Page 35 of Forgive Me Not
‘You’re having a laugh, right?’
‘I can’t live anywhere that’s got alcohol. Or you’ll have to hide it.’
‘So you expect me to give it up?’
‘Only at home. If that’s so much of a problem, perhaps you need to ask yourself why.’
‘How dareyoutry to give me advice?’
‘Say what you like, Phil. I’ve been rejected by those closest to me, so you can’t hurt me any more.’
He broke eye contact. ‘I’ll drink at home if I damn well want to.’
‘If I see it, I’ll be moving out.’
‘Don’t forget I’ve got your money up front.’
‘So for the sake of not drinking you’d throw out a lodger? Doesn’t that ring alarm bells?’
‘You’re a fine one to talk.’
‘I am. Because I’ve been there. I threw everything away and ended up in the gutter. Don’t follow my example. Because believe me, it’s no picnic trying to get back those things of value.’
‘I’ve already lost Sheila.’
‘And now you have two choices. You can wallow in self-pity. Stop fighting for your business. Go under. Or, like Sheila, you can build a new life. Why not prove you’re stronger than me, Phil, and start to make changes before it’s too late?’
Months of treatment had made her used to saying it how it was. Social niceties had often been bypassed.
‘We used to get on, didn’t we? Me working here with you and Sheila? We had laughs. You even invited me and Bligh to dinner once.’ She gave a small smile. ‘I felt really grown up.’
‘Yeah, so grown up you vomited in our front garden on your way home.’
A tide of heat rose up her neck as she picked up her bag. ‘Bligh will be dropping off some paint later. How about we freshen up this place? And a while back I met someone on the streets who used to co-own a pet shop. I’ve got some ideas – if you want them – that might bring in business.’
‘What… and then we’ll become friends again and everyone will clap you on the back and say how much you’ve changed?’ He folded his arms. ‘Are you crazy? People don’t forgive and forget. Life’s not like that. That’s why I’m on my own now.’
He disappeared out to the back. Emma closed her eyes for a moment and then followed him, dumping her belongings in the hallway and going into the kitchen. It was small. Pine. There were no curtains at the window, and empty hooks stood out from the walls. Clearly he’d not replaced a thing since Sheila left. The room lacked her singing. The notes of her flowery perfume. The homely smell of the bread she loved baking. The sink was filled with dirty mugs. Empty takeaway boxes stood stacked on the table. Phil sat on one of the chairs, his head in his hands. Next to him was a half-empty bottle of whisky.
‘You’re no bloody martyr, you know,’ he muttered.
She sat down opposite him. ‘Never said I was. Just trying to become a better person.’
He looked up and his hand reached for the bottle. ‘You’ve clearly come back to try to make up for the past and all that crap. Well take it from me – it’s never going to work. I cheated on Sheila a decade ago. One stupid mistake. She’s been harbouring a grudge all this time and finally got her own back. Except she fell in love and actually left. Ten years and I still didn’t get forgiveness, so if I was you, I wouldn’t bother seeking it from other people.’
‘How is drinking going to help, Phil?’
‘Makes me feel better.’
‘Until you wake up tomorrow hating yourself and promising it’ll never happen again.’
Phil concentrated on the bottle.
‘Iknow, Phil,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s where I’ve been.’
He moved the whisky nearer.
11 months before going back
