Page 42 of Forgive Me Not
No prodding was required for people to reveal exactly who they accused – their boss, their lover, a neighbour, work, society’s expectations, friends, that teacher in Year 10… Since stopping drinking, Emma had been having doubts about whether Mum, Andrea and Bligh were to blame, but her father was still in the frame. Andrea’s dad had died when her sister was three, but Emma’s had run off. She’d never felt good enough because he chose to leave; never felt as if she fitted. So surely her problems were his fault?
Tentatively she smiled at the woman next to her, Rachel, who was also from Manchester, dressed in leggings and a baggy denim shirt. Rachel winked back, and discreetly offered a boiled sweet before slipping one into her own mouth. She was chatty, and before the session started had already found out where Emma grew up and introduced her to everyone else.
Tess said, ‘The truth is, there’s only one answer and it applies to you all.’
Emma sat upright on the hard chair.
‘There is only one person or thing to blame – yourself.’
Rachel swore. Everyone else sat wide-eyed in silence.
‘Thousands of people around the world have your challenges but they don’t use because of them.’ Tess explained how other people dealt with their feelings. Perhaps they talked them out. Meditated. Went swimming. Read a good book. Whereas everyone in that room used substances to change the way they felt and to escape.
An uncomfortable sensation washed over Emma as rain pitter-pattered against the windows. She thought about Mum. What she’d been through, widowed then abandoned. She hardly ever complained. And then there was Bligh, whose mother had run off and who’d then had to suffer the worry over his dad… the way he’d coped was to carry on being hard-working and reliable.
Whereas Emma…
Rachel took a while longer to grasp what Tess had said. It came out that she used to drink to try and fit in, and unreservedly blamed her mum for what made her stand out – the ginger hair the other children would laugh at, the unhealthy food that made her pile on weight. The next evening, over dinner, she and Emma swapped stories from their school days. Emma realised how lucky she’d been, with the farm, the support of Andrea and Bligh, and her mum’s home-cooked meals.
‘I grew up in a tower block,’ said Rachel, putting down her knife and fork. ‘We lived off takeaways and frozen food. Mum often left me on my own overnight to work her second job in a care home.’
‘That must have been frightening,’ said Emma.
‘I never felt alone thanks to the noise from our neighbours. Their arguments and slammed doors were kind of comforting. Most nights I watched box sets. I could winMastermindif my specialist subject wasThe Vampire Diaries.’ Rachel shrugged. ‘The ironic thing is, my dad would have stayed around and helped. But Mum knew he didn’t love her. She got pregnant after a one-night stand. Apparently he offered to do the decent thing – even bought a cheap engagement ring from the market. They were just kids. But Mum’s a proud woman. She told him to do one and never let her parents find out who the dad was.’
‘My dad couldn’t get away quick enough. Have you ever thought about tracking yours down?’
‘Yeah, but Mum… she’s never even told me his surname. She’s as tough as anything, you know – how she sticks up for herself with the housing people and at work – but if I mention my dad, this look comes over her face like… like a kid who’s been blocked on social media by their mates. My gran talked to me about it once, a couple of weeks before she died – said Mum got called a slag at school when she showed and had to leave. Gran said mentioning the pregnancy just brought back too many painful memories and I should leave the subject alone.’ Rachel shrugged. ‘But what about me? It’s painful knowing nothing about my dad.’ She looked at her watch and groaned. ‘I can’t be doing with this bed at ten o’clock malarkey. They’re having a laugh. It’s like freshers’ week in reverse.’
‘You went to university? I didn’t get the grades.’
‘Yeah. Mum was ever so proud, bragged to all her friends, yet told me I was an embarrassment when I just scraped a third in the final year, due to my partying. She seemed more bothered about what her mates thought than my health.’
‘Does she know you’re here?’
Rachel drank some water and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘I haven’t rung her for over a year. I could be dead for all she cares.’
‘Scary, isn’t it? Doing the Twelve Steps. Just number one seems hard.’
‘I already love Tess – but don’t tell her that,’ said Rachel, and dimples popped into her full cheeks. ‘She’s bossy. Calls us out for our behaviours. Tells it like it is. I need that. She’s the first person whose opinion I’ve taken notice of for a long time.’
Rachel had made the mistake of saying she just wanted a normal life.
‘You can scrub that word for starters,’ Tess had said. ‘It doesn’t exist. Whereasordinary– there’s nothing wrong with that, and it’s the opposite of what addiction makes you desire.’
She was right. A few drinks inside Emma and she thought she was the big I am. She wanted status, and if she couldn’t be the village vet, she’d been determined to find it another way. But perhaps the simple things really were more important. These days she relished a pretty autumn leaf, a refreshing cup of tea – or making new friends like Rachel.
There was nothing wrong with being ordinary. Emma was just beginning to realise that.
‘There’s so much truth in everything she says. I mean, Step One is all about accepting you have no control over drink. It’s funny how I never saw this in the past.’ She shook her head.
‘Did you ever try to stop?’ asked Rachel, and patted her generous stomach. ‘For me, it’s the same with food. No willpower. I’ve tried replacement meals, starving…’
‘Yeah, I tried alternating soft drinks with shots, having spritzers or mocktails. I tried buying mini bottles of wine instead of normal-sized ones, and only drinking after seven p.m. or at weekends.’
‘Me too. I was so desperate towards the end. I remember one night I woke up frantic. There was nothing in the house and the shop near me was shut, so I drank mouthwash.’ Rachel shook her head. ‘Honestly, all the detours I’d make before and after work, trying to find a different supermarket or wine merchant. I was so embarrassed going into my usual stores, convinced the cashiers knew I had a problem. In fact I’d often buy a birthday card at the same time so they thought the wine was for someone else. Wasn’t it creepy what Tess said? So obvious.’
Emma raised an eyebrow.
