the problem out in the open. Instead he felt overwhelmed. For as long as it had lurked underground, he had hopelessly believed there was a chance it would go away by itself. Now it had to be addressed. ‘I guess I did. She had a bout, years ago. I suspected she’d started again. Will she be okay?’
‘From her blood work, the state of her teeth, she’s packed a lot of purging into a short time, but it’s impossible to know exactly how much.’
‘Can we ask her?’
‘She’s likely to lie.’
‘Not to me.’
A sympathetic look from the doctor made him twitchy with fear. She knew more than he did about Cara, about what she’d been doing. And Cara had been lying to him: lying by omission was still a lie.
‘In my experience,’ the doctor said, ‘Cara will need residential care –’
‘Wait – what, a hospital? You said she was stable.’
‘A treatment centre. For addiction. Yes, it’s an addiction. I can give you a leaflet.’
‘But … How long would she have to go in for?’
‘It’s generally twenty-eight days.’
‘And then she’ll be fixed?’
‘I can recommend a couple of places in Dublin. I’d ring first thing in the morning, get her on the wait lists.’
‘And then she’ll be fixed?’
‘You can see her now. Fancy-dress party, was it?’
She’d had a sense of bumping and moving at speed. Bright lights were shone into her eyes. She knew Ed was there. Others, too, but Ed was the only one she needed.
Unfamiliar voices were asking and answering short, urgent questions.
‘What’s going on?’ Her voice was hoarse.
Ed’s face was very close. ‘You had a seizure.’
‘Why?’
His face was blank. ‘You tell me.’
No. No, no, no, no, no.
It couldn’t be. That was too crazy. It must be stress. Or some neurological thing that had only just appeared …
This could not be her fault.
Then they arrived at a big busy hospital. Ed was no longer with her as she was wheeled into a small, curtained space, to be examined by a succession of people in blue scrubs. ‘I’m okay now,’ she kept saying anxiously.
‘Excellent. I’m just going to …’
Then she was hurriedly hooked up to a drip, attached to a heart monitor, and had four vials of blood taken from her veins. ‘Really,’ she pleaded. ‘I’m fine. Can I see my husband?’
‘After your CAT scan.’
A CAT scan? Cold horror overtook her. If she’d triggered all this medical expertise and expense from too much chocolate and puking, the guilt would kill her.
And to think she’d done it on Jessie’s special birthday.
As she lay on her back in the tight white machine, for a moment she hoped the scan would show that she had a real condition, like epilepsy. Then shame kicked in once more. When she got out of here, she would take a long, hard look at things. Perhaps she could see a hypnotherapist, to help her stop.
The curtain of her cubicle swished aside and in came the doctor, followed by Ed.
She tried to smile.
‘No neurological issues,’ Dr Colgan said. ‘You can leave shortly. How long have you been bulimic?’
Cara flicked a look at Ed. ‘I’m not –’
‘You’ve a chronic eating disorder.’ The doctor was clearly in no mood for nonsense. ‘You can see the results of your blood work. Your electrolytes are acutely out of balance. And your tooth enamel shows signs of recent acid erosion.’
All of her secrets were written in her body.
‘How long?’ the doctor repeated.
‘Three months.’
She shook her head. ‘Longer than that.’
‘I swear. Only three months.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly packed a lot in. This isn’t your first bout?’
This mortification would never end. ‘No.’
‘I’d recommend in-patient care for at least four weeks.’
What? No. ‘I can’t. I’ve a job and two children.’
‘I’ve seen this before. You could die if you don’t stop. It’s unlikely that you’ll stop on your own.’
‘I will.’ She was scared shitless.
‘Bulimia is an addiction.’
That wasn’t true. She’d just been eating too much chocolate and now the very idea of it made her feel sick.
The drive back to Gulban Manor was in silence, but as soon as they were in their room of many beds, Ed rounded on her. ‘You should have told me.’ He was furious. ‘What’s the use of this – you and me – if you can’t tell me about something so, so … important?’
‘It was only for a short time. I was going to stop and –’
‘I thought you were going to die,’ he said. ‘Can you imagine how that feels?’