by Della Galton
“You’re looking well,” he said, as they sat with two steaming lattes in front of them. “So how’s life?”
God, he was gorgeous. She had to get a grip. Maybe this feeling was an after- effect of the euphoria she’d felt since leaving Tanya’s. She knew it wasn’t. It was down to him. Kit-induced euphoria – he’d always been able to evoke it by the bucket load – and he hadn’t lost the knack.
“I’m great,” she mumbled. “I’m fine – I’m…” She was never this tongue tied. “Absolutely great. How are you? Who’s your teddy for?” She knew she couldn’t have sounded more inane if she’d tried.
“My sister’s just had a little girl – Chloe – so I’ve become an uncle for the first time. I’m going over to see them later.”
SJ realised with a sense of wonderment that it was the first bit of personal information he’d ever told her about himself. This rather put things in perspective. How could you possibly be in love with someone you didn’t even know? It had to be infatuation.
Feeling better now she’d got that sorted out, she told him about Tanya. “I couldn’t choose,” she confessed, aware he was eyeing her bulging carrier curiously. They both laughed and, more relaxed now, she found herself explaining about the visit and how much it meant to her that Tanya had agreed to see her.
It was odd sitting opposite him somewhere other than S.A.A.D. The balance had shifted. For once, it wasn’t SJ who was doing all the talking. He seemed quite happy to talk about himself too when she prompted him. They drank their lattes and ordered more and SJ was amazed when she looked at her watch and discovered two hours had flown past. She glanced at him, but he didn’t seem anxious to leave. He hadn’t so much as checked his watch since they arrived.
“Can I ask you something?” she ventured, as the coffee shop emptied out around them. “Something personal, I mean?”
“Something else personal, you mean,” he corrected, but he was smiling so SJ carried on, encouraged.
“It’s a bit more personal than what we’ve been talking about so far. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“I won’t,” he said. “But go ahead. Try me.”
“When we first met I thought you might be a recovering alcoholic, like me – I mean, obviously not like me back then, because I was still a practising one. I mean like me now. But you’re not, are you?”
He gave a half shake of his head, but before he could say anything, she went on haltingly.
“Yet you seemed to know how I felt all the time. What I’d do – how things would pan out. All the feelings and stuff. How did you know all that? Did you just go on a good training course?”
“No. I didn’t need to.” He held her gaze, his dark eyes steady. “Cocaine was my choice of drug, SJ. But there were other things – let’s say I had a misspent youth. A distant misspent youth,” he added. “I stopped all that insanity – oooh, more than twelve years ago.”
“Ah,” she said, feeling a mixture of emotions. Pleasure that he’d trusted her enough to tell her now, and relief – which she decided was probably an odd reaction, but she’d have been terribly disappointed if he told her he’d just been on a training course and hadn’t really known how she felt.
“Thanks for being so open,” she said, feeling enormously touched.
“My pleasure.” He raised his eyebrows. “I think it’s possible to counsel addicts effectively without having been one yourself, but it’s easier if you’ve had some of the same experiences. There’s more identification.”
He leaned forward, put his chin in his hands and stared her out. “My turn to ask you something personal.”
“Sure, go ahead, although I shouldn’t think there’s much you don’t know about me already, is there?”
“Did you ever get things worked out with Tom? How’s married life, these days?”
SJ told him what she’d told Tanya and he nodded thoughtfully. “Are you seeing anyone else? Have you fallen for anyone in your meetings yet?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “I haven’t met anyone I wanted to fall for.”
Apart from you, she wanted to add. But she doubted he felt the same way. He was probably only being nice. He’d always been nice. And this catch-up chat was just a kind of unofficial extension to her aftercare plan.
“In that case, how do you fancy doing this again? Having coffee, I mean – say no if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended.”
“I do want to,” she blurted out before he decided to change his mind. “Very much. If you’re not too busy, I mean.” Bugger, where had all her hard earned self-respect gone? She’d almost bitten his hand off. “You’re not just asking me because you think it would be a good thing to do?”
“I’m asking you because I enjoy your company – I always have. But neither of us was in a position to meet socially before. It wouldn’t have been ... appropriate.”
As he spoke, he reached across and touched her hand, and she felt another million or so volts bolt up her arm.
“And you think it’s appropriate now?” Her voice was a husky whisper.
“It wouldn’t have been if you were still with Tom. Or if I hadn’t left S.A.A.D. But I’m not working there any more. They closed the place down a couple of months back – lack of funding.”
“But that’s awful. What about those…” She’d been going to say poor addicts, but instead she said, “…people who need to go there?” She didn’t feel like a poor addict any more.
“It’s not the only centre in London.” Kit smiled at her. “Don’t worry.”
“Are you working at another one now then?”
“No, I’m working at the homeless shelter in Hackney – I thought it was time for a change.” He coughed and went on uncertainly. “I couldn’t counsel you again, even if you wanted me to – being as I’m no longer in the profession. So it would be okay for us to meet again – socially, I mean. That’s if you wanted to?”
