‘No, I was going to text Liv, make her message Ollie and see if he replies to her. Then I’ll know if he’s ghosting me. Butyouridea is better.’
‘He’s not ghosting Liv. He saw her last week,’ Ben says thoughtlessly as he glances over the menu.
‘What!’ I exclaim.
Ben jumps at my outburst.
‘Sorry,’ I say, slinking into my chair. I look at the menu, but I can’t even read the words. All I see is white rage.
‘Do you want to hear something that might cheer you up?’ Ben tries.
‘Sure,’ I say listlessly.
‘I’ve not had a drink in eight weeks.’
My mouth falls open and is soon replaced with a wide smile. I lean forward, take his hands in mine. ‘Ben,’ I reply. I’m unable to keep the emotion from my voice. ‘Ben, that’s wonderful. How? How have you done it?’
‘Just did. Small steps. I asked myself: could I do Monday without a drink? And I did it. Same for Tuesday. And I did the week until Friday, then I told myself I could drink at the weekend. Then the next week I did it for the week until Saturday, and I only had one. And it went on like that for a while. Until I sort of stopped. At the weekend I pretend to drink – on nights out like this. A G&T minus the G. In a nice glass. With ice. That helps, oddly. I’ve sort of stopped hanging out with people who drink a lot. I don’t think I’d do too well around open bottles, but it’s kind of working. You know?’
‘Oh, Ben, that’s incredible.’
‘I’ve had to quit my job. I can’t work in nightclubs and be near huge amounts of alcohol – doesn’t work at all. Although I can’t drink on the job, it’s the fact that it’s there in quantity. So I’m not being too hard on myself. I’m not saying thatI can’t drink ever again, but I’m seeing how it goes like this, and if I have a celebratory glass of something for a special occasion, I’m hoping I’ll be able to be moderate and not have the thirst for more of it. To be decided,’ he finishes. ‘I’m a work-in-progress.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ I say. ‘But you’re doing better than most. I’m so fiercely proud of you.’
‘Thanks,’ Ben replies, looking bashful.
‘So what’s next, career-wise?’ I ask.
‘No idea,’ he says. ‘Not got that bit sorted yet.’ He picks up his menu. ‘Shall we order?’
I can see the words on the menu again now. I’m no longer full of anger for Ollie ghosting me, but instead I am full of love for Ben for having gone some way towards defeating his demons.
I only hope it lasts.
CHAPTER FORTY
Two years ago
Ollie
‘I like the sound of the turbot, but at forty pounds the price is a bit crazy,’ I tell Romy as we’re dining in a fish restaurant in central London. It’s her birthday and I should probably have kept quiet about the price of the fish, seeing as I chose the restaurant. I tack on to the end of my last sentence, ‘But you have what you want, obviously.’
‘I was going to have turbot, but not if it’s too expensive.’
‘It’s not. Have it – it’s your birthday. I’ll try a bite of yours. I might have …’ I cast my eyes up and down the menu, ‘seafood linguine. That sounds good.’ It’s also only twenty pounds.
‘I’ll have salmon. It’s in a lovely creamy dill sauce,’ Romy says, changing her mind and opting for a cheaper dish. ‘I’ve wanted to come here for ages,’ she continues after we place our order. ‘Thanks for remembering. And thanks for the gorgeous flowersandthe earrings. It’s all too much.’
‘It’s not. You deserve it. Thanks for putting up with meand my unsociable work schedule. It’s only going to get worse, you know.’
‘You’ll be qualified soon enough. Then we’ll be able to afford the turbot.’
I pretend to play a tiny violin while I say, ‘I’ll never be able to afford turbot. It really will take me for ever to afford anything ever again. I’ve got used to being poor.’
‘Lucky one of us has a proper job then,’ Romy says with a humorous glint in her eye.
‘True.’
