Page 86 of All the Forbidden Things
She nods while stuttering out another thank you.
I turn to leave, but as I reach the door, she calls out, “Max.” I look over my shoulder at her but keep moving. “Can I see her tomorrow? Layla, can I see her?”
And there it is, the moment when I finally feel something. “No,” I tell her and keep on walking.
Billie
Ipull a plum-coloured hatwith a pom-pom on the top onto my aching head and wrap a scarf around my face. I’ve had a shit night’s sleep and woke feeling tired and miserable. Despite a long, hot shower, my head’s still pounding, and my ribs are aching from tossing and turning all night.
I have this horrible sinking feeling in my gut since Whitney arrived, I’m not sure if it’s just her presence that has me on a downer, or if my female intuition is trying to warn me of something and I’m so consumed by thoughts of Max, that I’m not getting what it is.
I close my eyes and attempt to relax my shoulders and relieve some of the tension I’m feeling. On opening my front door, I’m hit with a blast of cold air, which I breathe in deeply. It instantly helps clear my head until I step out onto the gravel, and the media frenzy at the gates starts up. I keep my head down and make a quick dash towards the back door of the main house while ignoring their questions. I hear them but, as instructed, I say nothing. Not even when I’m asked if I’m fucking Max Young.
I close the door to the laundry a little too hard and press my back against it, letting out the breath I think I held the whole way. I pull off my hat and scarf and make my way to the kitchen. Max and Layla are nowhere to be seen, but the blonde from yesterday, who I now know to be Deana, Whitney’s sister, is making herself a coffee.
“Hey.” She smiles at me over her shoulder. “Do you know how this works? I seem to be having a little trouble with it.”
“Sure,” I tell her without cracking a smile.
The compartment that holds the water is sometimes hard to slide into place, and that’s what she seems to be having trouble with. She hands me the plastic container, and I slot it into place first try.
“Ha, you made that look easy. I’m Deana, by the way, Whitney’s physical therapist...andsister.”
For some reason, she rolls her eyes when she says sister; although, I’d be rolling more than my eyes if I had a sister like Whitney. I’d probably roll said sister off a cliff and straight into a deep ocean . . . one full of sharks.
“Billie,” I offer. “I’m the nanny.”
“Oh, cool,” is all I get in reply.
An awkward silence then ensues as I lean against the worktop and watch Deana make two coffees. I’m gagging for one of my own. The pods that came with my machine were used up by the boys when they were over at my place yesterday. I need to do an online shop and stock my fridge and cupboards. I was going to go out to the supermarket today, but after experiencing the local, friendly press at the front gates, I think I’ll now give that idea a swerve.
“So, how’s your sister doing, since the accident, I mean?” I’ve gathered from the little Max has said that Whitney’s recovery has been slow. But I’m female, therefore naturally curious and want to know.
“Not great, I’m afraid. In the grand scheme of things, she was hella lucky to survive in one piece and escape with her life, but, yeah, spinal trauma is one of those injuries that is just so unpredictable.”
“But long term, will she walk again?”
She nods slowly while leaning into her hand that’s splayed on the counter.
“Yeah, eventually. At least I think so. I mean, I’m no neurosurgeon, just a PT, but the signs are all there. She has lower back pain, which isn’t great, but at least it means she has some feeling, and she has sensation in her feet and along the outside of her legs now, so I think it’s just a case of stimulating the nerves and waiting for them to fire up again.”
Unsure of how I should respond since I actually don’t give a flying fuck as to whether the bitch walks again, I simply nod. But then I can’t resist adding, “Yeah, I suppose, like you say, in the grand scheme of things, unlike Alix, she’s lucky to come out of it with her life.”
She pauses the flow of milk from the frother into the coffee cup she was pouring it into and looks up at me. “Did you know Alix?”
“I’ve met him.”
She licks her lips before giving a small shrug. “Look, working here, you probably know all that’s gone on between Max, Whitney, and Alix, and I’d just like to say, my sister is a fucking idiot. I’m here because she’s my sister and she’s in trouble, not because I condone in any way what she’s done. As far as I’m concerned, she deserves everything she’s got coming at her right now.”
Wow!
She gives an emphatic nod, in a so-there kind of gesture, picks up both the cups before saying, “I’ll catch you later, Billie. If you hear any screams, ignore them, it’s just me torturing my sister with therapy.”
“Have fun,” I reply while I set about making my own coffee. “Ya’ll be sure to hurt her good and proper, ya hear me?” I mumble under my breath in my amazing American accent.
When I’m fully caffeinated, I make my way towards the stairs to go in search of Max. Passing Whitney’s room, I hear voices and pause to listen at the slightly ajar door.
“Red hair, you say?”
