She gingerly took the stairs down to the hallway and went into the lounge, where Marianne was on her phone but ended the call when Bess went in.
‘He’s not answering,’ she said.
‘Gio?’
‘He’s angry, probably upset. I need to get round there but I don’t think he’ll answer the door.’
Bess felt terrible. ‘I’m really sorry. About everything. Last night. Gio.’ She sank into the sofa’s cushions, wishing they could wrap her in their comfort forever.
‘You don’t need to apologise.’
Bess would’ve sat up straighter if she could. ‘I do. I acted verybadly, irresponsibly. And it’s my fault Gio is angry with you. I’m not this person, Marianne, I’m really not.’ And then she suddenly remembered stumbling outside the pub. ‘And you hurt yourself, your ankle, because of me.’
What a total mess. Last night. Her life.
‘My ankle is a little bit tender but much better today.’ Marianne sat down next to Bess. ‘You say you’re not this person and I know that already. Last night was out of character – so what was it all about?’
Bess’s head pounded and she winced, so much so that Marianne went and got a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol. She waited until Bess had taken them before she spoke again.
‘We had a lovely dinner the night before last, you were happy, then the next thing I know, you’re calling me from the pub and you’re completely the other end of the scale.’
Bess hugged a cushion on her lap, her focus on the tassels, the few that had tied themselves in knots.
‘Bess, I’m a good listener. I haven’t always been. In fact, my boys will tell you I was the opposite when they were younger, but I’ve learned a lot over the years. And it hasn’t always been easy.’ She paused. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but sometimes, talking about things can help.’
‘I think I’m too much of a mess to be helped.’ She leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes.
‘I very much doubt that.’
‘I’m ashamed of the mess I’m in.’
‘I’ve been there myself, believe me.’
Bess opened her eyes. ‘Is that why you came here, to Whistlestop River?’
‘I need to make amends with my boys, both of them. Gio is the easier one to start with.’ Bess waited for her to go on but she didn’t elaborate on that; all she said was, ‘Please remember thatthe answers to your problems are never going to be found in the bottom of a glass.’
‘It made me forget for a while, though.’
‘It’s temporary, but that feeling of escape doesn’t last. Believe me, I’ve tried it.’
Bess drew her knees up against her chest, curled into the corner of the sofa. ‘You drank a lot?’
‘You could say that.’ She met Bess’s gaze. ‘I’ve been in Alcoholics Anonymous for a while now.’
Bess tried to process the revelation. She gasped. ‘I offered you a drink! I’ve got alcohol in my fridge! Right there under your nose!’ She shook her head because now, thinking back to Christmas night in the pub when she’d seen Gio and told him she was going home to enjoy a glass of wine or two, it made sense. He had told her not to open the wine. He hadn’t wanted her to do it in front of his mum.
Marianne nodded. ‘I won’t lie, it’s been a test.’
Bess sat upright and then wished she hadn’t because her head rushed in a way that sent her slinking back again. ‘I made you come to a pub, for crying out loud. How could I be so stupid?’
‘You’re not stupid; you were inviting me out and that was a nice thing to do. And nobodymademe come to the pub. You called and the more I said no to joining you, the more upset you got. And then, well, it reminded me of the pain that alcoholics like me have, the pain they’re trying to block out with a few drinks and then a few more. Maybe I imagined it partly, but I couldn’t ignore it because it reminded me of myself on some of my darkest days.’
Bess put a hand to her tummy.
Marianne was up like a shot. ‘Are you going to be sick?’
‘I don’t think so. I think I’m hungry.’
