Page 37 of Forgive Me Not
The rest of the group nodded.
‘Perhaps you have all done bad things, but you’ve also been ill,’ he continued. ‘Your habits, your behaviours and choices might have been bad – that doesn’t makeyou, intrinsically, a bad person. Not if you’re prepared to do what it takes to change yourself and make amends.’
He looked around the room. ‘That session on negative thinking is one of the most important ones you’ll do, folks. You’ve got to rewire your brains. So now I’ll ask you again, Emma – how are things going?’
‘I’ve had a lot of cravings since… since it happened. But I’ve followed suggestions – went out for a walk or drank a glass of water or read a book.’
He nodded.
‘And my case worker is getting rehab sorted. One we’re considering is based on a tough boot-camp style, whereas another gentler one calls itself a therapeutic community. Yesterday we visited one in Sheffield that is between the two. Lou thinks that one is best.’
‘What about our discussion on moving forward from former friends in order to safeguard yourself from old behaviours?’
‘I went to the library to use the computer to get my mates’ contact details. But when I scrolled down my accounts, I realised they were really just drinking partners.’ Her scalp had prickled as she’d studied the online photos. Facebook, Instagram, her posts had been all about showing off and duck pouts. She could hardly bear to look at the selfies and those bloodshot eyes, or listen to the videos narrated by her slurred words. ‘So I’ve deleted all my accounts. I’m making new friends in AA now.’
She realised shewasmaking progress. Perhaps things weren’t quite so hopeless after all. Bit by bit she was taking charge of her life, and something warmed the inside of her chest – a small sense of self-respect that had kept away for so long.
Dave gave her a thumbs-up. ‘It’s so important not to isolate. Meeting new, like-minded people is the way to go. So lastly, let’s go back to what you said at first, about not seeing the point in staying sober…’ He paused. ‘We care, you know. Me. Your case workers. Your new friends in here. We want you to reach the end of this journey,’ he added in gentler tones. ‘We want to help.’
‘But it was my pregnancy that brought me here.’ She swallowed. ‘Now that’s gone… I can’t help wondering why I’m bothering.’ Joe had left. Now Josephine. Struggling to fight the self-pity, Emma wiped her eyes. She had to stay strong.
‘It doesn’t need to have been for nothing,’ he said. ‘Not if you carry on. Stay well. Build a future for yourself. Wouldn’t staying on this road make everything that’s happened worth something?’
He moved on to the next person, his usual brusque tone restored. Emma zoned out of the class. Turning her life around… changing things for good… of course, Dave was absolutely right. Making something of her life, contributing – that would make Josephine’s brief existence significant.
Especially if… A shiver shot down her spine. Her throat ached as she contemplated going home. She hadn’t called Foxglove Farm home for a long time. But recovery had made it hard to block out thoughts about Mum and Andrea and how they were coping now. It asked uncomfortable questions, like had they really abandoned her, or had her behaviour forced them to let go?
What if everything wasn’t their fault after all? All those second chances they gave her after her false promises – how had she repaid their patience? By continuing to hurt and humiliate them; by treating Bligh and his dad so badly.
She stared blankly at the flipchart and felt so confused. Who was this new open-minded, rational Emma? She felt like a stranger.
But in that instant, she knew what she had to do. To make Josephine count, she would put all her energy into completing the rehabilitation process, and then as soon as possible go back to Healdbury.
Chapter 13
Phil sat at the kitchen table and kicked his feet against its pine legs like a teenager.
‘I don’t want pancakes for breakfast. I’ll sort myself out. You’re my lodger, not my mother.’
Emma winced.
‘I’ve made too many,’ she said, and set down a pile in front of him. She sat opposite him and reached for the pot of honey.
‘Three weeks here and you think this is your gaff.’
‘Nope. If it was, I’d have curtains back up in here by now.
Phil glanced at the window. ‘Hadn’t really noticed. Guess I could get some,’ he said grudgingly.
‘Or blinds…’ Emma shrugged. ‘Might be more practical.’
They ate in silence.
‘On the plus side, the bare window means we’ve got an amazing view of today’s sunrise. What a fabulous pink sky.’ Emma studied his face as he turned to look. Having stuck to soft drinks for a while, he looked like a different person. The dark shadows around his eyes were less pronounced. He’d shaved and got on top of his washing and ironing. Routine had become part of his life again. He’d even embraced her suggestion of using Bligh’s paint to smarten up the shop.
‘Have you thought any more about my idea?’ she said, and sipped her tea.
‘Even if I thought it was worth it, I haven’t got the means to advertise.’ He turned back and cautiously prodded a pancake as if it were alive.
