by Della Galton
“Yeah.” And a smile, this time, to go with it.
“Are there things I can do to make it easier – in your experience?” This was better. Her sensible head, her professional head was back in control.
“Yes, there are things you can do. We can go through some of them now, if you like?”
“Yes, I would like.” She was full of conflicting emotions. It would be good to know she need never drink more than she’d planned to again – although there was another part of her that thought it would have been better if there was simply a pill you could take to prevent hangovers. If someone invented a pill like that they’d be a millionaire, billionaire, multi-billionaire even.
Perhaps some scientist somewhere was working on it at this very moment. Locked away in a white coat in some laboratory, and tomorrow’s headlines would be ‘Miracle Hangover Cure. Imagine the rest of your life without hangovers.’ Brilliant. Obviously it would be better if someone came up with a miracle cure for cancer or Aids, though.
“Cutting down is easier if you put some strategies into your life.”
“What sort of strategies?”
“Well…” He leaned back in his chair, utterly relaxed. “Things that delay you having that first drink – like, say – you could go to the gym of an evening.”
She thought about the joint gym membership she had with Tom before they got married. It had been bad enough then, squeezing herself into tight shorts and T-shirts and hoping her legs didn’t wobble like out-of-control blancmange on the running machine. She was two sizes heavier now. She swallowed.
“I don’t think gyms are my thing.”
“Have you got any other hobbies? Preferably things you can do in the evening as that seems to be your danger time. They’d be things you can’t do with a drink in your hand.”
“I teach one evening, as I said. I run a class called Poetry and a Pint.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound all that promising, I have to say.”
This time it was SJ who laughed. She was starting to warm to him again. And things couldn’t be too bad if she could find humour in the situation, surely. That must mean she wasn’t too far down the slippery slope. What a good job she’d realised she might one day have a problem while it was still soon enough to nip it in the bud.
Then he said something that brought reality crashing back into the room. “When you stop altogether, SJ, you’ll find it very useful to have these strategies in place.”
For a moment she thought she must have misheard. “What do you mean, stop altogether? I thought I was just cutting down.”
“The idea is that you gradually wean your body off alcohol. At the levels you’ve been drinking – and that’s if you’ve told me the truth…” That was a cheap shot – of course she’d told him the truth. “…Then you’ll have developed a certain tolerance. What I mean is that your body will be expecting a certain amount of alcohol.”
“I know what tolerance means,” she said huffily.
“Yeah, sorry – course you do.” He smiled and she could have sworn she saw little horns sprout on his head, whereas earlier there had been the distinct possibility of a halo.
She dragged him back to the question in hand – the important issue. The BIG issue. “Are you saying I have to stop – I mean stop altogether? No more alcohol ever again?”
After an imperceptible pause he nodded.
“You mean, not even at parties or if I’m celebrating, or if it’s someone’s birthday?”
Another nod.
“Not even if it’s MY birthday?” This was outrageous. She could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck in protest.
“I’m afraid not.”
“What about at Christmas?”
“Nope.”
“New Year?”
“Nope.”
“A girlie night out?”
“Nope.”
“You’re saying I can never drink anything again – EVER?”
“Yep.”
“Shit!”
He didn’t answer this, just continued to hold her gaze, his eyes serious.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure.”
A shadow had fallen across the room, velvet soft, like some great black shroud wrapping her tightly so it was difficult to breathe. She could feel her head dizzying with shock. She had to get the conversation back on an even keel. She hadn’t misheard him, so perhaps she’d misunderstood him. She was just trying to think of another way to ask the question when he pre-empted her.
“How does that make you feel?”
“Terrified,” she said without thinking.
“That’s what everyone says. But don’t worry about that now. All you need do for now is cut down.”
He glanced at the clock and she realised her hour was almost up.
“So this week, how about trying to restrict yourself to half a bottle a night. Do you think you can manage that?”
“No.”
“Give it a try.” He handed her another form and she reached for her bag to tuck it away before remembering with a jolt of embarrassment that it was safely out of reach behind the chair.
“Haven’t you got anyone else to see?” she said brightly, hoping he’d leave the room so she could retrieve it in private.
“No rush.” He gave her an odd look, as she leapt to her feet and edged backwards until she was pressed against the wall. She darted a frantic glance behind the chair – she could see her bag. Perhaps it would be possible to bend sideways unobtrusively and hook it out. If he would just turn his back on her for a few seconds, she was sure she could do it.
“Don’t let me hold you up. I’m sure there must be dozens of people queuing up outside.” She could hear the edge of panic in her voice.
Misinterpreting her motives to get rid of him, he said softly: “SJ, it’s not as difficult as it seems. I promise. Don’t worry about stopping. When the time comes, it won’t be half as bad as it looks now.”
“Right. Thanks.” It was no good. She was going to have to bite the bullet and go for it. She closed her eyes, leaned sideways, bent from the waist like an athlete doing warm ups and groped around for her bag with her right hand.
“Have you lost something?”
She opened her eyes to see that Kit was looking at her in amazement.