His fingers were still touching hers. It was incredible. Some good feelings at last – blotting out all the awful ones. She didn’t think she’d ever had such an amazing morning in her life.
“Then yes,” she added, looking up into his dark eyes and seeing herself reflected there. Not a small brown person any more, but a full size one – shiny and whole and strangely beautiful.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nightshades was the kind of club SJ wouldn’t have ventured into in the past unless she’d been extremely drunk. It was dimly lit, smelt of spilt beer and sweat, and had an air of relaxed seediness. Across the small stage at one end of the room, the word NIGHTSHADES was spelled out in pink and purple bulbs. SJ wondered why they’d left off the DEADLY. A couple of ancient paper chains and some threadbare silver tinsel draped over the stage were the club’s only concession to Christmas.
She glanced around. They were early and the place wasn’t as full as it would be later. A guy wearing a cowboy hat and a waistcoat lined with silver bullets sat at the nearest table, supping a pint. His face was a mass of piercings. He had three studs in his nose, a couple of rings in each eyebrow and another row in his upper lip. SJ wondered how he got on at airport security.
At the bar a couple of transvestites, one brunette, one blond, perched elegantly on stools. Both wore miniskirts and fishnet stockings and had scarlet nails. They were almost a cliché, SJ thought happily. They made Michael, who was sitting opposite her, look like a class act.
He looked comfortable dressed as Lizzie. The silver pencil skirt and black sequinned top suited him. His highlighted wig curled softly around his face. Blusher accentuated his high cheekbones and his eye make up was far better applied than SJ’s ever was. She was almost envious. Catching her gaze, he winked at her.
“You enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”
She nodded. “I never thought I’d say this, but yes, I’m having a great time. I’m looking forward to the main act. What’s her name again?”
“Sybil Starlight.” Tanya, who was beside her, grinned and leaned ac
ross to squeeze her fingers. “Are you really okay? You’re not finding it too tricky being surrounded by people drinking?”
“It’s okay at the moment.” SJ glanced at Tanya’s glass of orange juice and wondered if it was a concession to her.
“If I get tempted to down Michael’s wine, I’ll nip outside and grab myself a lungful of traffic fumes, don’t worry.”
“I’m really proud of you,” Tanya said, her green eyes soft, and SJ swallowed. She was proud of herself, too. A whole fifteen months without a drink. A whole fifteen months during which she’d survived the end of a marriage and managed to move her relationship with her family, even Alison, on to a much more satisfying level. Well, Alison wasn’t actually talking to her at the moment – they’d had a fight over a pair of Calvin Klein jeans that had been reduced to £10 in TK Maxx. But SJ had seen them first by a whisker – and she was more broke than Alison. And it was hardly her fault if Alison wanted to sulk for a fortnight.
At least she was getting on well with Kevin and Sophie, who seemed to like having a dire-warning for an aunt.
SJ felt strong. She no longer feared what the future would bring. She no longer wanted to blank out difficult feelings. She was comfortable in her own skin. Like Michael, she thought, shooting him a glance. They had both grown into their new identities.
“I’m proud of you, too,” she told Tanya. “It hasn’t been an easy couple of years, has it? When did you change your mind about coming to places like this?”
“Very recently.” Tanya raised her eyebrows. “I feel a lot more secure than I used to – I know we’re going to be okay.” She gestured around them. A few more men had drifted in – the dress code ranged from ripped jeans normality to pink lace and feather boa outrageousness. SJ saw one guy who was dressed completely in black leather, but wore the most beautiful pair of jewelled stilettos she had ever seen.
“This is less serious than going round someone’s house – everyone goes a bit mad at Christmas, don’t they?” Tanya’s eyes sparkled. “Oh God, I can’t possibly keep this to myself any more. We haven’t told a soul yet, SJ, because it’s very early days, but I’m pregnant again.”
“Oh, Tanya, that’s fantastic news.” They leaped to their feet and hugged. “You must be over the moon.”
“We are. I thought it would never happen again. After Maddie, after all those miscarriages, all those tests.”
SJ could feel Tanya trembling a little in her arms. “It’s the best news I’ve heard in months. I won’t tell a soul.”
“I know you won’t.”
SJ blinked rapidly. Over Tanya’s shoulder she saw Michael cotton on to their conversation and raise his glass in their direction.
“I know we’re a bit unconventional – as parents go.” There was nervous laughter in Tanya’s voice, and SJ knew she had her fears for the future – her doubts and her insecurities. “But I also know we’ll get through. We love each other. We can get through anything.” She took a sip of her orange as they sat back in their seats. “I’m just sorry you didn’t have the same support from Tom.”
“It was different for us. I didn’t love Tom in the first place. I hadn’t got over Derek. I couldn’t love anybody. Not even myself. And once he knew how I felt, what would have been the point in staying with me?”
