Another Love (12 page)

Around the same time as the vomiting incident, when I was about six, she came off the booze for a few weeks. I can’t remember how long for exactly, but I do remember that for a while she was like the perfect mum. Really attentive and great. Aunty Holly was staying with us and she was brilliant. She was so funny – still is. I love her. It was a happy time.

One day she picked me up from school and she was excited. She got like that sometimes, a bit childlike, I suppose, like she had a secret or a surprise, and on this occasion she did! I jumped in the car where Holly was waiting and instead of going home for our tea, we went up to the zoo in Clifton. She’d packed a picnic and the first thing we did when we arrived was set out our blanket and eat our sandwiches and crisps and we were all so happy that we laughed at everything. Everything! A fat lady who walked past, the way my orange squash splurged out of the bottle when I squeezed it, every animal shriek and noise. We just sat on that blanket doubled over, laughing, giggling and rolling around. We were having the best time ever and that was before we’d even seen an animal.

I remember seeing a girl about my age, she was walking along the path and her mum was marching ahead of her, and I could tell she was angry and the girl looked really sad and I remember thinking what a waste it was to be sad and angry at the zoo. It’s funny, I can’t remember too much about the creatures we saw or what happened, but I can vividly recall that picnic on the grass and the deep, deep love I felt for my mum. It was late afternoon and still sunny. Her hair was loose, sitting about her shoulders, and when the light caught it, it looked like fire. It was really quite beautiful.

Then a week or so later she took me into town and I was allowed to get my ears pierced. I couldn’t believe it! I’d been nagging her for a while as a few of the girls in my class had earrings. I never thought she’d agree, not in a million years, but just like that, with Aunty Holly in tow, I found myself sitting on this high stall while a woman who smelled of cigarettes held the little gun thing at my lobe. I was petrified and at that point would gladly have backed out had I been given the choice!

I remember sitting in the middle of this jewellery shop and she was holding up huge garish chandelier type earrings saying, ‘ooh these are nice Celeste!’ and I sat there giggling, with a mixture of joy at the situation and absolute fear that she might actually make me wear them!

We went to Claire’s Accessories after and Holly bought me this huge diamante tiara and mum got me a pair of little silver studs that I still have. I wore my tiara to McDonald’s and all the way home. When I walked through the door, Dad was on the phone. He did a double-take and frowned like he was really cross, but then he looked at Mum who was smiling and looked so calm and pretty, and I saw his face relax into a kind of half smile that was happy, but bemused, like he wasn’t quite in on the joke. I looked in the mirror in the hall, twisting my head so the light caught the diamonds on my tiara and made it sparkle. I twiddled my newly placed earrings and couldn’t wait to get on with the business of growing up. I guess that’s because I didn’t know what the next few years would bring.

It was a lovely time, though. The house felt different. Dad was much more relaxed, laughing and making jokes like he used to. I guess it was because he didn’t have to worry about what was waiting for him when he came home from work. What sort of mood Mum would be in. It was the same for me, coming home from school. For those few weeks while Aunty Holly was there, we were like a proper family. Mum would read me a story every night and I didn’t have to get my dirty socks out of the washing machine for school or pretend I didn’t mind not having any snacks for my lunchbox like my friends did. And I didn’t have a tense tummy any more and I didn’t once crawl under my bed. Until this time, I’d thought it was normal to always have a bunching feeling inside; it was only when the tension disappeared that I even realised it wasn’t normal.

Mum understood all that, I think. One night, when we’d driven home from school, we stopped on the driveway and instead of jumping out of the car like we usually did, she sat staring at the windscreen. I sat still, not sure what was happening, and then I realised she was crying. She told she me was sorry and I asked her what for, like I didn’t know what she was apologising for, but I did. It was for all the crappy days when she couldn’t be bothered or was out with Sara or she had drunk at home and I’d seen her pissed. I think that was what she cried for, as if when she was off the booze, she could see things clearly – the bad as well as the good. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t really know how, so I started to sing ‘You Are My Sunshine’, as that was what she sang to me sometimes and I knew it always made me feel a lot better.