“Nope – not permanently. I’ve found it now.” She hauled out her bag and brushed a layer of dust off the leather. “How on earth did it get down there?” she said, smiling at him sweetly and tucking it under her arm.
He shook his head and shrugged, but not before she’d caught the fleeting look of incredulity he wasn’t quick enough to hide.
So that proved it – he obviously did think she was a complete fruit loop. All that nice counsellor stuff was a front – just as she’d suspected. Not that it mattered as this was the last time she was going to see him. Because at some point during the conversation they’d just had – she wasn’t sure whether it was when she’d inadvertently called Derek a bastard, or when he’d started laying down the law about never enjoying herself again – she’d made a decision. Nothing on earth would induce her to set foot in this place again.
Chapter Eleven
“How did it go? Are you okay? You’re ever so quiet.” Tanya’s voice broke into her thoughts and SJ sighed and dragged her gaze away from a point beyond the windscreen and the London streets that she’d been staring fixedly at ever since Tanya had picked her up.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. I was just thinking.” Remembering was closer to the mark. Just before she’d left S.A.A.D, Kit had stressed again that she didn’t have to discuss any problems that may have led to her drinking – but that she really should consider making another appointment, which she’d declined with a swift shake of her head. But it hadn’t stopped the memories flooding back, unbidden, as soon as she’d got out of the place.
She hadn’t thought about Derek, who’d been the love of her life – and also the hate of her life, i
f there was such a thing – for a very long time. And she was amazed how much it hurt. She could easily have broken down and wept, which was madness; she’d cried more than enough tears over Derek bloody Anderson.
“Well, you don’t look fine,” Tanya persisted relentlessly. “Where are we going for lunch?”
“Don’t you have to get back to work?”
“Yes, but not for a while. Mind you, I don’t think we’ll bother with a wine bar this week.” Tanya’s mobile buzzed to announce the arrival of another text and SJ remembered why she wasn’t going to confide in Tanya again. She knew she was being childish. Despite the fact she’d decided she didn’t need Kit’s help any more – or perhaps because of it – she felt terribly vulnerable and shaken up.
“I think I’d like to go straight home if it’s okay with you, Tanya.”
At least at home she could have a good cry in private and a large amount of wine now she’d decided she’d done with cutting down.
“SJ, stop shutting me out. I’m your best friend. I want to help.”
“I don’t need any help,” SJ sniffed. “I’m not some sad little charity-case you can fit in when you get a spare moment in your hectic schedule.”
“For fuck’s sake, is that how you see me?” Tanya slammed on the brakes and the car behind them blasted its horn in protest.
SJ had obviously touched a nerve. Tanya never said ‘Fuck’. SJ clung on to her seat belt as Tanya stalled the car, eliciting another horn blast of disapproval from behind, and rounded on her furiously. “Has it ever occurred to you that other people have problems too?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about your problems.”
“Perhaps that’s because they’re not mine to discuss.” Two pink blotches had appeared on Tanya’s angular cheekbones and her green eyes were glittery – whether with rage or hurt, it was difficult to tell.
“I’m sorry. What I said just now was totally out of order. I didn’t have a very good session, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you.”
“Apology accepted.” Tanya blinked, re-started the car, pointedly ignoring the furious driver behind her, and they set off once more.
“I really am sorry,” SJ said again, after a few moments’ tense silence, wishing she could stop apologising and, more importantly, stop saying things that meant she needed to apologise. “Whose problems are they then?”
“Michael’s.”
“Ah.” There didn’t seem much else to say and for a while they didn’t speak. After about ten minutes SJ noticed they’d just gone through Shoreditch, which was a weird way to go to her house, but it wasn’t until they hit Stoke Newington that she realised Tanya wasn’t taking her home.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Twenty minutes later they were driving alongside Epping Forest and SJ fantasised briefly that Tanya might know some gorgeous little pub and as she wasn’t working today she could have a very large glass of wine when she got there. But her hopes were dashed when about twenty minutes later Tanya drew into a Forestry Commission car park, beyond which was a picnic area set up with wooden benches and a brick-built barbecue, alongside a stack of beating equipment to put out fires.
“Er – any particular reason why we’re stopping here?”
“We’re going for a walk. I can think better when I walk and the exercise will do us good.”
SJ could think of a great many other things she’d far rather be doing – in fact, walking along some woodland path towards the middle of nowhere came somewhere at the bottom of her list of Great Ways To Spend My Day Off. But she could see Tanya was not in the mood to argue.
At least she had trainers on – unlike her friend. “Aren’t you going to find it awkward in those heels?”
“I’ve got some walking boots in the back.” Tanya flicked her a glance and SJ decided not to mention that smart suits weren’t perfect attire for walking either. For the first time since they’d met this morning she didn’t feel underdressed.
And also for the first time since they’d met that morning, she realised she was being utterly selfish. Tanya had taken time off work to bully her into keeping her appointment and she hadn’t even thanked her. As she followed Tanya along a path strewn with pine needles, she could see her navy pin-striped shoulders were stiff with tension.
“I’m not surprised you’re pissed off with me,” SJ called tentatively. “I’ve been a total cow.”
