One Step Closer to You (19 page)

The day after I’ve walked out on Matt, Aunt Viv leads me into a small church in Primrose Hill, filled with chairs lined up in rows. Dread cramps my stomach. I feel angry that she made me come here when I could be with Louis. I fidget, scratch my arm, run a hand through my hair again and again. I reach into my handbag, pull out a piece of chewing gum. Louis is with Uncle Hugo. ‘I’ll manage,’ he’d said to me. ‘How hard can it be changing a nappy? Can do it with my eyes shut.’

I bite my lip, wanting to turn and run.

I told Aunt Viv and Hugo repeatedly that my drinking was under control, and now that Matthew and I had split up, everything would change. ‘
He
was the problem. I’ll stop now,’ I’d promised. But instead, Aunt Viv has arranged an assessment tomorrow with a psychologist who specialises in addiction. ‘I met her through AA and I know you’ll like
her.’ And not only that, here she is, leading me into this room with a bunch of losers. When I see the Twelve Steps written on a large board at the front, the word ‘God’ keeps on flashing in front of me.

‘This isn’t for me.’ I tug at her arm, like a child wanting to leave a grown-up party. ‘Please, Aunt Viv.’

Slowly she walks on as if she can’t hear me.

There are a couple of guys near the back wearing headphones, one rocking back and forth in his chair. The other man’s arms are covered in tattoos. There’s a woman, heavily made up with bright-yellow hair and green eyeshadow. She looks as if she’s married to a packet of cigarettes. I notice another woman wearing a pearl necklace over her polo-neck and carrying a Cath Kidston bag. She looks as if she’s on her way to the Chelsea Flower Show. Aunt Viv stops at a table laid out with mugs and biscuits and asks an old man wearing a tweed jacket for two cups of tea. ‘Sugar?’ He smiles sympathetically at me. ‘Or are you sweet enough, pet?’

I pay no attention, deciding to keep my head down from now on. I don’t fit in here. I am not one of these people.

*

‘Can I remind you, it’s no smoking?’ says a man sitting behind the front desk. ‘So if you need a cigarette, please go outside, but can you keep the doors shut at all times? Right. I think that about covers the house rules. I’d like to warmly welcome all our regular members and also any newcomers.
Is there anyone new here today who would like to introduce themselves?’

Blood rushes to my ears. My heart thuds against my chest. I keep my head down, but can sense Aunt Viv willing me to raise my hand.

‘Don’t worry, it’s not to put you in the limelight,’ the man continues, ‘but simply to welcome you.’

There’s another long agonising silence. I can hear someone unwrapping what sounds like a sweet wrapper. Finally a man says, ‘Hi, I’m Ryan. This is my first meeting.’

‘It’s really good to have you here with us, Ryan.’ A further silence follows, and I continue to stare at my feet, noticing how old and grubby most people’s shoes are, except for Aunt Viv’s heels. ‘Right, well I’d like to introduce you to our chair today. Lots of you will know her. Neve, over to you.’

*

‘It’s lovely to be talking to my home group,’ Neve begins, people still entering the church hall. ‘I had a rather funny journey here. You lot will appreciate this story. So I’m in a bit of a hurry after work, going too fast, and a police car stops me. I step out of my car, cop pretends to be examining my tyres and then he asks me when was the last time I’d had a drink. I reply, rather smugly, “Twenty-ninth September 2005, 5 p.m., Phoenix Airport, Arizona.”’

A few people laugh and mutter to themselves.

‘I came to my first meeting seven years ago,’ she continues.
‘I had lost my home, my marriage, my friends and I was facing the possibility of losing my children too.’

The room turns silent.

‘I started drinking when I was eleven. I don’t know why; it’s a question I often ask myself since I had everything you could ask for. All I can say is I felt this hole in my heart, like I didn’t belong in my school, to my family, to anything around me. Growing up, I’d hang out with my older step-brother and his friends. They wanted to form their own band. At the time I thought they were cool. Looking back now they were pretty seedy, letting a schoolgirl drink and smoke pot with them. I loved the feeling drink gave me, the buzz. I was a hyperactive child, in a bad way, and needed the pot to stop me doing crazy things. I didn’t think much of school, it was a waste of time when all I wanted to do was smoke weed and carry a guitar on my back.’

