Can We Still Be Friends (34 page)

They walked in silence out of the building and down Fleet Street to a small café. A photograph of the owner was placed on the wall and the windows were damp with steam from the canisters of boiling water. Andrea placed her handbag on a table at the back and gestured to Sal to sit down as she went up to buy them both a tea. She returned with the cups balanced, hot liquid so close to the brim that it couldn’t help but spill over on to the saucer.

‘You want to know what happened? You were on sick leave and we had a sudden hole in the paper when some key information was still lacking. Stuart thought we should save it till next week, when it would be stronger. So he looked around to find a filler and remembered that we’d been putting together a package on your subject. But he didn’t want a puff piece about your friends – remember: he’d got all the information about Charterhouse and their development plans in the bag – so he asked Marsha to do some digging to get some more colour on that woman.’

‘You mean Gioia.’

‘Yes, her. And the rest, of course, is history.’

‘But it’s not fair doing that. Taking my story and twisting it in that way.’

‘Maybe if you were professional enough to have been in the office, it wouldn’t have worked out like this. Have you considered that? No. I doubt it. You were too busy smashing yourself up, getting pissed. Sal, you’ve got to pull yourself together. I’ve seen too many hacks done in by alcohol, and it’s not a pretty sight. They’re often the brightest ones. You’ve got talent, but you’ve got a problem. Everybody’s noticed.’

‘They have? What have they noticed?’ Sal’s tone became
defensive. ‘I don’t drink so much. I don’t drink any more than anyone else at lunch.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ve had people come up and talk to me about it. They can smell it on your breath. And it’s not only drink sometimes, is it?’ She watched as Sal took this in, her hand shaking as she raised the cup to her mouth before reaching down to get a cigarette from her bag.

‘But – I do my job well. At least, I thought that’s what I did. You never told me there was a problem with my work before. This last thing. That wasn’t my fault. You know that somebody made me trip over and that’s how I fractured my wrist, and it was you who told me to stay at home, not to come into the office. I was completely on top of it all.’

‘Sal, there are too many old soaks in this business, and too many of them never get the chance to do something about it soon enough. You sound just like them all. And you
have
got the chance to do something. It was never their fault. It’s never your fault. I’m telling you. You need help. I’ve got the names of some places you could go to sort yourself out – it will be easier if you take some leave, and I can probably fix that for you. I’m going to write the names down for you now, and you should think about it. But think seriously. This is the first and last time I’m going to talk to you about it.’

She took out a shorthand pad and a small address book and, writing a couple of names and numbers down, she tore out a sheet of the paper and put it before Sal.

‘I’m going back to the office. I expect you at the desk in quarter of an hour. And think about it. There are no more second chances.’

Since it was impossible to contemplate Sal coming to Charlie and Annie’s flat or Gioia’s place, Kendra had suggested the three of them meet down by the river. They had agreed they had to talk, and the location would be neutral, she pointed out, and, anyway, it might be good to be walking, rather than sitting over a drink. Sal had at first tried to wriggle out of the meeting, claiming work, but Kendra, driven by Gioia’s distress, had shouted down the phone at
her that they weren’t idiots, and of course she didn’t have to work all of Sunday. The low tide that morning exposed the rubbish at the edges of the river: shoes, a bicycle, plastic bags and several tyres sat mired in the mud just past the exquisite waterside houses.

‘Look,’ Sal had said immediately they set off from their gathering point at the pub under the bridge, ‘I know I fucked up. You don’t need to tell me, but I do want you to know it wasn’t my fault. Not all of it, anyway.’

‘It’s not about fault.’ Kendra stopped to look over the stone wall that bordered the river. ‘It’s about what we have to deal with. Gioia’s already got the council and some other God-knows-what-committee on her back. There’s next to no chance of the Chapel surviving now – with all that and this property deal.’ She tried not to think about Annie’s connection with Charlie just now. ‘And on top of that there’s this terrible idea that she’s an improper person. It’s ludicrous.’ She and Sal had only been together for about ten minutes and the meeting was already starting to look like a bad idea. What had she thought it would achieve? Annie was right when she said that they had to find a way through all this if they wanted to stay friends. But the problems were such a tangle. After all, Kendra was not only having to deal with Sal’s craziness but with Annie’s disloyalty too.

