Chapter 4 #2
SJ mouthed her mother’s next words at the phone. ‘And it’s all such a long time ago.’
‘And it’s all such a long time ago. We would so like you both to be there. At the same time, I mean. It would really make our day.’
‘That’s emotional blackmail, Mum.’
‘It’s not emotional blackmail. It’s a mother wanting to be with her family on her special day. You’ll understand when you have your own children.’
‘Mmm,’ SJ said, hoping they weren’t going into the when-are-you-going-to-give-me-a-grandchild? routine. That was another sore point between her and Tom. She’d wanted to try before she was too much older and he was worried they couldn’t afford it.
‘Why don’t we meet up for a drink, love? It’s been ages since we’ve seen that lovely husband of yours.’
‘Good idea,’ SJ replied absently. ‘Why don’t you come over for dinner and I’ll get Tom to cook for us?
It’s a bit soon to organise it for this Saturday.
’ She’d need a lot more than four days to think up a good enough excuse to miss the ruby wedding party.
‘How about the one after that? We can have a good natter then.’
‘That sounds lovely – if you’re sure you don’t mind. All right, we’ll see you then. We’ll bring a nice bottle of wine.’
SJ disconnected with a sigh of relief. Saturday week was certainly far enough away not to have to worry about it. She glanced at the drinks cabinet opposite the sofa.
Tom occasionally had an after-dinner Scotch and the bottle had been half full for ages, but the gin bottle was nearly empty.
Perhaps she should finish it now so it wasn’t a temptation later on.
That was a good plan – Kit was bound to tell her not to drink gin sooner or later.
She’d managed to sidestep the issue today by telling him they had hardly any left.
The first drink of the evening. Bliss. She poured a generous amount, topped up with tonic, and realised there was no room for lemon – ah well.
She was mid-gulp when the front door banged and she heard the thud of Tom’s laptop case on the solid wood floor of the hall.
‘Hi, darling,’ she called, torn between relief and, for some reason, guilt. ‘Had a good day?’
By the sound of his answering grunt he hadn’t, and he didn’t come into the lounge but went straight upstairs.
He’d probably cheer up after a beer. SJ hooked one out of a stack behind the bar.
She was halfway through the gin and tonic, enjoying the glorious taste of juniper berries – people said gin didn’t taste, but it did – when she remembered she was supposed to fill in her form about how she felt before she had her first drink. Damn.
She knew how she felt now – pretty relaxed.
How had she felt before? Thirsty probably; what else would you be prior to pouring yourself a drink?
She had a sneaking suspicion Kit wouldn’t find that as amusing as she did so she decided to think about it tomorrow and put something sensible like ‘needed to relax’.
Having got this sorted she stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up: ‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Tom. Are you having a shower first?’
‘Uh huh. Won’t be a tick.’
She slipped her empty G he’d worked hard for this – he deserved it.
It would mean more money too, which would be helpful as they had a humungous mortgage.
It would also mean he’d spend more nights away and she tended to drink too much when he was away.
The time she’d told Tanya about hadn’t been the first.
More pressingly, there was the little matter of the champagne. The gold foil glinted tantalisingly. She loved champagne – why did they have to celebrate just when she’d decided to cut down?
She was light-headed from finishing the gin. She and Tanya never had got round to eating earlier.
‘Let me get dinner served before it burns.’ She extricated herself from Tom’s arms.
‘Turn the oven off a minute. I want to open this first.’
SJ did as he said. She could just tell him she was worried about her drinking, but she couldn’t do that now. She couldn’t spoil his moment.
Oh, by the way, Tom, I think I might have a drink problem – nothing to worry about – just need to cut down a tad. I’m not a raging alcoholic – ha ha. Well – not yet.
That was something else Kit had said that had hit home.
If she didn’t control her drinking then things would only get worse.
SJ had believed him. She knew she drank more than she had before her marriage.
She wasn’t sure why – certainly not because of ‘unresolved issues’ – more likely because she had more opportunity these days, and more money. Or rather, Tom did.
The popping of the champagne cork jolted her back to the present and she watched Tom pour the pale golden fizz into flutes. He handed her one, smiling proudly, the brightness in his eyes rivalling the sparkle of the champagne.
‘To future success,’ he said, and downed the drink in a few gulps.
‘To future success,’ she echoed, hoping the bleakness she felt hadn’t found its way into her voice.
And then she followed his example.