Page 50 of Forgive Me Not
‘I had a panic attack in the spring,’ said Andrea quietly, ‘and I get terrible headaches.’
‘It’s bad enough for me, and I don’t even have my own business,’ said Bligh. ‘At least my insomnia has improved after I finally paid back some money I owed.’
Emma sat quietly and stared at the ground. Andrea – and Bligh – had done so well, shouldering all the responsibility of keeping the farm afloat.
They chatted a while longer about how the local economy could survive. Ted suggested that he still hold the next village meeting but change the agenda from getting rid of the homeless to how the community could pull together to tackle the competition.
‘I never realised just how bad things have been,’ Emma said to Andrea. The two sisters were in the kitchen. Emma was packing a bag of chopped ham and chicken for the Duchess before walking back to Phil’s accompanied by Stig and Ted.
Andrea wiped down the units vigorously. ‘It’s close to the point where Mum’s going to need residential care. Bligh and I just can’t safely look after her any more. Her wandering off and eating those berries proved that.’
‘But I can help. Let me stay longer. Me and Mum are getting on great and I’ll be out of your way at Phil’s in the evenings.’
She stopped wiping but didn’t look up. ‘What’s the point? You’ll be moving on eventually. I give it another week – maybe a month – before you get bored of Healdbury. Especially now you’ve got Aunt Thelma’s money. I’m right, aren’t I?’
Andrea waited. Emma so wanted to fill the silence with remonstrations – an insistence that she’d stay around for as long as she could. She wanted to shout how much the farm meant to her – the animals, the weeping willow, the flowers. The smells and sounds she’d never appreciated before. Above all, how much it meant to be close to family again, despite the emotional distance.
But she couldn’t do that. Not now. Not after last night and once again seeing Polly and Alan at close quarters. She couldn’t avoid them forever and she knew that the time was nearing for her to face her past recklessness and talk to the police.
She felt sick every time she thought about prison, but she couldn’t just change her life on the surface. It had to go deeper, otherwise she’d be living a lie. She had to start putting others first, and for her own sake she had to take responsibility for her actions.
So she kept quiet and carried on chopping meat. And with even more vigorous arm movements, Andrea went back to her cleaning.
Before she left for Phil’s, Emma rummaged in the kitchen drawer and managed to find a hairpin. Everyone else was outside talking, apart from Andrea, who’d been to check on Gail. She came downstairs with their mum’s small sherry glass, washed it up and joined the men. Emma sat at the table and jiggled the pin for a few minutes. It wasn’t as easy as she remembered. She was about to give up when with one final tweak the lock sprung open. Gingerly she lifted the lid.
A lump rose to her throat. Inside were Christmas cards the two sisters had made Gail, and their baby scan photos. There was a tiny pair of gloves with teddy bear ears that Emma had insisted on wearing all one winter – even indoors – and a certificate from school when Andrea had won a chess tournament. She took out these treasures and a triumphant smile crossed her face as underneath she saw the necklace. It lay next to her mum’s collection of thimbles made from different-coloured metals.
Stig’s head appeared around the back door. ‘You ready to leave?’
‘Just coming.’
She was about to close the lid when a pile of envelopes caught her eye. She lifted them out. They smelt musty. Her brow knotted as she sifted through and counted. Eighteen. All different colours and sizes. The white ones had browned with age. Each was addressed to her mum. She studied the writing. Perhaps they were from an old boyfriend. But as far as she knew, Mum had never met anyone after her dad. At one point Emma had teased that she was getting close to Bligh’s father, but Gail had made it clear that she was steering clear of men in future – and as far as Emma knew, she had.
With a shrug, she shoved the envelopes into her rucksack. It was getting late. She’d take a proper look later.
6 months before going back
As Christmas approached, Emma found it increasingly difficult not to think about Ned. She hadn’t confided in Rachel. The recovery programme was hard enough without taking on board someone else’s problems.
She wasn’t used to putting other people’s feelings first.
She lay on her bed next to her friend as they chatted about Christmases past. Thinking about Ned had all become too much last week. She couldn’t control the voice that used to tell her she was a bad person. So she’d asked for a one-to-one with Tess, and Emma had hinted that there was a chance she might have caused someone’s death.
Tess said she should speak to the relevant authorities – perhaps seeking legal advice first. She didn’t press for details. If Emma told her everything, no doubt she’d be duty-bound to contact the police herself. But she did reassure Emma that this week would help because they were doing Step Nine.
This step was all about making amends to the people who’d been hurt – for their sake and that of the addict, whose recovery might otherwise be eaten away by guilt and remorse. Everyone had to make three lists: the people they’d say sorry to now; the one-day maybes; and those who – for their own good – would be best left forever because further contact would cause upset.
The home drinkers’ lists weren’t very long, whereas Emma and Rachel’s… Neither of them was sure where to start. Emma practically ran out of paper, what with Mum, Andrea and Bligh… Polly and Alan… the pub’s customers, other villagers, and old school friends she’d shouted abuse at. Not to mention the complete strangers she’d insulted. Plus there were those she owed money to.
Rachel adjusted the pillow behind her neck. ‘And then there was the Christmas I threw up over Mum’s new cream dress. She’d saved for weeks to buy it and actually cried. The stains never came out. She didn’t speak to me for a week.’ She bit her lip. ‘Making amends isn’t going to be easy.’
‘I’ve decided to start with Andrea,’ said Emma. ‘I’ve written a letter that I’ll post tonight. I feel a bit better already.’
‘Why not phone?’
‘This way I can set my thoughts out properly. If we have an actual conversation, I might react to things she says in the heat of the moment, and vice versa. I think my initial approach needs to be scripted. It isn’t long – there’s just too much to say sorry for in one go.’
Rachel groaned. ‘I hear you. I can’t remember the last time Mum and I actually spoke instead of shouting. Although I can see now that was usually because I’d had a drink.’