‘What am I going to talk to her about?’ Holly whispered across the bathroom as she sat on the loo, holding a small mirror up to her face while she applied her make-up, gurning in different angles, trying to reach her lashes and all of her eyelid.

Romilly continued cleaning her teeth. Growing up in a small house with one bathroom, this had always been normal to them.

She spat the minty foam into the sink and patted her mouth with a towel. ‘What do you mean? Same things you talk to anyone about! She’s American, her English is perfect. And besides, you’ve met her lots of times.’

‘I know I have, that’s the problem. I find her a bit… I don’t know… preachy, a bit annoying and a bit like I want to hit her around the head with a wet kipper.’ Holly grinned at her sister.

‘Shhhh!’ Romilly held her finger up over her mouth and her face flushed scarlet. She tried to contain her giggles but at the same time was embarrassed at the thought that Holly’s voice might have carried. ‘Please don’t hit her around the head with a wet kipper and don’t let David hear you say that, she is his mum after all.’

‘Come on, Rom, you can’t tell me you actually
like
her!’ Holly said loudly.

‘I don’t not like her.’ Romilly made a neutral face, tactful as ever. ‘And she has always been very generous to us, helped us with the deposit for the house, bought things for Celeste, you know… She tries in her own way, and I want her to feel welcome, always. It can’t have been easy for her bringing up David on her own. I can’t imagine what it must have been like, but her husband sounds like a right sort. Left her for his secretary, just dumped her and David when something shinier came along.’

‘Maybe that’s why he’s so solid, dependable?’

‘Mmm, could be. He never really talks about his dad.’ Romilly checked her teeth in the mirror.

‘What was his name?’

‘Why?’ Romilly was wary of giving Holly too much information.

‘Just curious.’

‘Cole. Not that she ever mentions him.’ She fixed her sister with a stare.

‘I can’t imagine Sylvia married, and I certainly can’t imagine her having sex.’

‘Good God, Holly! Why would you want to?’

‘I don’t!’ She giggled. ‘She’s just not that type is she? I bet she thinks you and David don’t do it either. She just seems unaware, detached.’

Romilly laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Holly, she knows we do it! Firstly, we have a child—’

‘Good point.’ Holly winked at her sister and fired an imaginary pistol at her, made from her thumb and forefinger.

‘And secondly, she once discovered us almost mid act.’ She placed her hand over her eyes. ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m telling you! It was the most horrific moment of my life! She saw me naked on the hall floor and David only half dressed!’

Holly laughed loudly. ‘Why were you on the hall floor?’

‘It’s a very long story, but basically we had been having sex in the cupboard under the stairs.’ Romilly blushed.

‘Oh my God, you bloody weirdos! That is classic!’

‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you. You are not to mention it, ever. Ever! Not even to Carrie! Swear!’

‘Scout’s honour.’ Holly giggled.

‘And I mean it, Holl. Be nice to Sylvia.’

‘Message received.’ Holly stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes as she applied a fourth coat of mascara.

‘I’m being serious. You have to be nice to her, do what I do and just let anything she says that’s a bit off centre roll off you like water off a duck’s back.’

‘I wi-ill!’ Holly laboured the point, sounding like a petulant child. ‘Does she know you’re under house arrest?’

Romilly laughed. ‘I am not under house arrest and no, she doesn’t. We’ll just lie and say that you’re here because I like you and not because you’re my jailer.’

Holly put her mascara wand back in her make-up bag and pressed powder under her lower lashes. When she’d finished, she looked up at her big sister. ‘Are you an alcoholic?’

Romilly turned from the mirror and stared at her beautiful sibling, who had used the word that everyone had been very careful to avoid saying in front of her. The word David couldn’t summon, the word she dodged in her own head. She felt slightly sick at the accusation. Of course she wasn’t an alcoholic. Was she? How would she know if she was? In her mind, alcoholics were people who drank before breakfast, who swigged from brown paper bags in the park, toothless people with matted hair who shared cans on the pavement and shouted at random strangers from their bits of cardboard in the car park. Not people like her who simply liked a drink or two to boost their confidence and help them relax. But the wine bottle had been calling to her more and more often lately. What did that mean?

‘I don’t think so.’ She held her sister’s gaze.