Tanya neither answered nor turned, but a few minutes later she slowed and then paused at a point where the path opened out into a glade. The trees were mostly oaks – gigantic and ancient, their old trunks velvet with moss and the odd bright patch of yellow fungi, and even though they were still quite close to the road, it was almost totally silent.
Tanya headed towards a fallen tree, its surface soft and rotten, and, heedless of her suit, slumped down on one end of it. “I’m not pissed off with you,” she replied belatedly. “Cross maybe, because you won’t let me help you…”
“I’m not the only one guilty of that, am I?”
“Touché.” Tanya stretched out her legs, stirring leaves with the toe of her boot. “And I know this probably seems a mad place to talk – but it’s peaceful and I like it. Michael and I sometimes come here for picnics.”
“I don’t think it’s a mad place at all. Ash would love it.”
Tanya smiled and ironically it wasn’t until she did that SJ noticed the fine lines of stress on her face because momentarily they’d softened.
“The other reason I brought you here,” Tanya went on, almost to herself, “is because no one’s likely to overhear us. I’m probably being paranoid but I didn’t want to take any chances. What I want to talk about – well, it must never go any further – and I mean NEVER.”
“Of course it won’t go any further,” SJ said gently, perching beside her on the moss-covered log and thinking she was right – this place embodied peace; it seeped out of the tree trunks. “It can’t be all that bad. A problem shared is a problem halved. Remember?”
“I’m afraid you’ll be shocked. And once I’ve told you I can’t take it back. You’ll always know and it will change the way you feel about Michael and that’s half the reason I haven’t told you about it before, to be honest. I don’t want you to change the way you feel about him. He’s still the same person.”
Feeling a deep sense of compassion because Tanya was obviously sick with worry, SJ touched her arm. “Don’t tell me if you’d rather not. But if you do, I promise I won’t be shocked.”
There was a small silence filled by the faint whispering of the wind through the summer leaves. Somewhere above their heads, claws scraped along a branch and a flutter of squirrel debris fell onto the forest floor.
SJ had just decided Tanya wasn’t going to say anything after all when she began to speak.
“I nipped home from work early, a few months back, and I found Michael in our bedroom dressed in my clothes. Well, when I say my clothes, what I actually mean is my undies.” She paused, her eyes begging SJ not to judge.
It was the last thing SJ had been expecting. She had a brief and vivid image of Michael in women’s underwear. How on earth had he managed to fit into anything of Tanya’s anyway? He wasn’t as big as Tom – he was quite lean, with hairy legs from what she remembered of the last time they’d all had shorts on – but even so, it was hard to picture him in delicate pink lace, or cream satin or a silk G-string. All of Tanya’s underwear was ultra feminine. Everything about Tanya was.
Blinking away the images, she chewed hard on her lip. It was one of those times when you absolutely must not laugh. Like when someone had just told you their beloved granny had died whilst doing a parachute jump at the age of 103. It was the most inappropriate response in the universe. Why was it that your mind led you along such dangerous tracks?
“You are shocked, aren’t you?”
SJ shook her head. She must not laugh. She MUST not laugh. She snorted at the effort of keepin
g it in.
Think very sad stuff, think you’ve just been told you’ve put on a stone since last slimming class, think you’ve just lost your job, think sad. Think SAD, for God’s sake. What was the matter with her?
She spluttered into her hands. It was passing. Thank heavens, it was passing. As long as Tanya didn’t say anything else for a moment or two, she could get herself back in control.
“SJ, are you laughing?”
“No.” The denial came out as a muffled squeak.
“It’s not bloody funny, you know. How would you feel if you found Tom wearing your bra and knickers?”
Oh God. That was even worse – hairy macho Tom in one of her beige under-wireds and a pair of M&S hold-you-in knickers. SJ snorted again, gave up trying to control herself, put her head between her knees and howled with mirth.
When she finally stopped, the air was so stiff with silence she thought Tanya might have abandoned her in the middle of the forest and gone home. Well, it was no more than she deserved.
She raised her head warily. Tanya was still sitting in the same position, her hands curled like a child’s in her lap. She was staring straight ahead and there were tears trickling down her face.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I know it’s not funny.”
Looking at Tanya’s stricken expression, she didn’t know how she’d ever wanted to laugh at all. She was such a bitch. She certainly wouldn’t have found it amusing if Tanya had laughed about her drinking.
“At least you’re not shocked,” Tanya said in a quiet blank voice. “I suppose that’s something.”
“No, I’m not. I’m intrigued.” SJ delved around in her memory bank for something more helpful to say. She’d never had any first hand experience of cross-dressing – it was probably one of the last taboos. If you were homosexual or a drug addict or an overeater, or if you were into spanking or wife swapping, you could probably raise the subject with your closest friends over a drunken dinner party without too much fear of being shunned, but cross-dressing was still a pretty tricky subject to bring up in polite conversation.
“Do you think maybe he was trying to get in touch with his feminine side?” she asked slowly. “I mean, Michael’s always been very sensitive, hasn’t he? The kind of man who doesn’t mind discussing his emotions. Not a bit like Tom, who’d rather chew off his own arm than tell you how he feels.”
