“It’s not that kind of party,” Shona said, but her face was full of concern.
“So I can show her my scars, you melon.”
Shona plucked the phone from Mattie’s hand. “Drunk texting? Since when did that help?” She knelt down next to the bed. “Foot.”
Mattie held out her right leg for Shona to take off her boots. She felt like a kid, remembering how her mum had done this for her when she couldn’t untie the laces on her muddy trainers. How old had she been? Seven? Eight?
“Other foot.”
She did as she was told. Shona pulled off the second boot and swung Mattie’s legs on to the bed. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Mattie let her pull the duvet over her. “Shona?”
“Hm?”
“Happy birthday.”
Seemingly not long after, daylight sliced through the bedroom window. “Why did you open the curtain?” she mumbled, her tongue too woolly and dry to enunciate properly.
“Because it’s noon, and you need to drink some water.” Shona held out a pint glass. “Starting now.”
Mattie sat up, took the proffered glass and sipped. The water was refreshing, unlike the turmoil in her stomach and the war raging in her head. “Thank you.”
“Come downstairs and have brunch with us,” Shona said. “You need to eat something too.”
“Not hungry.”
But Mattie’s protestations fell on deaf ears once she’d carefully navigated the stairs and flopped down onto a kitchen stool.
“Bacon sarnie?” Lisa asked.
She grimaced and held her hands to her stomach. Even the thought of bacon had her stomach roiling.
Lisa pointed to a loaf of bread. “Toast, if nothing else. Please?”
Mattie grunted her reluctant assent because it was the least offensive of all the options. Juno jumped up onto her lap, and she stroked her. Cats were so much easier to deal with than people.
Shona placed a plate with two pieces of unbuttered toast in front of her. “Eat.”
“I don’t think I can.” Mattie pushed it away. “I should go home and leave you two in peace.”
“Not until you’ve eaten this.”
Mattie pushed the plate away. “I’m not your patient.”
“You wouldn’t be going home if you were,” Shona said.
The quiet but obvious worry on Shona’s face broke Mattie. Without warning, she burst into tears. Shona slid off her stool,wrapped her arms around Mattie’s waist, and pulled her into a comforting embrace.
When she stroked Mattie’s hair, just like her mum used to, Mattie tipped over the edge. “I’m a very ugly crier.” She gulped, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
Lisa placed a box of tissues on the counter. Mattie tugged a handful and blew her nose.
“We’re worried about you,” Shona said gently.
Someone with a tiny and highly irritating hammer had taken up residence inside Mattie’s head. “I’m worried about me,” she finally admitted out loud.
Later, when she was calmer, albeit with sore eyes, she cradled a mug of black tea. “I haven’t felt right for years. Not since I lost Mum.”
