‘Twitchy mickey? Your fault. Going to whack it with your pipe?’
‘… I’ll deal with it another way. Come on.’
‘Seriously?’ They’d been so much nicer to each other since the terrible row over her birthday but daytime sex hadn’t happened in years.
‘They’re all in the pool, no one will miss us. Let’s go.’
‘1.23 p.m., lunch. Salad, 1 tbsp dressing, ½ med avocado, 2 med slice sourdough, sml bunch red grapes, sparkling water.’ Cara typed it all into her phone to report later to Peggy.
When Cara had first seen her food plan, she’d panicked: there was so much. She’d put on tons of weight.
Apparently – so Peggy said – her body was so confused by all the food restricting, then bingeing, she’d been doing that it needed to relearn that a regular, steady supply of nourishment was guaranteed.
In addition, Peggy insisted that many of Cara’s binges had been triggered not by cravings but by actual old-fashioned hunger.
Maybe there was something in that. She’d always skipped breakfast to cut her daily calories. But by mid-morning, she’d get such a voracious need for food that she ate much more than the average breakfast.
In their first few sessions together, Cara had found Peggy far too bossy. She reminded her of a primary-school teacher, with her air of absolute conviction that she knew best. Now, though, Cara liked it. It was a comfort to be in the care of a counsellor with such confidence.
Now she needed to input her ‘mood after eating’. No need to even think about it: horribly self-conscious. For the first time in for ever, she was in a swimsuit, without a sarong concealing her hips and thighs. It was a sturdy navy one-piece with a built-in stomach-flattener, a million miles from Robyn’s day-glo little bikini, but still.
Maybe if only Ed and the boys were here, it would be okay. But with all these people around the pool, especially Robyn …
Cara could read her mind: the girl’s expression veered between disgust and pity for Cara. She could almost see Robyn deciding that she would never become a dumpy woman with cellulite. And maybe she wouldn’t. Not everyone was weak like Cara.
Oh, God, here came Liam, another person who made her feel vulnerable. She suspected his judgement of her thighs was savage. But it gave her a small gleam of pleasure to know that her judgement of him was equally unforgiving. There he was behind his sunglasses, thinking no one could see him checking out Robyn.
Johnny’s opinion, she worried about far less. He was all talk and, actually, a very kind perso– Jesus! With an involuntary suck of breath, she almost choked on her own epiglottis. It was Ferdia, shirtless, in a pair of board shorts. She took in his long, lean body, his hair dark against his pale skin. His shoulders and arms were adorned with various tattoos, a fuzzy dark line led from his belly-button down to his waistband and it was just all a bit … much.
‘Swit-SWOO!’ Dilly yelled at him.
Ed looked up. ‘Ah, here.’ He laughed softly. ‘I suddenly feel incredibly inadequate.’
‘Where were you all morning?’ Bridey demanded of Ferdia.
‘Knocking down a wall with a lump hammer!’ He grinned. ‘It was cool.’
‘He thinks he’s all that,’ Robyn said. ‘It’s cute.’
‘What does that mean?’ Dilly asked.
It means Robyn fancies Ferdia.
‘He looks like a man from a magazine,’ TJ declared.
‘A model!’ Bridey said.
‘Don’t tell him,’ Jessie pleaded. ‘He’ll rear up on us.’
It was too late. They’d grabbed Jessie’s Vogue and found an ad for Armani aftershave. ‘Ferdia!’ They tapped the page with wet fingers. ‘You look like him.’
‘No, his hair needs to be wet.’ Dilly was studying the picture. ‘And he needs water drops on his bosoms.’
‘Get in the pool,’ Bridey ordered. ‘You need to have swimming pool on you.’
Ferdia obliged, then sat on the edge as they fluttered around, styling him, using their fingers to comb his wet hair back from his face.
Vinnie grabbed the magazine. ‘You have to sort of half close your eyes. Yes, like that! You look so stupid!’
Urgently Tom said to Cara, ‘Mum, can I have your phone? Thanks.’ Then, ‘Ferdia, make love to the camera.’
Tom clicked off picture after picture. ‘You need to lift one of your legs.’
‘Like this?’ Ferdia hoisted one leg high into the air and the kids dissolved.
‘No, your foot on the ground and your knee bent. Yes, like that.’