“But he walked away at the first sign of a problem, SJ. If you hadn’t been an alcoholic he might have stayed.”
SJ shook her head, even though she knew she would never talk Tanya round on this one. Rather ironically, considering all that had happened – Tanya was a conventionalist when it came to marriage.
“I’m glad I’m an alcoholic,” she said truthfully. “Well, a recovering one anyway. I know myself better because of it. I know who I am and what I want.”
“Talking of what you want,” Tanya muttered, raising her eyebrows, “how’s that gorgeous man of yours?”
SJ smiled. “He’s not mine,” she said, feeling suddenly shy.
“But you are still bringing him round for dinner on Boxing Day?” Tanya pressed, her eyes sparkling.
“Of course.”
“Good, because we’re really looking forward to meeting him. Was it just chestnuts you said he didn’t like?”
“Yes, but he said not to worry if you’re putting them in the stuffing. He’ll just skip the stuffing.”
She and Kit had had a very interesting discussion about stuffing after that conversation, SJ reflected, which had nothing whatsoever to do with chestnuts. She felt her neck turning pink at the delicious warmth of the memory.
“Here’s Sybil Starlight,” Michael observed, as a drag queen in impossibly high heels and a long black dress covered with glittering silver stars tottered onto the small stage.
The crowd roared in appreciation. SJ smiled at Michael at the same moment as Sybil began to strut her stuff, swinging her hips provocatively before launching into an old Beatles song: With A Little Help From My Friends.
That was appropriate, SJ thought, as Sybil sang on in her gloriously husky voice. You didn’t get far without your friends: your real friends, that was – the ones who forgave you and loved you and accepted you for what you were. She knew exactly what Dorothy had meant now about real friendships being forged in hell. Friendships that could withstand the extremes of pain and come through still shining were the strongest friendships of all. They had to be.
The song ended to rapturous applause and Sybil launched into her next number. It was a long while before it was quiet enough to speak again.
When Tanya and Michael were up dancing, SJ sneaked outside for a fag – she’d thought no one had seen her go but when she lifted her head from lighting it, she saw Tanya had followed her out.
“You shouldn’t come near me when I’m smoking, it’s bad for the baby,” she cautioned.
“If I stay in there she’ll be born deaf,” Tanya said, “so it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.”
“It wasn’t something else about Kit, was it? You’re going to meet him in less than forty-eight hours…”
“It was nothing to do with Kit,” Tanya said, as SJ blew smoke in the direction of Big Ben, whose lit-up face was just visible above the roof tops.
“It was about you. What you said earlier about being glad you’re a recovering alcoholic. Is that how you really feel?”
“Mmm, yeah, it is actually. I’m always honest about how I feel these days – that’s Kit’s fault.”
Tanya nodded thoughtfully. “I was on the internet earlier looking at some statistics. Did you know that there are over a hundred million alcoholics in the world – give or take?”
“No,” SJ said. “Shit. Are there?”
“Yes there are – and only a million of them will ever recover.”
SJ shivered and Tanya narrowed her green eyes. “Do you know what that makes you, SJ?”
“Haven’t a clue,” SJ said, with a lot more flippancy than she felt. Was she about to get some dire warning about the dangers of relapse? Would Tanya ever really truly trust her again? She could see that her friend was blinking away tears and when she finally spoke, her voice was husky.
“It makes you one in a million, Sarah-Jane Crosse! That’s what it makes you.”
If You’ve Enjoyed This Book…
I hope you’ve enjoyed this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Lots of love
Della
Acknowledgements
Janine Pulford, Jan Smiles, Jan Wright, Mel, Duncan Mac, Ian Burton, David Kendrick, Cathy Kendrick, Richard Jeffries, Peter Jones, Alison Neale, the proof fairy and especially to my long suffering agent, Becky Bagnell. Many thanks guys; your help and advice was amazing.
Also Available:
Shadowman
One of several novellas by Della Galton.
Now available as an ebook, and in paperback
Karen and Rob's show-jumping yard is in trouble. And so is their marriage.
Then someone starts sending anonymous letters. They seem to have an enemy who is determined to wreck their lives, but who? Is it a vindictive stranger or could it be someone closer to home? Karen is determined to find out before she loses everything she loves.
Visit amazon to
buy the book
and view all of Della’s Novellas at
www.DellaGalton.co.uk
Shadowman - Chapter One
It was a beautiful day. Autumn was just beginning to steal across the forest, turning the trees shades of red and gold, but I shivered as I leaned on the five bar gate that separated our land from the tangle of woodland that lay beyond. I had to talk to Rob again. Find a way to make him understand how worried I was that if we didn’t do something soon, we were going to lose all that we’d worked for. It wasn’t going to be easy. Rob and I didn’t have the same attitude to money. I was used to having a nest egg in the bank - I needed the cushion of financial security. Rob had an easy come, easy go attitude. To everything, I was beginning to think.