Annie was silent. It was days like this, when the sky was a clear blue and there was still a warmth to the air, even though there was a wind blowing leaves along the towpath, that made how she was feeling worse. She could see that it was lovely here – the river curving widely, the landscape open – but she couldn’t feel it. It was, she had agreed with Kendra, important for them to meet, but she simply had no interest in saying anything. Even the article in the newspaper, denigrating as it was to Charlie, didn’t make her feel any emotion other than that it was one more grim aspect to deal with when she couldn’t deal with anything. She could hear Kendra and Sal talking as they walked slightly ahead.

‘So what are you going to do?’ Kendra was saying. ‘You know you can’t go on like this. You’re going to blow everything. It’s not just us. What about your work? They must be getting fed up with you and
the hangovers and the absences, and now this accident?’ Sal’s wrist had graduated from a sling to a bandage. She might have a drink problem but obviously her immune system was still OK, thought Kendra, observing how well her stitches had healed. ‘Annie’ – she glanced back – ‘Annie and I haven’t said this before, but here we go: you’ve got to think, really seriously, about getting help.’

‘Christ, that’s what everyone’s saying. “Get help.” I had Andrea on at me about it last week.’

‘Good. What did she say?’

Sal was surprised by the snap in Kendra’s tone. She had always been so gentle, even when she was annoyed. It was a new timbre to her voice, and not very attractive.

‘She gave me the names of some places. Drying-out clinics, I suppose. She said she could get me leave. But I know I don’t need it. I accept that I have to drink less, but I don’t need to go to some bin. I just need to pace myself better and, if I could get out of that flat, which I do find very depressing, that would help a lot.’

Annie finally spoke. ‘I think you’re wrong there. You do need help. You need to go somewhere away from all of this.’ She waved her arm. ‘Us, your work, that crowd you hang out with, probably that guy Pete. That’s the point of those places. They really get to the root of what your problem is. God knows, you need it.’

‘You’re a fine one to speak,’ Sal flung back. ‘I mean, look at you. Completely miserable, aren’t you? Maybe you need to get something sorted out too.’

‘Stop it. This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ Kendra butted in. ‘Of course Annie’s miserable.’ She prevented herself from saying that anybody would be if they were married to Charlie. ‘But that’s not why we’re here, is it? It’s you. Gioia always says there’s never a good day to give up sniffing glue. There’s never going to be a better time for you to give up alcohol.’

Sal stopped and looked down at the water as her two friends watched her. ‘Yeah, Gioia got that line from
Airplane
. Everyone knows it,’ she barked. Above her a formation of Canada geese squawked noisily on their migration. She didn’t know why but she
was starting to cry. She felt the way she had when she had got on the Tube that day and had been overwhelmed by the mess she was in. It was
all
a mess. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was something she should do. Anything was better than feeling like this – trapped and, even with her two best friends beside her, utterly lonely.

Annie looked at the small suitcase Sal was carrying as she emerged from the Earls Court flat. It drew attention to her fragile appearance, her smallness. She was devoid of the energy that usually made her appear taller, more substantial.

‘Well, it’s not for long, is it?’ Sal commented, seeing their looks. Neither Annie nor Kendra reminded her that it would be at least three weeks and quite possibly nearer six. Let her enjoy denial while she could.

Annie drove, with Sal in the front beside her, following the seating plan she and Kendra had decided on.

‘It’s important we don’t infantilize her. She needs to feel that this is a decision she’s made herself, like an adult, not because we’re coming over all parental and telling her what to do,’ Kendra had said as they drove to pick her up.

South London stretched on for ever but eventually they passed the areas that Kendra never even realized were still part of the city – New Cross, Eltham, Sidcup – and the landscape changed. Their route took them through fields with only a few houses dotted among them, then a last turning to the right, down a short wooded track and past metal gates.

‘Christ, it’s a bit
Hound of the Baskervilles
. It looks terrifying.’ Sal masked her true terror with a riff that took them through the parking lot and into the front hall of a large house with ruddy Virginia creeper covering the stonework and part of the huge windows. The quiet added to the unnerving quality, as if whatever was happening there was disguised.

