Chapter 3 #2
‘Oh, you poor darling.’ Tanya’s voice was all concern, which made it worse. ‘We’ve all been there. It’s the kind of thing that happens at parties. You get carried away and don’t realise how much you’ve had. It doesn’t mean you’re an alcoholic.’
‘I wasn’t at a party.’ SJ could feel her face heating up. ‘I was at home watching a movie. It was just a normal Sunday night.’
‘You mean you were on your own?’
‘Mmm. Are you shocked?’
‘Of course I’m not shocked. Well, maybe a bit surprised. I knew you drank, but I didn’t know it had got out of hand. Were you upset about anything?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I just opened this bottle of wine and it was going down well, so I opened another. I drank most of that. I mean, I felt fine, I didn’t even feel particularly drunk until I got up to let Ash out – I’d locked him in the kitchen by mistake, poor love, and he was barking.’
An image of Ash, their greyhound, named for his silver coat, flooded her mind and she felt a wash of sadness and guilt.
‘Then what happened?’
SJ hesitated, wondering whether to confess all. No, she definitely couldn’t bear to relive it. Not now. Maybe not ever.
‘I finished the wine and passed out.’ She shut her eyes. She hadn’t told Kit about that occasion, which had certainly been more than a fourteen-unit night. Mind you, she’d felt too ill to drink the following day – which probably cancelled it out.
‘But that was a one-off – right?’ Tanya probed.
‘Well, I don’t get that drunk very often, obviously…’
‘What does Tom say about it?’
‘He’s never said anything. I didn’t tell him I was going to that place today.’
‘Will you tell him now?’
‘Yeah, I guess. If he gets back from work before midnight.’
Tanya looked worried. ‘You two aren’t having problems, are you, SJ?’
‘I don’t really see him enough for that.’
‘I see.’
SJ stared at her empty glass. Tanya had been married for fifteen years.
According to Tanya, Michael was her soulmate and she’d never looked at another man since they’d met.
SJ had always admired her for that. She and Tom had only been married three years and they didn’t have the same closeness.
At least they didn’t these days; he was too busy. A part of her suspected they never had.
‘Me and Tom are okay. It’s just me who has the problem.’ She had a sudden urge to cry. She swallowed hard, the longing for another drink overwhelming. She was desperate for a cigarette too. Perhaps she should suggest they sat outside.
‘But if you have got a problem, then surely you’ve done the right thing. You’ve asked for help. That’s a positive step, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’ This was not at all what she wanted to hear.
Tanya was being far too sensible. What she was supposed to say was of course SJ wasn’t an alky – she just drank socially like everyone else.
If Tanya had been a really good friend she would have suggested they get a bottle and go back to hers.
Then she could get as drunk as she liked.
They’d done that a lot when they were younger – had the day off and gone to the pub for an extended lunchtime and then finished the day at one or other of their houses, sitting in the garden on sun loungers, gossiping and giggling.
SJ brightened at the thought of doing the same now, before remembering Tanya didn’t have the day off.
Neither did she. She was supposed to be marking essays.
‘I don’t suppose you fancy another drink, do you?’
‘I haven’t touched this one yet.’
The truth of that stood between them on the table and suddenly SJ was ashamed of herself. ‘I’m sorry. No, of course you haven’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
‘I think you’ve had a wake-up call,’ Tanya said gently. ‘Look, I’m sorry, too. I’m not judging you. Do you want to talk about it?’ As Tanya spoke, her mobile buzzed with a text and SJ felt a flash of relief as, momentarily distracted, her friend picked it up.
Now she’d started, she did want to talk, but the sense of unreality was back.
Was she really sitting here telling her best friend she had a drink problem?
She’d been drinking for years – they all did – it was the fabric of their social life.
A girlie chat over a lunchtime drink, a bottle of wine with dinner, a summer barbecue when Tanya and Michael were staying over and none of them were driving. How had it suddenly become a problem?
It hadn’t until she’d gone into SAADD. She wished fervently she could rewind this morning and go back to blissful ignorance. Everyone she knew drank loads – Kit would have a field day with some of her friends. They couldn’t all be alcoholics, could they?
Aware that Tanya had finished reading her text and was waiting for her to answer, she decided it was time to change the subject.
‘Who was texting you? Was it business or pleasure?’
‘Oh, just a friend.’ Tanya looked flushed, two bright dots of colour reddening her cheekbones, but before SJ could follow this up Tanya put her phone back in her bag. ‘We’re talking about you, not me. What else did they say? Are they going to tell your doctor?’
‘No. They couldn’t, even if they wanted to. I didn’t give them my real name.’
‘What did you say your name was then?’
‘Sarah Carter.’
Tanya raised her eyebrows incredulously. ‘Well, that’s okay then. No one can possibly work that out. Sarah-Jane is your name. And Carter’s your maiden name, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I’m not Sarah-Jane any more. No one calls me that except Mum. And I’m Crosse, not Carter. It’s different.’
‘Hmmm.’ Tanya shook her head. ‘Wouldn’t it have been better to tell them your name was Jess or Emma or something?’
‘Probably,’ SJ sighed. It was a rubbish alias.
She kicked off her shoes, which were trendy, but crippling.
They went with her Sarah Carter image. Cool city girl – someone who doesn’t have to try too hard.
Someone who doesn’t care too much – except the image, like the shoes, didn’t quite fit.
A shrink would have a field day with that.
Good job Kit wasn’t a shrink or she definitely wouldn’t have agreed to go back.
She realised she was already searching for a reason not to return.
Then she could forget all about this morning’s little chat which, as well as being cathartic, had brought some very unsettling feelings to the surface, and carry on as normal.
Well, she’d cut down, of course, but not quite as much as Kit had suggested – everyone knew the government guidelines were unrealistic.
‘Why don’t we head back to mine? It’s more private there and we can talk properly.’ Tanya’s voice was soft and SJ glanced wistfully at her glass and wondered whether she should suggest getting a bottle to take with them. It was much easier to talk about problems over a few glasses of wine.
‘Maybe I could get…’
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Tanya interrupted with a frown. ‘I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I encouraged you to get into even more trouble than you’re already in.’
‘Look, I’ve probably made this sound worse than it really is.’ SJ decided she’d prefer to go home after all. She had some nice cold Soave in the fridge. ‘They didn’t actually say I was an alcoholic – they didn’t even say I had to stop drinking.’
Tanya looked sceptical.
‘Anyway, what about your client? You can’t let him down. He’s relying on you.’
‘I’ll phone him. It’s not urgent. I’m going to help you out with this one, SJ. You won’t have to deal with it on your own.’ She gave a sweet smile of solidarity, which was probably meant to be reassuring but had the effect of making SJ reach for her fags as they got to the door.
‘I can catch up with work tomorrow,’ Tanya added, as they stepped out into the sun. ‘I think in the circumstances, this is more important, don’t you?’
SJ was about to say it wasn’t when Tanya touched her arm.
‘When I lost Maddie you were there for me, SJ. You were there every step of the way. Every hospital appointment, every phone call, even when I called you in the middle of the night.’
‘That was different. You were grieving.’
‘It was not different. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me and I… well, I wouldn’t have got through it without you.’
SJ swallowed. Tanya hardly ever mentioned Maddie – the baby she and Michael had longed for and planned and then lost when she was born three months prematurely.
And now, as she looked into her friend’s green eyes, she could see tears glittering.
She took a deep lungful of smoke, blew it out into the summer air and felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.
‘Okay, thanks. If you’re sure you don’t mind I’ll come back to yours. I could really do with a chat.’