Chapter 30
Tom’s voice was the first one she heard, closely followed by her mother’s. ‘Whatever’s happened? Is that you, Sophie?’
Light flooded the room and SJ closed her eyes, working on the principle that if she couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see her. This worked for all of thirty seconds. Then she felt hands on her shoulders.
‘SJ, for heaven’s sake. Are you drunk?’ Tom’s voice was edged with panic.
‘Courshe I’m not drunk.’ Batting his hands away, she sat up, which was a mistake as the room started to spin.
‘Someone moved the drawers,’ SJ protested, stumbling to her feet, but no one took any notice. She could hear her mother berating Sophie and whoever the poor girl was in bed with.
‘It’s disgraceful behaviour, my girl. Your mother is going to be very disappointed. You should be studying for your GCSEs.’
What on earth did GCSEs have to do with anything, SJ thought, as she bent to gather up beads and scent bottles?
‘I’m really sorry. This is all my fault.’ She’d been about to say she thought Alison was trying to seduce Tom, but she’d caused enough mayhem already.
As Tom and her father heaved the chest of drawers into an upright position once more, SJ noticed the mirror was cracked.
A diagonal line zigzagged across the middle and she caught a glimpse of her rumpled reflection.
Distorted and ugly. Her hair had come loose from its chignon and her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes.
The all-day lipstick that Tanya had recommended was the only part of her that still looked pristine, which proved what a good liar lipstick could be.
‘Do you think we’d better go?’ she asked Tom.
‘I think we’d better get you sobered up,’ he said with a quiet sigh.
* * *
SJ and Tom were sitting in the conservatory, sipping coffee.
To her immense relief, no one else at the party seemed to have noticed anything amiss.
There was a lot of drunken chatter going on and one or two people smiled in her direction.
SJ smiled back happily. She couldn’t have upset too many people then.
With a bit of luck, no one except her immediate family would ever find out about the little incident upstairs.
The only thing that was slightly puzzling was that it was now ten thirty.
So she’d lost a couple of hours somewhere.
How very odd. She had a sudden vivid image of talking to Auntie Edie, who at this moment was snoring in the cane chair across the other side of the room, an almost empty gin bottle at her side.
Fragments of their conversation bounced into her head.
‘Hello, love, one for the road?’ Auntie Edie looked up at her through bloodshot eyes.
‘I probably shouldn’t,’ SJ murmured, sneaking a quick glance over her shoulder to see where Tom was.
Struck with a sudden brainwave, she held out her coffee cup for the gin.
‘Oh, go on then – just to keep you company.’
Tom would think she was still safely drinking coffee. What an excellent plan. Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? What was the point of being an alcoholic if you didn’t have some sneaky back-up plans in place?
Puzzled, SJ looked back at the still snoring Aunt Edie.
When exactly had that conversation taken place?
She didn’t recall talking to Edie at all this evening, apart from when she’d first arrived.
She didn’t recall being in the conservatory either until now.
She took another sip of coffee. Definitely coffee, and not gin.
Perhaps she’d imagined it. Disorientated, she glanced through the connecting doors into the lounge.
A pair of red balloons, one half deflated, lay forlornly by the door and another fragment of memory flicked into her mind.
She’d been standing in front of the decimated buffet table, which looked as though a horde of hungry pigs had descended on it and had a good snout around.
All that was left were a few egg and cress sandwiches with curling edges.
Funny how egg and cress sandwiches were always the last to go.
SJ scooped them up and ate them. Pity about the salmon – salmon was her favourite.
Oh, well. There were a couple of pieces of Alison’s vegetarian quiche left too.
She ate these and felt almost normal again, although she was aware that it took a long time to get back to her chair.
And no sooner had she settled down back in it than one of her mother’s Cats Protection League friends came into the room with a plate held aloft.
‘Mushroom vol-au-vent, SJ?’ She smiled as she strolled across the terracotta carpet. ‘There’s not much else left, I don’t think.’
Tom shifted beside her and she was jolted back to the present. Perhaps she should go and check the buffet table and see if she’d imagined that bit too. But she wasn’t sure she could walk in a straight line.
Instead, she slipped her fingers into his. ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’
His hand felt tense and he didn’t meet her eyes.
‘What do you think?’ What was that supposed to mean?
Why did he have to answer a question with a question?
Life would be a lot less confusing if people were more honest with each other.
Honesty was a good thing – a very noble and lovely thing.
No one should have guilty little secrets eating them up from the inside out.
If more people were honest about their innermost thoughts and feelings then the world would be a much happier place.
* * *
The next thing she was aware of was being in the kitchen at twenty to twelve, surrounded by a circle of her family. Tom, Mum and Dad, Alison, Sophie – even the errant Noah was there.
He was hoodless now, and minus both fag and pint of lager.
SJ focused on him with difficulty and tried to pick up the thread of conversation.
They’d obviously all been talking about something, but she had no idea what.
She felt disorientated – as if she’d just woken up, but she couldn’t have just woken.
She was standing up. It was very disconcerting.
Noah looked like he was drinking orange juice. Probably a cover; you could hide all sorts in orange juice. SJ gave him a wobbly smile and decided to err on the side of humour. ‘I bet there’s gin in that orange, isn’t there, love?’
Noah, who had the same blue eyes as his mother and sister, didn’t smile back. No one was smiling. They were all looking at her with quiet sorrow in their eyes. Or was it sympathy? SJ began to feel uncomfortable. What was going on? She’d obviously missed something.
Tom, who was closer than anyone else, ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
‘I’m really sorry. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do with her. I just don’t know what to do about all this.’
‘Don’t you worry yourself about it now, Tom.
It’ll all seem brighter in the morning. You can sort it out properly then – work things out between you.
I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.’ That was her mother, and it took SJ a few seconds to realise they must be talking about her.
She glanced at Tom in puzzlement. All she’d done was ask Noah if he had gin in his orange – it was hardly the crime of the century.
She opened her mouth to say something else and then, to her dismay, the cupboard she was leaning against moved sideways violently and she found herself on the kitchen floor with her head wedged against the fridge.
A magnet of Blackpool Tower lay alongside her nose and she was aware of her mother’s voice.
‘Oh dear, oh dear. You could stay, Tom, if it’s easier. I don’t want her to be sick in your nice car.’
Charming. She didn’t even feel sick. ‘I’m not drunk…’ she began, as the words ebbed and flowed somewhere above her. ‘I haven’t touched a drop for three hours.’
Or at least that’s what she wanted to say.
She wasn’t sure she’d managed to get the words out.
Her head was pressed against something hard.
Frowning, she concentrated on focusing her eyes once more.
Success. She could see a collection of fluff in between the fridge and the sink unit, and what looked like a pea that must have rolled under there.
An escapee pea. There was a pun there somewhere.
An escapea, no less. SJ giggled at her own wit, and entertained herself with visions of it hopping off her father’s plate, just before it was about to meet its maker and rolling under the fridge to hide.
And now the poor little pea was all alone – all alone with the dust and the fluff on the kitchen floor.
A refugee pea. No, a refupea – no, that didn’t have the same ring to it. Suddenly the pea’s fate struck SJ as terribly, terribly sad. No doubt it had thought it was off to a new and better life, but had ended up in the darkness all alone.