Ice and a Slice

by Della Galton

  Tanya rested her chin on her hands and looked interested and concerned simultaneously. “And did they put your mind at rest?”

  “No, they seemed to think I was right. I am drinking too much.”

  “So what did they suggest?”

  “That I cut down.” SJ stared at her empty glass and wished she didn’t want a refill quite so badly.

  “That’s going well then.” Tanya gave her a wry smile. “Do you want to cut down?”

  “Not at this particular moment, no. What I really want to do is get absolutely blotto. I think it’s the stress. It was a shock finding out that I might have – you know – a problem.”

  “Why did you go there in the first place?”

  “Because over the weekend when Tom was away I got a bit drunk – well actually I got very drunk. And then I couldn’t remember what happened. It was awful.”

  “Oh, you poor darling.” Tanya’s voice was all concern, which made it worse. “We’ve all been there, you know. It’s the kind of thing that happens at parties. You get carried away and don’t realise how much you’ve drunk. It doesn’t mean you’re an alcoholic.”

  “I wasn’t at a party.” SJ could feel her face heating up, but now she’d started she wanted Tanya to know the whole story – well, nearly the whole story. “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?”

  “No,” Tanya said quietly. “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 when I finished it I opened another one. 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.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I think I went to the loo and then I finished the wine – well, maybe not all of it. There was about a glass left.” She hadn’t told Kit that little snippet, she thought with a stab of guilt. That had certainly been more than a fourteen-unit night. Mind you, she’d felt too ill to drink much 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...” SJ hesitated, wondering whether to tell Tanya what else had happened. No, she couldn’t. It had been awful enough first time round; she didn’t fancy reliving it. Not now. Preferably never.

  “What does Tom say about it?”

  “I don’t think he’s noticed. He’s never said anything. I didn’t tell him I was going to that place today.”

  “Will you tell him tonight when he gets in from work?”

  “Yeah, I guess. If he gets back 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 soul mate 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. What on earth was the matter with her? She swallowed hard, the longing for another drink increasing. 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 might even 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.

  “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 that place, she reminded herself. In fact, if she hadn’t made the appointment it still wouldn’t be a problem. 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 its case and slipped it into her bag. “We’re talking about you, not me. Come on, give. I want to know what happened. What else did they say? Are they going to tell your doctor?”

  “No way. 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 – well, no one 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 Debbie or Carol or something?”

  “Probably,” SJ said miserably, thinking that Tanya was right and 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 in a suit would have had a field day with that. Good job Kit wasn’t a shrink in a suit 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 nodded, glanced wistfully at her glass and wondere
d 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 muttered, deciding she’d actually prefer to go home after all. She had some nice cold Chardonnay in the fridge and it was calling to her. “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?” SJ asked, frantically changing tack. “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.”

  Chapter Four

  Talking had been good, SJ thought, as she left the crowded tube station later that afternoon and walked the last part of her journey home through the beginning of the rush hour.

  She and Tanya had been friends for what must be coming up twenty years, but she’d never been as frank with her friend as she’d been today – and knowing Tanya would never divulge her secret, not even to Michael, had strengthened the bond between them. It was an ‘us against the world’ feeling, similar to the one she’d had when she’d become blood sisters with the girl next door when she was ten.

  Tom’s car wasn’t in the drive, SJ noticed as she reached their house. Climbing up the marble steps that led to the front door, she let herself in. Not that she’d really been expecting him to be home. He’d said he’d probably have to work late when he’d left this morning.

  Ash was in his favourite position, on his blanket by the range cooker, and he thumped his tail lazily, but didn’t bother getting up to greet her.

  “Garden,” she told him, unlocking the back door. “Come on, you lazy lump – out.”

  Yawning, he stretched and reluctantly strolled across the kitchen, blinking and pausing for a head-stroke when he reached her. He was old now for a greyhound; they didn’t know exactly how old because he’d been second-hand. “Dumped on the North Circular,” the dogs’ home had explained when SJ and Tom had chosen him. But his soft grey muzzle was flecked with white, and he’d developed a little paunch lately – too many titbits, probably; he was a terrible scrounger and she couldn’t resist his melting brown eyes. Still, everyone was entitled to a little paunch when they got older, weren’t they?

  Thinking about it, she was getting one herself. That was another thing that hit you when you got past thirty-five – although actually she was only thirty-six. It got harder and harder to keep off the weight, especially round the tummy, which was her weak point. She’d been as thin as a racing snake when she was younger, but now she was size fourteen (on a good day). Fortunately she was tall so it didn’t look too bad. Although she had noticed lately if she told someone she was planning on going on a diet they didn’t look amazed and say, “Don’t be silly, SJ, you don’t need to watch your weight, there’s nothing of you,” as people had done when she was younger. Well, apart from her mum, who was also tall and had to go to Evans for most of her clothes. But mums didn’t count – they saw you with ‘mother eyes’, not objective ones.

