13
The invisible girl
The Pain had breached the defences of CASTLE BUTT!
What was going on? Had someone forgotten to raise the drawbridge? Was there a crack in the outer wall? Did someone leave the boiling oil off the stove? Had the moat dried up or the flesh-eating moat monsters suddenly turned vegan? Was I the only one still at my battle station with my sword and armour ready to defend Castle Butt with my last drop of blood?
Whatever the explanation, I knew one thing for sure. If my first two brief meetings with The Pain were painful enough, an extended encounter was sure to be excruciating. Therefore, I had to be fully prepared. By the time Saturday morning arrived, my Detailed Pain Survival Strategy Plan was firmly in place. It consisted of this:
1. Say ‘Hi’ to The Pain when he arrives followed quickly with ‘Bye!’
2. Retreat immediately to the safety of my room.
3. Stay there until he leaves. Genius!
On the day itself, I managed the ‘Hi’/ ‘Bye’ and the ‘retreat to my room’ bits with no problem at all. But ‘staying in my room’, well, that wasn’t quite so simple. As I soon discovered, there were some details of my Detailed Survival Strategy Plan that I perhaps hadn’t considered carefully enough.
The fact that there was no toilet in my room was one of those details. Plus, there was the little problem of food. (Or in my case, the BIG problem of LITTLE food.) You see, if I go too long without shoving something edible into my mouth, I have this tendency to turn ever so slightly mental. It’s not a pretty sight. Fortunately, I managed to solve the lunch problem without too much difficulty.
After I had successfully completed my ‘greet and retreat’ manoeuvre with The Pain, he spent the rest of the morning with Mum in the garage fixing some problem with our car and giving it a bit of a home service. Apparently he was a mechanic or something before he became a nurse. Anyway, just before midday, with both of them still in the garage, I took the opportunity to sneak out of my room and use the bathroom.
Too easy!
And it got even better. On the return trip, I successfully raided the kitchen and grabbed an apple, a big tub of yoghurt, a handful of nuts, some squares of dark chocolate, a couple of muesli bars, a big scoop of cold leftover lasagne and some bottled water. Some healthy food, some junk food. A well-balanced diet! I smuggled the haul to my room.
Mission accomplished!
About an hour later when Mum poked her head into my room and asked me if I was coming out for lunch, I just handed her my plate (piled up with the apple core, the empty yoghurt container, the alfoil from the lasagne and the scrunched up muesli and chocolate bar wrappers) and said, ‘Oh, sorry, Mum. I’ve already eaten. Couldn’t wait. I was starving!’
I don’t think my mother was impressed. In fact on a scale from one to ten where ten is ‘Extremely Impressed!’ and one is ‘Extremely Pissed Off!’ I suspect that Mum would have been about a minus five. I admit that I did feel a bit bad, I really did, but hey, Castle Butt had been breached and drastic measures were needed to repel the invader. At least I hadn’t poured boiling oil over him!
So far the day had gone precisely to plan. I had relieved my complaining bowels and cleverly avoided a potentially painful and groan-worthy extended lunch encounter with The Pain.
Maggie 2. The Pain 0.
But by the late afternoon things were turning desperate again.
To start with, I’d completely run out of bottled water and once again I was becoming a teeny bit peckish (i.e. ravenous). Also I was beginning to really feel the call (i.e. the shriek) of nature as all that bottled water I’d drunk was threatening to make a disturbing reappearance. Which is why, when I glanced out of my bedroom window and saw The Pain heading towards his car, I thought, ‘Woohoo, he’s leaving!’ and bolted straight for the bathroom.
Via the kitchen.
Where I ran into Mum.
She was cutting up cheese into bite-sized pieces. Beside her on the bench I spotted two wine glasses and an unopened bottle of red. Apparently, I’d got it all wrong. The Pain wasn’t leaving at all, but just ‘popping out to get his jacket from the car’!
