Penny Jordan's Crighton Family Series. PENNY JORDAN
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like this….’
The sound of his nephew’s voice made him turn round. Dear God, no child should have to witness this ugliness, yet Jack seemed so composed, so knowing … so adult. Then he remembered the way the boy had hung back from entering the kitchen.
‘Tiggy …’ he tried again, but she was eating something else now, refusing to even look at him, never mind show that she was listening to him.
‘She’ll have eaten everything soon,’ Jack said dispassionately, ‘and … and then it will be all right … unless …’ He paused and looked up at Jon. ‘Sometimes it isn’t enough and she has to have more and then …’
Jon could see the boy’s face starting to crumble as he tried to control his emotions. Automatically he reached for him, held him in his arms and gently rocked him. Dear God, he felt so thin. Far, far thinner surely than Joss.
There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask him, a hundred things he needed to know. He hadn’t the foggiest idea of how to handle this situation. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tiggy starting to creep along the floor. She held a knife in her hand now. His heart started to thud unevenly.
How much of this was his fault … his responsibility …? How much had he contributed to tipping her over the edge and into this dark abyss she was now inhabiting?
He couldn’t deal with this on his own. He needed help … he needed …
His arm around Jack’s shoulders, he started to guide him out of the kitchen. In the hallway he picked up the telephone and punched in a number.
‘Who are you ringing?’ Jack asked anxiously. Jon hugged him reassuringly as he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line.
‘Jenny,’ he said huskily before pausing to clear his throat. ‘Jenny, it’s me, Jon.’
As she heard her husband’s voice, Jenny closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, willing herself not to start crying.
‘Jon, yes,’ she replied. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m at David and Tiggy’s,’ Jon told her. He could hear her indrawn breath and added quickly, ‘No, Jen, please don’t hang up. This isn’t … It’s not what you think, Jenny. Please listen,’ he pleaded.
Tensely Jenny gripped the receiver. Dear God, what was it he wanted to say? Why was he ringing her? What did he want? To tell her that he was moving in with Tiggy …?
‘Jen … I … I need your help. Can you come over? Now … please.’
Jon looked down at Jack who was standing stiffly at his side.
‘It’s Tiggy,’ he heard himself saying. ‘She’s … she’s … there’s a bit of a problem,’ he told her. ‘Please come, Jen … now.’
‘Yes … yes … I’ll be there,’ Jenny promised.
Olivia passed the ambulance on the main road as she drove tiredly home. After she left Saul, she had absently got into her car and driven mindlessly though the dark country lanes, the tears pouring down her face as she wept out her pain and despair.
Saul had been so good about everything and so generous, telling her gently that he was the one to blame and not her and that he was a fool for thinking what he had.
‘Of course you still love him,’ he had told her quietly, lifting her chin and looking into her eyes. ‘You’re that kind of person.’
‘Oh, Saul,’ she had wept. ‘I’m so sorry. How could I …?’
‘It’s not your fault,’ he had repeated.
But he was wrong. It was. She should have known. She had known but had tried to ignore that knowledge, to tell herself that if Caspar could so easily replace her, then she could do exactly the same.
Only she couldn’t. She still loved him … still wanted him, still ached for him with her emotions and her body even as her mind acknowledged the impossibility of their ever settling their differences, of his ever being able to accept her as the person she was.
Saul had not wanted her to leave whilst she was so obviously upset, but she had refused to listen to him, and in the end he had been forced to let her go. She had no real idea how far she had actually driven, only that suddenly she realised that she was totally exhausted and needed to get home.
As she turned into the drive, she saw that the house was ablaze with lights. Four cars were parked haphazardly outside, five including her mother’s. Two of them she recognised. Her stomach started to churn as she got shakily out of her car and started to run towards the house.
Jenny had seen her arrive and was at the door waiting for her. Olivia knew the moment she saw her face. ‘It’s Tiggy, isn’t it?’ she demanded, and although five minutes earlier she would have sworn that she had no tears left, all at once she started to cry again.
Jenny wrapped her in her arms and rocked her soothingly in much the same way that Jon had done with Jack earlier.
‘It’s all right, Livvy, everything’s all right,’ Jenny crooned calmingly. ‘Come inside and sit down. Jon, put the kettle on, would you?’ she called out to her husband as he appeared in the hallway, but Olivia shook her head.
‘I’m fine,’ she whispered. ‘I think I know what’s happened.’
Behind Jon she could see two other men. One of whom she guessed, vaguely recognised, was the local doctor.
‘It’s Tiggy, isn’t it? She’s had another …’ She swallowed and bit her lip. ‘Is she …?’
‘Your mother’s got an eating problem, Livvy,’ Jenny told her gently, ‘and Dr Travers feels—’
‘Your mother needs specialised treatment,’ the doctor interjected to tell Olivia. ‘I’ve arranged for her to be hospitalised for tonight. With this kind of disorder there’s always a danger of someone choking to death, either on the food they’ve gorged or on their own vomit.’
‘I knew … I knew what she was doing, but I tried to pretend it was just a one-off. I didn’t … I should have …’ Olivia looked helplessly at Jenny. ‘I wanted to tell you, but …’
‘Livvy, it isn’t your fault,’ Jenny asserted firmly.
‘I saw her,’ Olivia continued despairingly. ‘Just after I came home, I found her in the kitchen one night. Caspar told me then that she needed help … treatment … but I … we … we quarrelled about it. I couldn’t believe … I didn’t want to believe. I should have listened to him … done something then. I should have known….’
‘People like your mother are very skilled at concealing their addiction,’ the doctor informed her sympathetically.
‘Olivia, please believe it isn’t your fault,’ Jenny repeated.
‘What … what will happen to her?’ Olivia asked the doctor uncertainly.
He exchanged a look with Jenny and Jon.
‘We’ve agreed with the doctor that your mother should be admitted into a private clinic that deals in eating disorders,’ Jenny replied quietly.
‘It’s too early to say yet how well she will respond to the treatment. Bulimia isn’t an easy problem to deal with either for the sufferer or her family,’ Dr Travers explained.
‘Your father will have to be told, of course,’ Jenny added, looking at Jon.
‘Yes. I’ll have a word with the specialist first, though,’ Jon agreed.
After the doctor had left, Olivia started to thank Jenny and Jon for what they’d done, but Jenny stopped her. ‘I feel terribly guilty because we didn’t realise what was happening earlier,’ Jenny admitted.
‘There was no way