the flames down, but I went all woozy and passed out …’

‘I bet Honey blames herself,’ Alfie says.

I sigh. ‘She won’t know whether the workshop was saved, or whether I’m OK, or anything. She must be worried sick …’

Alfie settles himself in the bedside armchair. ‘She won’t get far,’ he says. ‘She can’t, can she? Where would she go?’

‘I don’t know.’

I think of the passport and my heart lurches. Surely nobody would sell an airline ticket to a fifteen-year-old? My sister is out there somewhere, a runaway … and all because of me. I pick up a daisy and pierce the stem with my thumbnail, pushing another flower through, linking the daisies together and willing my big sister to stay safe, to come home. By the time I’ve linked all of the daisies, my eyes are blurred with tears.

‘Epic fail on the cheer-up front,’ Alfie says glumly. ‘Useless, aren’t I?’

‘Not useless,’ I tell him. ‘Not useless at all.’

‘You know I’m here for you, right?’ he grins. ‘Always. Just ask, just text, I’ll be there. OK?’

The curtain flicks back and a nurse appears with a tray of food. She tries to chase Alfie away, but he says he is my cousin, then my brother, then my boyfriend, and finally the nurse takes pity on him and lets him stay. When she’s gone, he watches me pick out a single lettuce leaf and leave the rest.

‘Not hungry?’

‘Just tired,’ I sigh. ‘I feel like I haven’t slept for a month.’

‘You have to eat,’ he says, nicking a few forkfuls of pasta. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘I can’t,’ I whisper.

‘So tell someone,’ Alfie says. ‘Someone in here, someone who can help. Because I have waited a long time for you to notice me, Summer Tanberry, and I’m not about to lose you now.’

33

Alfie leaves, but before I can try to call anyone to find out what’s happened with Honey, yet another doctor, young and pretty, with shiny dark hair and bright red lipstick, comes to talk to me. ‘I’m Dr Khan,’ she tells me. ‘I specialize in working with young people with eating issues. Everyone is quite worried about you, you know.’

I bite my lip.

‘Summer, are you on a diet?’

‘Not exactly …’

‘Watching what you eat?’

I shrug.

‘Your parents have been out of the country for a while,’
she says, consulting her notes. ‘They’re coming in later to see you …’

‘I thought I was going home?’ My eyes brim with tears and the tears spill down my cheeks, on and on as if they will never stop.

‘You will,’ Dr Khan says. ‘But a few things have come up, and I’d like to talk to your grandma first, and your parents. I believe you’ve lost a lot of weight lately. I don’t think you’re eating much at all, and that’s almost certainly why you passed out last night. Your body is starving, Summer. I know you’re frightened, and I know you’re doing your best right now, but sometimes even the strongest and smartest of us need help. That’s what I’m here for.’

Don’t tell her
, the voice in my head roars.
Don’t!

And then I hear an echo of Alfie’s words, saying just the opposite. ‘Tell someone. Someone who can help.’

‘You don’t understand,’ I whisper. ‘I can’t help it. Any of it. I know it’s scaring people, but I can’t stop – I’m just trying to keep everything under control because it feels like nothing ever is! Is that so bad?’

Even as I say it, I begin to see that trying to survive on
lettuce leaves and apples won’t make me a better dancer or a better daughter. It won’t take away the stress of competing for a place at dance school or a starring role, and it cannot turn the clock back to when I was seven years old or make my dad love me as much as I want him to.

‘I do understand,’ Dr Khan says softly. ‘I understand because I’ve been there too, and I came through. You’re clever, Summer, a perfectionist, a worker, just as I was. You like to have things under control, but trust me, this isn’t the way to achieve your dreams. It can only destroy them, destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for.’

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say, the words salty with tears.

‘I do,’ Dr Khan says. ‘I can help you. I promise.’

It’s evening by the time Mum and Paddy arrive, their faces weary with jet lag and worry. Mum throws her arms round me and pulls me close.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers into my hair. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me. Oh, Summer, what have you done to yourself?’

I cling on tight, my tears making a wet patch on the shoulder of her T-shirt, breathing in her familiar smell of
coconut shampoo and love, letting her rock me, stroke my hair, hold me close.

‘It’s OK,’ I whisper over and over, like a mantra. And somehow it is.

Paddy tells me that Honey has been found, that the police tracked her down to Heathrow, where she’d tried to buy a ticket for Australia with the emergency credit card taken from the kitchen drawer. ‘She’s safe,’ he tells me, his face grim. ‘That’s something, I suppose.’

I look at the daisy chain made earlier, draped over the headboard of the hospital bed like a talisman. It is wilted now, but still, it’s a comfort.

We all talk again with Dr Khan, who asks me to come to a weekly clinic where she can help me with my fear of food. ‘Beating an eating disorder takes time,’ she tells me. ‘You need to be patient, determined. It will be hard work. But if you trust me, I can help you.’

‘What about when term starts?’ Paddy frowns. ‘She’ll be at boarding school then.’

‘No,’ Dr Khan says firmly. ‘She won’t. We have to tackle this first … Summer needs to get well.’

I wait for the pain of this to twist at my heart, but
all I feel is relief. I cannot go to Rochelle Academy right now, I know that. I wouldn’t last a week, let alone a month.

The next day I am allowed home. There is no welcome banner, no celebration cake, just wide eyes and wary looks and hugs that are so gentle they make me feel like I am made of glass and might shatter at any moment. Honey isn’t there. Mum tells me she hasn’t left her room since last night.

‘Are you all right?’ Cherry wants to know. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

I shake my head, unable to find the words. I have taken our muddled, happy family and smashed it to pieces, painted blue shadows of worry under my mum’s eyes, etched deep lines of fear into Grandma Kate’s forehead. My twin is looking at me as though I am a stranger, as though she never knew me at all, and that hurts.

‘I just want things to be normal,’ I say. ‘Carry on with your usual things. Cherry, go and see Shay. Coco, hang out with your friends. Skye, you’re supposed to be working … don’t stay home on my account, OK? Do
whatever you’d usually be doing. I’m fine, honestly … but I’m really tired …’

Mum sighs. ‘You’re right, Summer … you should probably rest.’

I go up to my room, close the door softly. I pick up a ballet CD and slot it into the player, slip on my pointe shoes and tie the ribbons carefully. I stand with one hand on the window sill, chin tilted high, arms curved, feet in first position. Then the tears come, and I slam a hand down on the CD player to stop the music, tear off the shoes. I’ve been waiting for the pain to hit and now it’s here, wave after wave of grief for a dream that will never be. I have ruined everything, sabotaged my future.

Mum will have to make awkward phone calls, talk to Miss Elise and Sylvie Rochelle. Another girl will get my scholarship place, my dream. Maybe Jodie? I hope so. At least then some good would have come from it all.

There’s a knock at the door and Honey appears, her blonde hair ruffled, eyeliner smudged. ‘We need to talk,’ she says.

We sit at opposite ends of the bed, cross-legged, the patchwork cover stretched out between us.

‘I’m an idiot,’ she begins. ‘The worst big sister since time began. I’m so sorry, Summer. I was sick with worry when I found you in the stable, and then the ambulance came and it was all my fault …’