Never Close Your Eyes (13 page)

‘What's the matter?' Nic cried. ‘It sounds great so far.'

Evie shook her head. ‘The problem is I was going to make Spiculus turn out to be a rat and Marcellus, the husband, was going to be lovely all along, he just thought Cornelia didn't love him, which was why he was in the country villa.' She put her face in her hands. ‘And now,' she said, weeping, ‘I'm going to have to change my whole plot. Because Neil's girlfriend's having a baby and he's never going to come back.'

Nic got up and put her arms around Evie. ‘Oh, honey,' she said. ‘You still love him, don't you?'

Evie nodded miserably.

‘You know what?' Nic said, standing up. ‘I think you
are
going to have to change the plot. I think you should make Spiculus the true hero who rescues Cornelia from her vile husband who's a bully and a gambler and a love rat.'

Evie looked up with a tearstained face. ‘You think?' she said. ‘It'll take a lot of rewriting.'

Nic nodded firmly. ‘Definitely. Never mind the rewriting, it'll be worth it in the end.'

Evie looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe you're right.' She wiped her nose on a piece of crumpled hankie that she'd fished from her jeans pocket and brightened. ‘Hey, Zelda says I'm going to meet a new man, some sort of explorer.'

Nic looked puzzled. ‘Zelda?'

Evie was embarrassed. She'd forgotten that she hadn't told Nic or Becca about Zelda. Somehow she didn't think they'd approve.

‘She's a psychic,' Evie confessed. ‘I talk to her sometimes on the phone. She's very good.' She glanced at Nic. ‘Honestly.'

Nic tried to frown but couldn't so she twisted her mouth instead. ‘You don't believe in all that rubbish, do you?'

‘Not really,' Evie said quickly. ‘But there's no harm in it.'

Nic looked at her seriously. ‘You say that, but I think psychics can be dangerous. They play with people's minds, particularly vulnerable people. You should be careful.'

‘Don't worry,' Evie promised. ‘It's only a bit of fun.'

‘I must admit I'm a little scared.'

The orthodontist patted Nic on the shoulder. ‘Relax. It'll be worth it in the end. Just focus on that million-dollar smile.'

He was a big man, clean-shaven and rather handsome, with longish brown hair that came down over his ears and curled slightly at the white collar of his tunic. He must be in his forties and had a slight Australian accent. He looked like an outdoors type: strong and hearty, but his voice was low and reassuring.

He'd been through the procedure with her very carefully but she still had butterflies in her stomach. She closed her eyes, wishing that the dental surgery didn't smell so clinical. It just added to her nerves. The orthodontist's gloves reeked of antiseptic, too.

He'd put some Beethoven on in the background, which was soothing. She thought again that she really should have eaten something before she came because she'd been warned that she'd only be able to manage soft foods for several days.

The dental nurse put some plastic glasses on Nic. ‘Now open your mouth.' She did as she was told.

‘I'm going to put some little triangles in your cheeks,' the nurse said. They felt soft, like cotton-wool padding. She passed the orthodontist a spray which he squirted in Nic's mouth. ‘This'll make it dry inside so the glue will stick,' he explained.

The nurse was a pretty little thing in her twenties with squiggly auburn hair tied back in a ponytail and lots of freckles. She talked quite a bit to Nic, explaining what the orthodontist was doing.

‘This plastic bracket is to keep your mouth open while we put the braces on,' she said pleasantly. Nic's jaw was beginning to ache already. ‘Now we're going to put a special liquid on your teeth to get them ready for the braces. It's going to sit on them for thirty to sixty seconds. Then we're going to rinse the teeth out, spray a lot of water.' She looked at her watch while she waited for a minute to be up. ‘You might get some funny looks for a few days.' She laughed. ‘Have you told your friends what you're having done?'

Nic shook her head and made a grunting noise. In truth, she hadn't told anyone that she was going to get braces, mainly because she didn't want to be dissuaded. Even Alan had no idea. He'd say that she didn't need them.

The nurse produced something that looked like a hairdryer and gave it to the orthodontist, who puffed hot air in her mouth. It didn't hurt, it just felt peculiar.

‘OK,' the nurse went on, ‘then we have this little lollipop with a special liquid on it. It really gets on the teeth well.'

The blow-dryer went in Nic's mouth again. This was all taking what felt like a very long time. Her head was aching and her stomach straining. She was dismayed that the painkillers she'd taken earlier for her hangover were wearing off so quickly.

It wasn't the money Alan would be angry about; he'd always been generous with cash and rarely questioned her about her spending. It was silly to be anxious. Unnecessary. She tried to shove him to the back of her mind and focus on something else.

The nurse must have read her mind. ‘Think about a lovely beach with yellow sand and palm trees,' she suggested. ‘This is the tray that has the braces on. We're going to go ahead and put it in your mouth and press down a little bit. You OK? Can you give me a thumbs up?'

Nic just about managed one. She wasn't happy, though. Her teeth and gums were protesting; they didn't like the brutal treatment. Good idea, she thought, to focus on a beach. She tried to remember their holiday last summer in Barbados. Dominic had loved it; there had been a boy roughly his own age staying at the hotel, an only child, too. They'd teamed up and spent hours snorkelling and playing table tennis. It had been perfect. Alan had had his nose buried in a book for virtually the entire two weeks. She'd read about five books herself and there had been a plentiful supply of free cocktails.

‘Now we're going to shine a light that will help us harden the glue on the braces,' said the nurse.

