Chapter 46

My eyes open and the delicious aroma from downstairs finds me. My pleasure is short-lived as I realise what this means.

Mom is cooking.

I will get downstairs and the kitchen counter will be filling up with plates piled high with savoury snacks; little pizzas, mini burgers, sausage rolls, pork pies, Scotch eggs, all the things I love that make my mouth water. But I won't be allowed to touch them.

My weight has been stable since my last diet. I breathe a sigh of relief every week at the weigh-in when a smile lights up her face. I get to eat, but I don't get to eat food like this.

That's not even the reason for my misery. The food preparation means we're expecting company. It will most likely be Mrs Rushton, who lives in the next street with her three sons, all named after royalty. The eldest, Henry, has a permanent sneer; the middle one, Louis, loves to rile his older brother; and baby William just follows the pack. They will instantly dive into the goodies, will be allowed to eat whatever they want, gobbling and gorging.

A portioned plate will be put aside for me before they arrive. I will nibble my meagre ration to make it last while Mom and Mrs Rushton ask questions about each other's lives.

‘Rise and shine,' Mom calls out, bursting into my room. She bustles across the floor and throws open the curtains. ‘Our visitors will be here soon and I want you to show off your new walk.' She claps her hands in delight.

The thought of having to perform for those three boys pushes away any appetite I had for the food downstairs.

I want to refuse. My mouth opens as she plucks clothes from my wardrobe and lays them on the bottom of the bed. No words come out, and the beating of my heart is deafening.

‘Quick, do as you're told, and don't let me down,' she says, heading back out of the room.

The moment is gone and my mouth closes. I hate my own weakness, but I also fear her anger.

My heart sinks even further when I see that she has chosen a pink satin and taffeta dress embroidered with flowers, with a bodice formed of pink roses which is sure to secure further torment from those boys. There's a little bolero cardigan to be slipped over the top.

I dutifully put them on after washing my face and brushing my hair.

I head downstairs, all thoughts of food now gone as I start wishing the next few hours away.

‘About time,' Mom says, sculpting foil lids over the plates of food. ‘They'll be here any?—'

A banging at the door proves her point. I don't even have to look to know the heavy knocking came from Henry.

‘Go on then – open the door,' she says, nudging me towards the hallway.

I do so without question and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I am almost ten and I look like a four-year-old going to a Disney party.

Henry laughs in my face as I open the door. His brothers follow him in and copy his ridicule.

‘Oh, ignore them; they're just stupid boys,' Mrs Rushton says, putting her arm around my shoulders. It's a strange sensation as she draws me towards her, and although alien, I don't fight it. ‘You look lovely, and they're just jealous.'

I don't believe the words; they don't even sound convincing, but I appreciate her saying it.

Mom removes the covers from the plates and invites the boys to dive in.

‘Can I have a quiche?' I ask as the boys dive into the food. Mrs Rushton's presence makes me feel brave.

‘Yours is here,' Mom says, sliding the covered plate across the table.

I remove the foil. A crustless square of bread containing a thin layer of egg mayonnaise, one mini pizza and one cocktail sausage roll. No quiche or any of the other goodies on offer to the boys. I bite back my dismay and take a seat in the corner.

‘Stop sulking,' Mom barks.

I try to hide my feelings and attempt not to compare my plate to those of the boys. I am not successful.

‘Leave it then and come and show Mrs Rushton your new walk.'

‘There's no need…'

‘Nonsense,' Mom protests, heading for the living room so that everyone else is compelled to follow. ‘She's been dying to show you.'

I haven't, but I throw all the food on my plate into my mouth and chew as I follow them to the other room. It's inevitable, and if I get it over quickly, I won't have to think about it any more.

Everyone takes a seat; my mother stands at the top of the room so she can see me clearly.

‘She's moved into a new age range so they're all new routines,' Mom explains.

I stand in place, still chewing my last mouthful. The boys are fighting over who gets the other armchair and who has to sit on the sofa. Mrs Rushton looks uncomfortable but smiles at me encouragingly.

I start my walk.

‘Too fast,' Mom barks.

I start again.

‘Too slow.'

I start again, and now all the boys are staring at me because of the tone in Mom's voice.

‘Hahahaha, you're crap,' Henry sneers.

Mrs Rushton shushes him.

I can see by Mom's face that I'm letting her down. She wanted to show me off to her friend, and I've already messed it up.

My legs wobble as I see the rage building in her face. I feel sick. The food is threatening to come back up. I can't move, and I know she's getting angrier and angrier. Everyone in the room is just looking at me.

Louis goes to stand beside his mom. His small body nestles against her leg. Mrs Rushton's hand automatically rises and strokes his head. An unconscious, loving gesture.

Suddenly it's all too much and I burst into tears.

Mrs Rushton rises from the sofa.

‘Leave her alone,' Mom snaps. ‘She's got nothing to cry for. I'm the one who should be crying because she's useless. Ugly, fat, stupid and?—'

‘Get your things, boys,' Mrs Rushton says, heading towards the door.

I say nothing as they leave. I stay where I am in the middle of the room unable to stop the sobs. I gag and vomit and still I can't stop crying. The mucus is pouring from my nose over my lips.

‘Well, what a clever girl you are,' Mom says from the doorway. ‘Completely humiliated me in front of my friend. After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me. You can't even walk in a straight line. You don't have one ounce of grace to make up for your looks. I'm expected to work miracles with a lump of dough. I don't even know why I'm wasting my time. You're never going to be good at anything.'

Every word stabs me in the heart. I cry harder. I want her to hold me. I want her to ask me if I'm okay. I want her to soothe me. I want her to stop saying these horrible words.

‘Get upstairs until you can stop that snivelling. I can't even look at you right now. You disgust me.'

With the tears refusing to stop, I turn and run up to my room.