I shift in my seat, hearing myself saying the exact same thing to Hugo.

‘I carried on drinking throughout my teens and twenties. It was fun at first. Let’s face it drinking
is
fun. I loved dancing on tables, flirting with the guys, grabbing the microphone off the father of the bride and belting out Whitney Houston.’

A few people laugh.

‘But it becomes fun with consequences. The stories get darker. I began to let people down; I’d put myself in danger of blacking out, waking up and not knowing where the
hell I was, or cycling home from the pub in my flip-flops, pissed and without a helmet. I went from one bum job to another, never lasting long because I couldn’t stand any responsibility. One time I slept with my best friend’s boyfriend, something I regret to this day because I lost the most important friendship in my life. Before you know it, the fun stops and all you’re left with is consequences.’

Slowly I lift my head when she stops talking, hoping she’ll carry on.

‘I married in my late twenties, thinking that would put a stop to my drinking, but I can’t have been that confident since I was determined to have the wedding at noon so I couldn’t get plastered first.’ She laughs sadly. ‘I fell pregnant shortly afterwards and was certain that this,
surely
, would be the end of my drinking and wild days. Automatically I’d stop, right? I wasn’t career-minded in any way. I wanted to be a mum. I wanted to be a good wife. Despite my rebellious streak, deep down I’m a fairly traditional girl at heart, brought up by conservative parents.’

I glance at Aunt Viv. Is this some kind of set-up? Is she going to tell me her husband hit her next and she escaped and lived with her aunt and she has a partially-sighted brother? But she’s sitting peacefully beside me, her eyes closed.

‘I couldn’t give up, even when I had my first child. I had affairs. One moment I was committing adultery; the next I was in Homebase choosing paint for the nursery. I mean,
that’s surely insanity, isn’t it? Some affairs were with abusive men. I thought I deserved it. In a way it made me feel better. I was sinking deeper and deeper into a black hole. When I had child number two, my parents begged me to see a doctor, but I was still in denial. My husband wanted a divorce and threatened he’d file for custody. In the end my father booked me into rehab.’ She coughs awkwardly. ‘I know I was fortunate to have parents desperate to help, but still … I wanted to die,’ she says with emotion. ‘I was broken physically, mentally, spiritually. I was riddled with guilt and shame. How could someone like me, who was given the best start in life, screw it up so badly?’

I begin to cry, feeling pain from years ago, lodged in my chest.

‘I began to understand that alcoholism isn’t a choice. Who would choose this life? It’s an illness. I was sick, not some monster. In rehab I got down on my hands and knees and prayed for a second chance. The moment I realised I needed help was the moment when I could start doing something about it. Those weeks in rehab taught me that I’d lost enough; I wasn’t going to lose my children. They were only little. I loved them. I returned home and came straight to AA. I tried to work it out with my husband, but it was too late, our marriage was over, but he was willing for the sake of the children to stay on good terms. My parents looked after my kids, or I arranged babysitting. I did ninety-ninety. Ninety AA meetings in ninety days. If I could take drugs
and drink every day I could definitely do an hour’s meeting each day too. I owed it to my children, to myself. People with cancer need chemo. AA was my medicine. During my first meeting I was scared. I was crying, snot streaming down my nose.’

The old man who was serving tea hands me a hand-kerchief with the initial ‘H’ in the corner. Until now I hadn’t even noticed him sitting next to me.

