‘But you also cannotmakeher drink. What I’m saying is that what you do or don’t do will make no difference to how much she drinks or if she stops. Believe me, I know – my first husband’s brother had these issues.’
I remember her saying something about that now, I realize, but it isn’t a fact I would have recalled if not for this moment.
‘I think I’d like to believe what you’re saying, but I don’t know if I do. She doesn’t drink in a vacuum. What goes on in the world around her, including her relationships, has to have an impact, right?’
‘To an extent. But the buck stops with her. She drinks because she chooses to, and she won’t stop until she chooses to, and that won’t happen until drinking becomes more painful than the things she uses it to escape from.’
‘I don’t thinkshesees it that way. She always said … ’ I pause, unable to continue because my throat has swollen.
Lola gets up and puts her arms around me. ‘Tell me?’
I rest my face against her shoulder and feel her solid warmth. ‘She said she wouldn’t have needed to drink if she hadn’t been a single mum. When I was a teenager, she’d tell me I drove her to it because I was so difficult.’
My stepmother makes a dismissive noise. ‘What nonsense! You forget I knew you during those years. When you came to visit us at the weekend, you were quiet as a mouse, always looking scared at me with those big eyes, always jumping up to try and help. Did you get moody sometimes? Of course! You were a teenager. But you were in no way a problem child, Jessica. Do not believe that of yourself.’
She pats me on the back, and I give her a little squeeze. When I pull back and blink my watery eyes, she smiles at me. ‘I have been waiting for many years to have a chat like this with you, my daughter,’ she tells me. ‘I am glad you confided in me. As I say, I cannot give you counsel on what to do about Luke’s party, but I will tell you this: listen to your own heart on this matter.’
‘But—’
That’s easier said than done with Luke’s insistence that ‘family is family’.
Lola holds a finger up. ‘Ah! Do not argue with me. Be true to yourself, and do not cave in and do what you think everyone else wants you to do.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
JESS
Luke edges behind me in our narrow bathroom. He leaves a hand on my bare shoulder, reaching past me as I apply concealer and foundation, and grabs his aftershave from the shelf. He pauses for a moment, meeting my eyes in the mirror. We stare at each other for a full two seconds and then he kisses the top of my head. ‘I don’t want the whole of our day to be “off”, if you know what I mean?’
I blink. ‘I don’t either.’
His muscular arms are heavy as he wraps them around my shoulders and brings his cheek next to mine. ‘We’ll work it out. It’s not such a big thing that we should let it spoil us celebrating four years of being married.’
Relief surges through my whole body like a warm wind.Oh, thank goodness.‘I love you,’ I say into the mirror. He kisses the hollow of my neck. All day I’ve been waiting for this, for this sense of togetherness rather than being opposing forces. But how do I keep it? How do I hang on to it?
Luke suddenly goes still and swears. ‘I think I need to iron a shirt.’ He untangles himself from me, gives himself a spritz ofaftershave, and pops the bottle back on the shelf. I playfully swat his behind as he leaves the bathroom, smiling to myself as his usual retort of, ‘don’t touch what you can’t afford!’ echoes from the landing.
By the time my make-up is done and I’m ready to get dressed, Luke is in the living room manhandling the ironing board. A quick check of the clock by my bed tells me we’re due at the restaurant in about half an hour. I’m still in my underwear when my phone rings. I grab for it and see ‘Mum’ on the screen. My stomach sinks.
‘Hi,’ I say breezily, hoping I can get this over and done with as quickly as possible.
‘Jessica!’ Mum says. She’s not slurring. Yet. But I can hear the tell-tale softening of consonants that suggests it won’t be long. ‘Did you get a chance to drop that money in my account?’
I think back to the ledger in my bullet journal. I noticed the date on the last amount was yesterday, so I feel I’m fairly safe in confirming I did.
‘Oh, thank you, sweetie! I promise I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.’
I stare at my phone screen and shake my head. We both know that’s not true. I think about doing what I’d usually do, saying the right thing to placate her, minimizing my own frustration at the never-ending cycle of lies and self-delusion, but then I’m brought back to a moment earlier as my stepmother looked me in the eye and told me the truth.
‘Actually, Mum … there’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m planning a surprise birthday party for Luke next month.’
‘That sounds exciting!’
I pause for a moment, readying myself. I hardly ever talk to Mum about her drinking. I’ve been conditioned to leave that towering elephant in the room unacknowledged since I was barely out of primary school, but today I have to say something. ‘I would very much like it if, when you come to the party, you promise you won’t drink any alcohol – while you’re there, and even before you come.’
