I look up and shake my head at him. ‘I can’t. I just can’t. Tonight, with Tim, it was all too much.’
‘You have to,’ Bill says firmly. ‘You’re ready. And you will do a great job. You’ve worked really hard, and this can’t come crashing down. I can’t lose my job. I’m nearly seventy. Where am I going to go? What am I going to do?’
‘Couldn’t Russell find somewhere for you?’ I start.
‘No,’ he says sharply. And I realize that Russell probably doesn’t mind Bill being tucked up here out of the way at Loch Dorn, but at a top restaurant in Glasgow he would be seen as a severe liability.
‘Bill, you’re sick. You need to get help. You can’t keep spinning plates,’ I say, realizing at the same time how pointless my words are.
‘Just finish the job, Birdy. Please.’
For a second we lock eyes.
‘Bill. Look, I’ll stay, okay? But only if you get help. My father didn’t and …’
I pause for a moment, wondering if I should go there. I look at Bill swaying in the doorway and decide that I must.
‘Mum kept covering and covering for my dad. She once found me choking on flour in the kitchen, blue lips and everything – with Dad passed out on the sofa. I was four.Four!And she covered for him at the hospital:My naughty daughter got into the kitchen cupboard and pulled out the flour. They were so obsessed with conspiracy theories and yet their whole life was a conspiracy. She chose to protect him, and I guess herself. Over my own fucking safety. It was never my dad’s fault. It was always someone else’s. And often, that someone else was me. I don’t speak to either of them any more, because the fucking gaslighting was so extreme I drove myself crazy. You know what it’s like having your mum shout at you for calling an ambulance when your dad has passed out in the shower?Shout at you. Tell you off for calling for help? Tell you there is nothing wrong, when you can smell the vomit and piss? Do you know what it’s like to have to second-guess what you think you’re seeing? You stop believing in yourself.’
I realize I’m crying, but I can’t stop.
‘And you know where it’s got my parents? Nowhere. Fucking nowhere. I hate them. Covering and protecting – it’s fucking wrong. You need help. You can still make a change, it’s not too late. You’ve been stealing from the hotel. I’ve seen the wine in your wardrobe. I see the little shots of whisky you take during service. You can go about pretending you’re fine, but you’re not, and someone is going to get really fucking hurt. And, honestly, it’s probably going to be you.’
Bill looks a little taken aback and leans into the door frame.
‘You’re wrong,’ he says.
‘I’m right,’ I counter. ‘You know it. You know, in your heart. I’ll do the fucking wine evening, okay? I’ll do it. But you?Youhave to get help.’
‘Okay,’ he says flatly, and I want to punch him.It’s a disease, Elizabeth Finch. Support him. I breathe out slowly. I will stay. Just till after the Wine Society event.
‘Heather called earlier, by the way,’ he says. ‘That’s what I was coming to tell you.’
I stop in my tracks, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
‘Wanted to speak to Irene,’ he continues. ‘But luckily I took the call.’
‘She called here?’
‘Yes, wanted to apologize for pulling out of the job, I suppose.’
My blood turns cold. ‘What did you say to her?’
‘I told her Irene was out and that she needn’t worry, and that we’d found an adequate replacement. She was quite keen to speak to Irene anyway, but I think I dissuaded her.’
‘Oh God,’ I say, feeling myself begin to tremble again. ‘Thank you.’
Then we both hear the door open and James appears. He’s wet, and I realize it’s been raining outside. He rubs his hands through his hair and shakes the excess drops away.
‘Is everything okay here?’ He looks between me and Bill.
‘Heather has been feeling a bit embarrassed about her ex-boyfriend’s behaviour up there,’ says Bill. ‘I’ve told her she needn’t stress.’
James stares at me, studying my face. Blotchy, I suspect, and red. Obviously upset.
‘You look terrible,’ he says, frowning.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, despite Bill still standing there. ‘I’m sorry for all of it. Tim is going in the morning. I should have made it clearer that it was over. I thought I did, but … I guess I wasn’t clear enough. Honestly, James, you don’t have to believe me, but I really didn’t think he’d care, or need to be broken up with. Tim never considered me a girlfriend. I’m as astonished as anyone that he actually turned up.’
