I return from the bathroom. ‘Do you think I need to get my eyebrows shaped?’ I ask. My friend looks at me. ‘No,’ she says. ‘They’re fine.’ I continue with my day. That evening, brushing my teeth, I notice that huge swathes of eyebrows are occupying my forehead.
It’s a wonder I can see. I wonder why my friend has tried to sabotage me in this manner. It is possible that she noticed I had drunk rather a lot of her expensive raspberry and orange juice.
It still seemed a terribly sly way to wreak her revenge. I would have to watch my friend carefully in future. (And drink her juice more stealthily). My friend is not the only person I am watching. I spend much of my time keeping a wary eye on my little sister. It started in my bathroom. My doctor friend was visiting. (I am aware that this could sound as though I have a private doctor who was paying me a house call because I am wracked with some frightfully embarrassing illness. This is not the case. It’s just my friend, who happens to be a doctor).
‘Why do you have vitamin B tablets?’ she asked. ‘My little sister prescribed them for me,’ I told her. ‘Apparently I was displaying some of the symptoms of vitamin B deficiency. I didn’t want to make a fuss, I’m being terribly brave about the whole thing.’ My doctor friend looked at me oddly. ‘You know who gets vitamin B deficiencies?’ she asked me. ‘Extremely brave and funny people?’ I asked. ‘Um,’ she said. ‘We pretty much exclusively prescribe it for alcoholics.’ ‘Extremely brave and funny alcoholics?’ I asked cajolingly. It’s not the diagnosis I’m upset by. It’s the sneakiness. I’ll be watching them all from now on. Just as soon as I’ve plucked my eyebrows.