Page 43 of Forgive Me Not
‘You know…’ Rachel cleared her throat. ‘If you have to try so hard to control something, really it is controlling you.’
Emma nodded. She liked Rachel, with her caring ways once you cut through the banter. She’d been the first to grab the tissue box today in the group, to hand to a man who’d started crying. Rachel admitted that she talked so much to cover her nervousness. In spite of the illness that had drawn them together, she managed to laugh at life – and laugh at herself.
With just one hour to go before bed, Emma suggested they look through their work booklets once more before the next day. This had become something of an evening routine. They’d take it in turns to meet in each other’s bedroom. Rachel always had a stash of biscuits and Emma soft drinks.
On one such evening several weeks later, in November, Emma heard the expected knock at her door. A smiling Rachel came in. Her clothes hung more loosely and her mottled complexion had cleared. Today they’d been working Step Four.
‘Which is utter hell!’ Rachel had declared.
It dealt with character defects in depth.
‘Resentments is the big one, folks,’ Tess had said that morning. ‘Addicts replay and replay them in their minds, obsessing, until they take over. To get well, you need to admit your own role in the situation and wipe the slate clean. Let’s think of some small examples to start with. We’ve just had Bonfire Night – does that remind you of anything relevant?’
Emma’s memory involved Joe. They’d shoplifted some sparklers and written each other’s names in the night air. She’d drawn a love heart. He’d got sulky. Consequently Emma felt a huge resentment.
‘It was because of my… my low self-esteem,’ she admitted to everyone now. ‘And maybe a little pride. And fear – the fear of being alone. I couldn’t accept that he didn’t feel the same way about me.’
Low self-esteem. Pride. Fear. Thoughtlessness. Selfishness. The list went on. Emma was seeing herself with fresh eyes. It made for uncomfortable viewing.
‘Hellooo. Anyone in?’ said Rachel, and playfully tapped Emma’s head.
Emma grinned. ‘Sorry.’
Rachel headed to the bed and sat on it cross-legged. Emma joined her. They both opened their booklets.
‘These inventories we have to draw up – of everyone we’ve ever resented in our whole life. It’s not easy.’
Rachel nodded. ‘I know. For me, it’s everything from friends and family who told me to stop drinking to complete strangers who’ve made nasty comments about my weight.’
‘I can’t believe the rubbish I’ve held onto for so many years. Villagers in Healdbury who—’
‘Healdbury? So that’s where Foxglove Farm is? Nice place.’ Rachel shuffled into a more comfortable position and offered Emma one of the granola cookies from her bag. She was choosing healthier options these days and had stopped buying fizzy drinks.
‘You’ve been there?’
‘About a year ago. The village worked as the halfway point for meeting a new client. Most customers were happy to discuss web design over the phone, but some liked to meet up to show me material that would help me understand the whole concept. This client was a self-employed potter and brought in a range of his kitchenware. I thought a pub would be nicer than motorway services.’ Rachel smiled. ‘I always remember places by their food. This pub did amazing fish and chips.’
‘So it had nothing to do with being able to drink?’
Gently Rachel pushed Emma’s shoulder.
‘Do you miss your job?’
‘No. It paid well – that’s why I did it, and the only reason I took computer studies at university – but now…’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m thinking about doing that training course Tess mentioned, at the end of treatment. I want a job that does more for me than just line my pockets, and helping people through the Twelve-Step Programme should do it.’
‘Rachel, that’s brilliant! This time next year you could be working alongside her.’
‘Maybe – and without the temptation of boozy lunches. Sitting down most of the day didn’t help my eating either. It’ll be a complete change of lifestyle but I finally feel as if I’m discovering the real me. I always thought it was that chunky little girl who sat in watching telly every night, stuffing her face, but looking back, that person was just a result of circumstance.’
‘Which pub did you visit in Healdbury?’
‘Now what was it called…? The Badger Inn.’
‘You’ve got a good memory.’
‘Not usually, but it’s a difficult place to forget – great food aside.’
‘Why? All those badger ornaments?’ Emma wiped crumbs from her lips.