‘Maybe we’ve got the wrong place. Let’s leave,’ Sal offered hopefully, lighting a cigarette.

‘Is this Sal Turner?’ A woman in a navy sailor’s sweater with the
naïve face of a nun came to meet them. Funny, wasn’t it, thought Sal rebelliously, how religious nuts always looked like this. Christ, they weren’t going to make her go all religious, were they? That would be the final straw. Locked up and coming out a Jesus freak, sandals and all. ‘I’m Sarah’ – the woman’s handshake was soft and undemanding – ‘one of your counsellors.’

Annie was standing by the door, her hands in the pockets of the navy cashmere coat she wore, even though the weather was still mild. She had offered to drive, as neither of the others could, and Sal had been adamant that she didn’t want her parents with her. But now she was desperate to leave. The place was so gloomy.

‘I’m going to hang around outside.’ She came up to Sal and gave her a hug. ‘See you soon. I’ll call.’

‘We don’t allow phone calls here. Your friend will be able to telephone you, but external communication is tightly controlled while in treatment.’ Sarah looked at Sal. ‘I’ll take you to your room. Your roommates are in group right now – that’s a group session. You’ll meet them soon. You did remember that no reading materials are allowed, didn’t you?’

As she led Sal off towards a huge staircase that climbed darkly up the hallway, allowing in none of the autumn sunlight, Kendra stood watching from below. How could they be abandoning Sal to this? But then she remembered Gioia, who was at this precise moment in a difficult meeting with a team from the council, and the sadness, rage and frustration that she was having to deal with, daily. Something had had to be done, and this was that something.

Annie listened to the waste disposal churning the skin of her orange and apple along with the crusts of Charlie’s toast. Behind her, she knew he would be flicking through the
Daily Mail
, licking the third finger of his right hand before using it to turn the pages. His hair, wet from the shower, was slicked back, giving him the look of a polished thug. He’d just bought a new coat in the Harrods sale, camel wool with a wide astrakhan collar, commenting, as he regarded himself, that he rather liked the Rachman look. On the same shopping trip he’d bought her a new Donna Karan dress that fitted tightly to her shape, its boat neck carved to expose the line of her shoulder blades. He’d picked out one with a deep V neckline, but she liked the one with a shallow neck and long sleeves which she could wear to the office.

‘I’ve got to run. I’m meeting Paddy at the old Elephants shop. Can’t remember if I told you – they’re turning it into a sandwich bar. It’s the first of a chain they’re planning.’

‘Sounds good. I’ve got a lot of time for Paddy and Marcus. They’ve made the Bank a roaring success.’ He dabbed his mouth, with a piece of paper towel. ‘Don’t work too hard, babe. Sometimes I think you should just give this PR lark up and we should have a real go on the baby front.’ Even Annie’s back view, as she wiped down the sink, managed to convey her displeasure. ‘Anyway … remember we’re having dinner with Mark and Soph tonight. I’ve booked San Lorenzo.’

By the time Annie arrived at the shop, Paddy was already there, running his hand over the finish of the empty cool cabinets where the sandwiches would be stacked.

‘This idea is sure-fire. Haven’t you had enough of those horrible tubs of junk waiting to be spread on plastic bread? The ready-packed,
super-fresh sandwich is what the customer wants.’ Paddy presented this thought with a flourish, taking in the whole room. ‘So what do you think?’

Annie had been in the business long enough to know that the definition of an opinion altered when you were hired as PR. She did think the sandwich chain was a clever idea but, even were that not the case, she would have kept that thought to herself. Personally, she didn’t like all the zinc he was using, but she could see it gave the place the patina of a professional kitchen. And it looked clean. Not like all those old sandwich places.

‘It’s a terrific concept, and this is the perfect location. There’s tons of little fashion businesses starting up round about and people need somewhere easy to get their lunch, grab a coffee. With your and Marcus’s track record and our campaign, I feel very confident. I’ve already had requests from the
Independent
for the exclusive. I think that’s the right one to go with – they’re new, different, attracting a younger readership. And we’re working with the
Standard
, not just for a review but aiming for a vox pop on launch day – nab some people on the street and ask them how this kind of place will change their lunchtime. It’s three weeks till opening, isn’t it?’