‘Well, that doesn’t really answer the question. I mean, I don’t think I need to lose weight, but the waistband on my jeans tells me differently. And Mum doesn’t think she needs a hearing aid, she just believes that everyone in the world, including everyone on TV and the radio, is now whispering just to annoy her. She actually thinks it’s a worldwide conspiracy designed to irritate Pat Shepherd, and chief conspirator is Anne Robinson, as she can no longer hear the questions she asks on
The Weakest Link
.’ She mouthed the punchline: ‘Did you not get the memo?’

Romilly gave a short laugh. ‘I hear you. Loud and clear. And I know what you’re saying.’ She sighed. ‘I guess the answer is that I think I have the potential to be an alcoholic and that’s why it’s important that I just kick it. And that I do it now before I slip any further.’ It felt simultaneously scary and empowering to say the words out loud.

‘I’m very proud of you, Rom. You’re doing great.’ Holly was sincere.

Romilly smiled at her. Physically, she felt a lot better. Her skin had a healthy glow, her hair was glossy and she had put on a little weight in all the right places. She decided not to confess that today, two weeks in, it was just as hard as it had been on day one and that if she had the chance, she’d be off to stick her hand in that wellington boot quicker than you could say ‘Mine’s a pint’.

Not an hour went by without her thinking about having a drink, picturing herself holding a large glass, imagining the tang of a cold, earthy white against her lips. She even dreamt about the stuff. It was enough to send her nuts. To quash the cravings, she took long baths, snacked, cleaned the house, watched television, tried to master the art of painting her beloved mayfly (with varying success), chatted to Holly, walked around the garden or shopped; anything rather than submit to the longing for the taste of booze.

She didn’t even have work to take her mind off things. Some time after her first official warning from Dr Gregson, she’d been caught downing a half-bottle of wine in the Ladies at the lab. Instead of having another go at her, Dr Gregson had phoned David. She’d heard them both offering earnest sentiments, swapping theories and ideas about what might be best for her, as though she were a child or a thing. It was enough to turn anyone to drink. And the upshot was, she was on indefinite leave, ‘for health reasons’.

‘Thanks, Holly. I don’t know if I would have managed without you here.’

Holly ignored the compliment. ‘I was talking to Carrie about it.’ Romilly smirked at her sister’s endearing lack of guile. ‘We’re worried about you, Roms. I mean, we both said that it’s strange how we drink a lot, and I mean a lot – we arrive somewhere with a party-head on, we get pissed, we dance, we laugh, we make fools of ourselves – but then that’s it. We don’t think about doing it again until a week or two later, or we might go for months without going on a bender. But with you it’s always seemed a bit different.’

‘In what way?’ Romilly was giving Holly her full attention now.

‘You’re so quiet and sensible normally, and it’s like you can’t get your party-head on
until
you’re pissed. Then when you do… whoa! You go way crazier than we ever would, like you don’t have the same limits.’

Romilly grimaced. ‘That’s probably true.’

‘Oh God, do you remember that barbecue at Mum and Dad’s? The one with that prick, Russian Viktor?’ Holly rolled her eyes.

Romilly nodded and gave a tight-lipped smile as her cheeks flamed.

‘I wonder why that is?’ her sister mused.

‘I don’t know.’
But I wish I did.

‘Are you scared, Rom?’ Holly whispered.

‘I am a bit, Holl. Yes.’

‘That’s understandable. But don’t be. It’s all going to be fine.’

‘What do Mum and Dad think about it all?’ She knew her sister would have discussed it with them.

‘As you’d expect, Mum thinks it’s a lot of fuss over nothing and that you should just pull yourself together. After all, you’ve got this posh house and a lovely husband, what have you got to drink about?’

Romilly smiled, knowing this was exactly how their mum functioned.

‘Dad left the table as soon as we started discussing it and went to the shed or the greenhouse to check on his tommyatoes or build some piece of crap that Mum can bin when he’s not looking. The usual.’

‘As a family, we’re not very good at talking about stuff, are we? Unless it’s good stuff. I mean, we can talk about good stuff till the cows come home, but anything that might make us uncomfortable, we just all stay zipped!’