Mum asked me if I wanted something to eat.
And I did. I absolutely did. But I wanted to avoid The Pain even more.
‘No. I’m fine,’ I lied as I grabbed some cheese, stuffed it in my mouth and made a beeline (peeline?) for the bathroom.
After narrowly avoiding a serious bladder meltdown, I left the bathroom and set off for The Pain-free safety of my room. But not before peeking into the kitchen. Mum was still alone in there. Time for one more brief detour while the coast was clear! I slipped in and stealthily scooped up some more cheese on my way through.
And Mum went off. It was like I’d lifted the Crown Jewels!
‘For heaven’s sake, Maggie! Would you just stop. I’m never going to get this done if you keep wandering in and helping yourself whenever you feel like it.’
Why was she so cheesed off? (Sorry.)
Then I made another one of my famous dumb mistakes. I stood there stupidly wasting time debating the heinous nature of my crime with my mother. And before I knew it, The Pain had returned.
Mum jabbed a thumb my way. (Rude!)
‘It’s this one. I offer to get her something to eat. I’m happy to do that but she says no, she’s fine. Then when I’m trying to put together a platter for us, every time she comes through here, she takes a fistful of cheese with her.’
Every time? A fistful? You’d never exaggerate in a million years, would you, Mum? I’d only been through twice. And not once were my fists full. No way! I could have easily crammed another piece of cheese in there. Possibly two pieces.
But Mum’s exaggeration I could handle. What I couldn’t handle was what The Pain did next.
‘It sounds like that old Paul Young song to me.’
Now Mum and I were staring at The Pain just like I did that first night at the front door, until Mum said, ‘Paul Young song? What Paul Young song? What in the world are you talking about?’
And even before I saw that sneaky look growing on his face, I knew from past experience that asking The Pain a question like that, particularly one involving songs from Before the Dawn of Time, was almost certainly a GIGANTIC ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
‘That song by Paul Young,’ The Pain repeated, as if it should be obvious what he’s talking about. ‘You know. The one that goes like this.’ And he picked up an egg flipper and a wooden spoon from our island bench and started drumming out a slow, thudding beat in the sink.
Bash! Clunk. Bash! Clunk. Bash! Clunk. Bash! Clunk.
Then it was like a recurring musical nightmare, because The Pain started to sing and he did a screwed-up, constipated face thing as well. But different words were coming out of his mouth this time as he closed his eyes and swayed back and forth singing to the beat:
EV-RY-TIME-YOU-GO … A-WAY
Bash! Clunk. Bash!
YOU-TAKE-A-PIECE-OF-CHEESE … WITH-YOU!
You see what he did there? He used ‘cheese’ instead of ‘me’. Genius! 
The Pain pointed right at my face when he sang those last words. And Mum threw back her head and laughed. I didn’t. But that didn’t stop The Pain. Not one little bit. He sang those same lines again accompanied by the same disturbing face. Not only was he The Pain, he looked like he could be in pain as well.
But there was worse to come.
After he finished singing the lines for a second time, he dropped the spoon and egg flipper in the sink and grabbed Mum by the hand and twirled her around. Now they were both dancing about the kitchen, grinning and laughing into each other’s face. And then they BOTH started singing.
EV-RY-TIME-YOU-GO … A-WAY
Dum! Dum! Dum! (Yes, they actually sang Dum! Dum! Dum!)
YOU-TAKE-A-PIECE-OF-CHEESE … WITH-YOU!
The Pain threw up his arms. ‘Come on! Everybody! With feeling this time! Let me hear you!’ And they sang it all over again.
And me?
With my mother and The Pain still going full volume, I edged past the island bench and backed slowly out of the kitchen. And as I went away (Dum! Dum! Dum!) I took a piece of cheese with me.
Wait. Make that a whole fistful of pieces!
But it didn’t really matter. Because neither my mother nor The Pain noticed.
Or appeared to care.