Chapter 31 #2
‘Yeah – it sounds stupid, doesn’t it? But methinks the lady doth protest too much. See you later, SJ. Your head should have cleared a bit by then and we can have a proper chat.’
He unlatched the front door and she made another grab for his arm. ‘Tom, please? Wait. I just need you to listen to me for a minute. Please?’
Barely glancing at her, he shook her off, more forcibly this time. ‘I’ve had enough of listening to you. I thought I’d made that clear.’ The front door slammed in her face.
Shocked, she fumbled to get it open again.
Her fingers weren’t working properly. Neither were her legs.
It was like being in one of those dreams where she was trying to run from the baddies and her feet were stuck in mud.
By the time she got the door open Tom was already in his car, the engine running.
She tripped down the last step, only partially regaining her balance and almost falling, putting out her hands to save herself. ‘Fuck it.’
Tom gave her a look of such disdain that, even from behind glass, it froze her into stillness.
‘Wait,’ she shouted, straightening up, brushing gravel from her hands, but he was already reversing out onto the road and driving away.
She ran back inside, adrenaline sharpening her movements. Where was her phone? She had to phone Tanya. She had to warn her that Tom was coming to see Michael.
She finally found her phone in the bottom of her bag. There were three missed calls from Dorothy. Shit. She wasn’t looking forward to talking to Dorothy. With sweating fingers she pressed Tanya’s number.
‘The mobile you have phoned is switched off.’ Shit, shit, shit!
They didn’t answer the landline very often but she tried it anyway, listening to it ring and ring, visualising Michael looking at Tanya. ‘Are you going to get that?’
‘No. Leave it. It’ll just be someone trying to sell us something.’ And then she realised they wouldn’t be there anyway. Or at least Michael wouldn’t. He would meet Tom at the sports centre. Tanya often went with him for a swim.
Maybe a WhatsApp. No, she couldn’t possibly explain this in a WhatsApp.
She would have to drive over to the sports centre.
She would be over the limit but hey, how much worse could it get?
No one was likely to stop her. She could drive in a straight line.
She hoped she could drive in a straight line.
Her car keys weren’t on the hook. Where the hell were her car keys? She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d driven her car.
They weren’t in her bag, or in the pockets of any coat she could remember wearing lately – and time was running out.
Tom had been gone ten minutes. He would nearly be at the centre.
He would stroll in and Michael would smile at him, all unsuspecting, blithely unaware that his most private and intimate secret was about to be chucked rudely in his face.
Sweet gentle Michael. SJ couldn’t bear it.
Breath catching in her throat, she began to sob.
Blurting out the intimacies of her best friend’s marriage was unforgivable.
Tanya had trusted her implicitly and she’d let her down.
Not just let her down, she had betrayed her.
The best friend she had ever had. She might just as well have stabbed her in the heart.
In fact, Tanya would probably have found that less painful.
Still sobbing, she sank to her knees on the floor by the front door. She hadn’t thought she could feel any worse than when she’d opened her eyes an hour earlier, but she did. She felt worse than she’d ever felt in her life.
She had let everyone down. She would never be able to make up for the hurt she’d caused.
Tom would never forgive her. Tanya and Michael certainly wouldn’t.
She didn’t even dare think about the damage she’d done to the rest of her family.
She visualised Dad punching Clive, if he hadn’t already, and Alison’s marriage breaking up, Alison’s business collapsing and her being a pauper for the rest of her life.
SJ didn’t feel quite so badly about Alison being a pauper or losing her marriage, but it would be devastating for the kids.
But the worst thing was that SJ knew she’d never be able to forgive herself. The future yawned ahead of her like a massive, accusatory black hole and she knew she couldn’t face it.
She couldn’t stand the pain. Not for another hour, not for another second.
Getting unsteadily to her feet, she went back to the lounge.
Tom had bought a new bottle of Gordon’s last week.
She had no idea why – he didn’t even drink gin, and she’d given up.
But she’d blown that one, hadn’t she? Just like she’d blown everything else in her life.
Locating it, she unscrewed the lid. It was amazing how something that looked so much like water could be so lethal.
There was enough in there to knock her halfway to oblivion.
Maybe all the way. She hesitated, feeling strangely detached.
How many glasses would it take to get her to oblivion?
On autopilot, her movements stiff and jerky like a puppet’s, she began to take out glasses and line them up on the drinks cabinet.
Four crystal tumblers, two pewter tankards, five little shot glasses Tom used for whisky chasers if ever he was in the mood, and one commemorative glass. Sarah-Jane and Tom, on their wedding day, August 2023.
She lined them up in order of size, smallest first. And then she began to fill them with gin.
It reminded her of the dolls’ tea parties she and Alison used to have as kids.
They had a red plastic tea set back then and they’d used water, not tea, and they would argue over who got the biggest teacup.
But gin was far better than either water or tea and, best of all, Alison wasn’t here to argue about who got what.
Alison wasn’t going to get her hands on any of these glasses.
They were all for her. All for SJ. Finally, she had found something that Alison couldn’t get her hands on.
She’d rather short-changed the last glass but she didn’t suppose that mattered. She also had a thumping headache – but that didn’t matter either. Gin was the oldest painkiller in the world. That was what they said, didn’t they?
Oblivion – right then. With the same curious sense of detachment, she picked up the first glass.
It was one of the shot glasses. Its contents were gone in a heartbeat.
SJ reached for the next glass. Gin wasn’t very nice neat.
It was much better with tonic, but she didn’t think they had any.
And after a while she couldn’t taste it anyway.
Oblivion. Death. Whichever came first. She just wanted out.
She wondered how long it would take.