  Perhaps she could try slimming club again. She’d had to give up on it last time because the only way she could keep within the calorie allowance and still drink was to eat virtually nothing at all. But if she was going to cut down the wine, then it might be feasible. She could actually get to eat something this time and still lose weight. Another advantage of not drinking so much. Ha – she’d be slim and a millionaire. Wasn’t there a saying about that – something like you can never be too thin or too rich? SJ had never cared much about money, but it would be lovely to rediscover her hip bones.

  From the doorway she watched Ash cock his leg leisurely on the forsythia and marvelled at the size of the bladder he must have. He only ever went in the garden if she made him, and then he could wee for a good sixty seconds non-stop and not need to go again until the next day. She lit a fag and went outside to join him. She’d promised Tom she would give up smoking this summer, but she hadn’t quite managed it yet.

  Behind Ash, the sun cast a golden light across the rose-trellised arch that led up to the furthest reaches of their narrow, but beautifully secluded long garden. The garden was one of the things that had sold them this place. It was big for a town house garden and was an oasis of tranquillity, edged by rose bushes and surrounded by hedges and mature trees that shut out the prying eyes of neighbours.

  There was a wooden summer house with its own patio in the middle section that you couldn’t even see from the house, and at the far end a lily pond lay in the shadow of a willow tree. When they’d first come to view the place, they’d stepped out of the back door and been captivated. Tom had put his arm around her and said, “Think of us coming back from a hard day’s work to this place, SJ, and sitting outside the summer house with a nice bottle of wine – what could be better? Our own little garden of Eden.”

  And she’d leaned against the solid, secure bulk of him and thought, yes, a Garden of Eden. It would have been better, of course, if Adam had actually been present a little more often, as opposed to Eve having to flit around Eden by herself, but you couldn’t have everything. Tom was busy working – he was trying to get a promotion. It wouldn’t be forever.

  “Good boy,” she praised Ash, before wandering back inside and reaching absently for a wine glass from the old fashioned oak dresser – there was nothing to stop her having a glass of wine on her own. On second thoughts, perhaps she’d better not start just yet – what was it she’d agreed with Kit? The form he’d given her was in her bag; she and Tanya had been discussing it earlier.

  “Why have you got to put all your thoughts and feelings down on it?” Tanya had asked curiously. “Why would they want to know all that stuff? I thought they just wanted to know how much you drink.”

  “They’re trying to establish whether your drinking follows a pattern,” SJ explained. “To see if there are trigger points – certain emotions you’re trying to avoid by drinking. You know – all that ‘unresolved issues’ stuff I studied in psychology. Which there aren’t in my case, obviously. I just like the stuff. Like any busy person. It’s relaxing, isn’t it?”

  “How about unresolved issues with Alison?” Tanya had asked with one of her irritating ‘raised eyebrows’ looks.

  “Everyone has unresolved issues with their sister. It’s par for the course.”

  “I don’t.”

  Luckily, Tanya’s mobile had buzzed with another text at that point – s
he seemed to get an awful lot of them. By the time she’d read it and switched it off, the unresolved-issues-with-your-sister moment had passed.

  Now SJ retrieved the creased form from the bottom of her bag and stared at it. She’d agreed to drink no more than three quarters of a bottle of wine a night. Hmmm, well that shouldn’t be too difficult; she had exactly that amount of Chardonnay in the fridge left over from yesterday.

  Earlier, she’d told Kit this when he’d asked what she was going to do with the left over quarter bottle.

  Neither of them had mentioned she’d have the same problem the night after, but that was probably because it was so obvious. She’d just put the unfinished quarter back in the fridge – easy!

  She glanced at her watch – still only six thirty-five. It was going to be a long night at this rate. She’d have to do something to distract herself. There wasn’t much point in cooking dinner yet. Tom was unlikely to be home before nine. Perhaps she could take Ash for a stroll up to the park.

  That was another thing she liked about living just north of the river – the surfeit of parks to walk Ash. Hampstead Heath was a stone’s throw away – in the mornings the car park was choc a block with the transit vans of commercial dog walkers, exercising their city charges – and there was another smaller park in the opposite direction that didn’t tend to get quite so busy.

  Maybe she could take him there now before dinner. She pictured herself power walking around the exterior while Ash dawdled on a sniffing bonanza, which was his favourite thing in the world to do. Bloody hell, she felt virtuous. An evening of exercise and abstinence, at this rate she’d have no vices left. Apart from the fags, of course. She seemed to have got through rather a lot this afternoon. Oh well, she could power walk back via a detour to the corner shop to restock. Good plan.

  When she got back with a slightly surprised and panting Ash – he wasn’t used to power walks - it was still only just gone eight. SJ grabbed a ready meal for two from the freezer and put it on a baking tray in the oven. As she straightened up, she just missed knocking herself out on Tom’s latest acquisition, an earthenware pub jug that he’d hung on a brass hook just to the left of the oven. He was a fanatical hoarder of breweriana – his beer mat collection was huge, and he was forever picking up bits of old pub junk to add to his collection.