Nic's mind clouded over. That call from her mother had cast rather a pall over the final few days. Mummy had slipped and broken her wrist. She was lonely, Nic knew, since Daddy had died, but tried so hard not to show it. Nic's siblings weren't much help. Her sister lived in Dubai with her husband and family and her brother, the single one, was in Cornwall.

He was worse than useless in any family crisis; he only thought of himself. Sure enough, when Nic had rung to see if he could take a few days off work and stay with Mummy in Hampshire until she returned, he'd claimed he couldn't get away.

‘Don't even think about cutting short your holiday,' Mummy had said. ‘I'm fine, truly. My neighbour's being such a help. She went shopping for me yesterday and stocked up the fridge. So kind of her. You have a lovely time and I'll see you when you get back. Give Dominic a big kiss.'

Nic
had
considered flying home, but she knew it would only make Mummy cross. Nic knew she'd cope all right; she was tough. She'd had to be, bringing up three kids on her own when Daddy was with the Army overseas, often in some of the world's hottest spots. It had made Nic feel guilty, though, to think of her struggling on her own. She shouldn't have to.

Nic pictured Daddy's face: so strong and kind. He hadn't stood any nonsense from them when they were little, but she had always been secure in his affection, always known that he wanted what was best for them.

She tried to swallow. It wasn't easy when her mouth was wide open and there was someone poking and prodding around inside.

‘You're doing really well,' the orthodontist said. ‘We're ready to put the upper braces on now. We're going to push up on the teeth, you'll feel a slight pressure . . .'

Slight pressure? She felt as if her upper jaw might crack.

‘Now we're going to shine the light that's going to help us harden the glue on the braces again, OK?'

Nic nodded. Daddy would be so worried if he knew what a mess she was in. Thank God he'd never find out. Nor would Mummy. Of that Nic was determined. Mummy was too old to be burdened with her problems.

‘Now we're going to take off the top part off the soft tray,' said the nurse.

Nic felt more tugging. They must be nearly finished now. Daddy had warned her about the dangers of drinking; he said he'd seen at first hand in the officer's mess what harm it could do. He and Mummy rarely drank themselves: just a glass or two of wine on special occasions, some champagne for a celebration. He wouldn't understand, he'd have told her just to stop. ‘Have a bit of self-discipline.'

‘And the bottom part,' said the nurse. ‘Good.'

Nic took a deep breath. If only it were that easy.

The nurse took the bracket out and the pillows from her cheeks. Nic's mouth felt sore and bruised, but there was no pain.

‘Sit up now and have a good rinse,' said the nurse, passing her a plastic cup. The pink liquid tasted weird. Nic had difficulty swooshing it round her mouth. Her teeth were numb and jangling at the same time.

The dentist took his mask off and smiled. He had a perfect set of teeth himself: white and very straight. He was an excellent advertisement.

‘All done!' he said. ‘It's going to feel a little tender for the first week or so. We'll give you some pain relief.'

He walked over to the sink in the corner of the room and took off his gloves. Nic was still sitting upright on the reclining chair.

‘Would you like to have a look?' The nurse smiled, reaching for a little round mirror on the worktop behind. Nic nodded. The moment of truth.

She took the mirror in both hands, opened her mouth and grinned widely. She'd gone for turquoise-coloured braces; she'd decided that black would look as if she had decay, red as if her teeth were bleeding and yellow as if her teeth were covered in egg or something. She'd been warned against white because they would get dirty. Turquoise seemed quite fun, as if she were making a statement rather than trying to pretend that the train tracks weren't there.

They were startling, though. She stared at them for some time. She looked like an overgrown teenager. She just needed a few spots and pigtails to complete the bizarre look. She closed her mouth quickly.

‘It'll take a little while for your mouth to adjust to the feeling of them being there,' said the nurse, taking the mirror from Nic. ‘You may experience a tingling sensation that makes it feel as if your teeth are itching. That's quite normal. Also, as the teeth shift the wire may poke out of the back of the brackets on your molars so we'll give you some wax for that. Occasionally the brackets can irritate your cheeks and lips. Put a small amount of wax on the face of the bracket and you'll have instant relief.'

Nic started to get up. She felt wobbly. The nurse took her arm.

‘Try eating foods like macaroni, mashed potato, ice cream and soups for the first week or so,' she went on. ‘Make an appointment at reception for a month's time when we'll tighten the braces, but if you have any problems in the meantime please don't hesitate to give us a call.'

‘Thank you,' Nic managed to mumble.

For a second she wondered why on earth she'd done it, why she'd chosen to put herself through so much discomfort. It wasn't as if the twisted tooth was that noticeable. She brushed the thought from her mind. She was looking after herself, that was it. Her teeth had always bugged her; she'd feel better once they were straight. Maybe it would encourage her to get herself straight, too.

She decided to stop at the supermarket on the way home and buy some tins of soup.

‘Bit nicer out there today,' the cashier said pleasantly. She was a plump woman in her fifties with a short, curly brown perm and glasses. Nic saw her quite often when she popped in for something or other.

She piled the tins of soup into a single plastic bag; she'd forgotten to bring her environmentally friendly canvas one.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘Not quite so cold.' She handed the cashier her card and smiled.

The woman jumped. She couldn't help herself. ‘Oh.'

Nic had momentarily forgotten about the braces. ‘I've just had them put on,' she explained, closing her mouth quickly. ‘There's no getting away from them, is there?'

The cashier looked flustered. ‘I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting . . .'

‘It's all right,' Nic reassured. ‘I know they're a bit obvious.'

Great, she thought as she headed towards the car park. So much for funky turquoise. Now she was going to have to wear a bleeding paper bag over her head for the next twelve months . . .

Chapter Thirteen