Chapter 14 #2
‘Of course we’ll collect it, we’d be glad to.’ Tom put his elbows on the table and his chin on the back of his linked hands and leaned forward. ‘And I insist you let us pay for it, too, as our present.’
‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly.’
‘No, son, that’s not on. Not on at all.’
‘We’ll be offended if you turn us down, won’t we, SJ?’
She nodded. It was typical of Tom to make such a generous gesture. Perhaps they could drop off the wine and scarper. She wouldn’t feel so bad if they’d at least contributed to the event.
‘That’s a very nice offer, son, but you’ve a big mortgage to pay.’ Her father’s neck had turned red. ‘You can’t be going chucking money away on crates of wine. You’ll need your spare cash for the bank manager.’
‘Cases, Jim – it’s beer that comes in crates. Although I quite agree. We couldn’t possibly let you.’ It was funny how her mother’s accent got all posh when she was trying for a gracious refusal.
‘We’re not broke.’ Tom looked amused. ‘Didn’t SJ tell you I’ve just been promoted? I’m Global Account Director now.’
‘Global Account Director – are you? Well, I never… Sarah-Jane, why ever didn’t you tell us? We’d have bought a card…’ Her mother fiddled with the stem of her wine glass, looking pleased and embarrassed at the same time. ‘Well, I never. How about that, Jim? Global accounts. What does it mean, Tom?’
‘It means he has to work even harder,’ SJ said, leaning across to take Tom’s hand and just missing sending her glass – which was empty again – flying. How had that happened? ‘Maybe we should open a bottle of champagne, Tom, to celebrate properly with Mum and Dad?’
‘Well, I suppose we could.’ He didn’t sound as keen on the idea as she was. But when she stared at him pointedly he got up and went into the kitchen.
SJ followed him, partly to ask if he minded about the champagne, out of earshot of her parents, but mostly so she could slip out for a sneaky fag.
‘No, of course I don’t mind. It’s just I’m not sure who’s going to drink it. Your parents probably won’t want much more and I’ve had more than enough, to be honest, and…’
‘Don’t say it, Tom,’ she warned, leaning against the worktop to steady herself.
‘I’ve been cutting down all week. I’ve been a bloodeh saint.
’ She hoped her father wasn’t listening; he’d think she was taking the mickey.
‘Surely it’s okay for me to let my hair down at the weekend?
And I have just agreed to go to the party.
That was a very hard decissssion for me to make. ’ God, was she slurring her words?
Tom didn’t seem to notice. He disappeared to get the champagne and SJ persuaded Ash he fancied a stroll around the garden. It was quite light, considering it was gone ten. A full moon sailed above the trees and Ash looked like a ghost, silver and unearthly and incredibly graceful in the moonlight.
Suddenly SJ felt giddy with joy. It was fantastic that they’d moved here to this beautiful house with its glorious garden.
It was fantastic that Tom had been promoted.
The meal he’d cooked had been sublime. She was so proud of him, sitting there telling her parents in his modest understated way that he’d been made Global Account Director – and all because he was generous enough to want to buy the drink for their special do.
She was sure he’d never have mentioned it otherwise.
She was so pleased she’d got rid of Two-timing Jacob and married Tom.
At the thought of Jacob, a sliver of unease rose in her.
Hadn’t she thought Jacob was the love of her life, once?
No, she couldn’t have done, because she loved Tom.
Adored Tom. Beautiful Tom. She adored everyone at the moment.
Even Alison – because if her sister hadn’t set her sights on Jacob then she’d never have realised what a two-timing rat he was.
SJ spread her arms out wide and did a little dance around the shadowed lawn, whirling and twirling in step with an imaginary partner. It felt wonderful to be so sensible and mature and forgiving. Oh, yes, she could forgive anyone the way she felt now. She could forgive the whole bloodeh world.
Twirling and dancing, pirouetting and jumping, gliding and swirling with infinite grace below the stars – beautiful stars – so many of them.
She wondered if anyone had managed to count them properly without a telescope and how long it would take.
And then she wondered with a vague sense of awestruck astonishment why they seemed to be swapping places with the ground.
One moment they were as clear as little lights above her head and the next – curiously – they were below her feet.
She experienced a brief moment of confusion before something hit her hard in the face.
SJ stayed where she was, shocked and hurt and not sure what had happened because although she now seemed to be stationary, the world was still moving.
It must have been the ground that hit her.
The dank scent of earth filled her nostrils and she realised she was lying face down.
Warily, she rolled onto her back and immediately felt a concerned wet nose nudge her face.
‘Sorry, Ash.’ She moved her head and a glorious galaxy of stars spun with renewed brightness above her. What on earth was going on? Perhaps she was having some sort of religious experience.
This theory lasted as long as it took for her to realise she felt terribly unwell.
If she moved again she knew she would be sick.
Clamping her hands over her mouth she tried to stay still, but it was no good, everything was moving.
The lawn wouldn’t stay flat. SJ hated being sick, but it was coming anyway, rising inexorably in her throat.
She scrambled to her knees, some deep-rooted survival instinct murmuring insistently that it was not a good idea to vomit while lying flat on your back, however much the world was moving.
Flat on your back – supine – that was a good word, she thought distractedly, even as she threw up over and over again.
There was some part of her mind that was clear.
An impartial observer to her body, which was no longer under her control as it retched and heaved and retched some more beneath the velvet sky.
Being sick might not be good, it might not be dignified, but it was a marvellous relief, she realised, as at last her body was empty.
Her head throbbed in a continuous thump of pain, but at least the world had stopped moving.
And she was suddenly alone and shivering, on her knees in what turned out to be a flowerbed, not the grass.
Somewhere nearby a voice was calling. An anxious voice, her mother’s voice, over by the light that spilled from the back door. ‘Sarah-Jane, are you out there, pet? Only we’re going to make a move now. You’re not smoking out there, are you?’