Polly, meanwhile, had changed too and now sat huddled in her chair, hands quietly folded in her lap.
Oh my.
Her arms were covered, from the edge of the T-shirt to just above her wrists, with a hideous palette of blue and black, yellow, green and violet, like monstrous tattoo sleeves. Fingerprints from an evil hand. Polly glanced up at us, her eyes wide with fear. ‘I fall a lot. Low blood pressure,’ she muttered.
She knew that we knew.
Hester, who probably knew all this already, using her X-ray vision, seemed as unsurprised by my scars as she was by Polly’s bruises, and clapped her hands together once to call the meeting to order.
Oh yes – we’d forgotten there was supposed to be a point to all this stripping.
‘Leona, you’re first. Please stand in front of the mirror,’ Hester said.
Leona, rolling her shoulders awkwardly, twisted until she faced the mirror.
‘Now. Rowan, please tell Leona what you see.’
Leona stiffened; I think only Hester’s grasp of her shoulder prevented her from bolting out of the room. Leona didn’t usually wear much make-up, or dress in especially flattering clothes, but white was not a good colour on her.
Rowan pursed her lips in thought. ‘I see your eyes. They’re like, nice. And kind. You don’t look at me like you think I’m worse than you ’cos I’m young and I’ve got a kid and I never passed any exams.’ She paused before continuing. ‘Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if you’d been my mum.’
Leona jerked in astonishment.
Rosa was next. ‘I see a woman who always put everybody first. It your fault your children are fine woman and man because you gave all your love to them. Did great job.’
Uzma said, ‘Rowan’s right. You look at people as though you really care about how they are. If I had a problem, I’d be glad to have you around.’
And so we carried on, around the circle. By the end, Leona seemed shell-shocked. In a good way.
Melody went next. And one by one, fourteen women stood in front of that mirror, some of whom barely knew each other, others who had walked shoulder to shoulder through dozens of the challenges women face. There were many smiles, many hugs, many tissues spilling over the edge of the bin by the end of it. To say I felt terrified when I took my place in front of Marilyn’s oak-framed mirror didn’t begin to cover it. What did these women see when they looked at me? Did I want it to be the truth, or the mask I wore, the pretend Faith? Was she almost the same thing these days?
‘I see a woman who is strong as well as tough,’ Melody told me.
‘I see a woman beginning to find out who she really is, and there is nothing more lovely than that,’ said Mags.
‘Faith, I see in your eyes and your crocodile scars a woman who has suffered, but hasn’t let it make her bitter,’ Millie declared.
‘Faith, I love your hair. Millions of women would kill for hair that colour and that thick. You must be doing something right to have hair that thick.’
‘Thanks, Rowan.’
‘I love that you have no idea how beautiful you are,’ Kim said. ‘You catch the eye of most men you walk past, and don’t even realise. I even caught Dylan staring at you.’
Excuse me? Could we please erase that comment? Not helpful to my embarrassing, childish crush.
‘You were a survivor,’ Marilyn said. ‘But now you’re well on your way to being a conqueror. I look at you and I see a kick-butt queen like Boadicea lurking just beneath the surface.’
‘It’s the hair!’ Janice said.
‘It’s not the hair. Well, maybe a bit her hair. But it’s more than that. There’s something about you that inspires me to fight for what matters. You get what’s important. Not many people manage that.’
‘Thanks, Marilyn.’
‘You’re welcome, buddy.’
Polly was last, having been the last to get ready. We all told her pretty much the same thing.
‘I see a woman who is beautiful, and kind, and precious, and deserves to be cherished, and treated with love and care and respect at all times!’