‘I got myself a sponsor. She took me through all the steps, made me confront the things I’d done, the hurt and damage I’d caused others. The truth is, once I said “I’m an addict”, giving up drink wasn’t as hard as I’d expected, but I was still a broken person inside. It wasn’t easy, but each day, with support, I grew a little bit stronger. And then, one morning I woke up and noticed a ray of sunshine coming through my bedroom window. It had been a long time since I’d seen the sun, even bothered to look outside. Then my children jumped onto the bed and we laughed about something stupid, before they asked me if we could make pancakes for breakfast. I felt hungry for the first time in years. The black was lifting; the clouds were parting. There was no grand event, no major turning-point, I just had this feeling deep inside that everything was going to be all right.’

Finally I look up at Neve, wiping away a tear. I blow my nose again. Aunt Viv clutches my hand.

‘I’m now in a new relationship with someone I met in AA.’

There are a few smiles and nods, as if this happens a lot. ‘And a lot of you will know I trained to become a yoga teacher. I like to work with people who have been through illness or trauma.’

I want to be like her. I want to swap this chair for hers.

‘I never thought I
deserved
to be happy again. For anyone here struggling, for any newcomers, please believe you’re in the right place. Don’t waste time. Get a sponsor …’

‘Will you be mine?’

There’s a long pause. Chairs scrape, people mutter. A few people turn round and face me. Why are they are staring at me? Why’s everyone talking? It’s only then that I realise the words came out of my mouth.

‘Of course,’ she says warmly, locating where I am sitting. ‘Come and chat to me at the end of the meeting.’

After Neve’s talk, the room opens up to members who want to share. There’s a pilot who confesses he’s been drunk many times before flying innocent passengers to their holiday destinations, none of them realising how lucky they are to step off the plane alive.

There’s an actress who says Hollywood turned her mad. ‘You have to be a certain person, fit in with the in crowd, be as thin as a stick insect. I feel like I’ve been wearing a mask all my life. When I ended up in some car park giving a random stranger a blow job during the Cannes Festival …’ She shakes her head with shame. ‘I don’t know who I am anymore.’

I discover the woman with bright-yellow hair and tight curls is called Denise and Denise had a difficult childhood. ‘My mum had what you call baby blues, but in those days you were assumed mad and stuck in some loony bin. My dad blamed me. I was living on the streets by the age of fifteen. I’d find bottles in dustbins and drink the dregs. I’d sleep with dealers in exchange for alcohol. Made me feel like shit, until one day I walked into AA, got myself clean.’

The man in the tweed jacket who offered me his hand-kerchief is called Harry. He tells the room it’s his birthday and that he’s been sober for twenty-three years. There’s clapping and out comes a chocolate cake lit with candles.

At the end of the meeting everyone stands and holds hands. Harry offers me his and to my surprise I take it. Aunt Viv takes my other hand, and together we say the serenity prayer.

It’s the afternoon of Janey’s wedding, and I’m waiting for Ben to pick me up and drive us to the registry office.

I look out of the window. The house feels quiet now that Louis is back at school. I think about the night before the autumn term began, how we went through all the things we were grateful for, Louis tucked up in bed.

‘Uncle Ben, Nellie and Emily. I’ve had the best summer, ever, Mum.’

Words that make my heart sing. ‘What was the best part of it?’

‘All of it! We did such
interesting
things. I liked the surfing on my little board.’

Ben, Emily, Louis, Nellie and I went on holiday to Polzeath a couple of weeks ago. We hired a self-catering cottage two minutes’ walk from the sea. I was in charge of the suncream and picnics. Ben taught Louis and Emily to surf on their child-friendly boards. Ben loves the sea. As a child he went on many holidays abroad. ‘Even if I hated my stepdad,
Grace and I did love the sandy beaches, jumping off our boat and snorkelling.’ He described to the children the colourful underwater world with its jellyfish and octopuses.

I was content to be watching them all from a distance, reading books on my Kindle, looking after Nellie and waving when they were up on their boards. Each time I venture into the water I hear the theme tune to
Jaws
, but Ben did persevere with me, and by the end of the week I could surf too, nothing ambitious, just on the boogie board. I found myself laughing out loud, it was so exhilarating coming in with the waves.

‘I liked the cricket with Big Ben too,’ Louis continued, making me realise with relief that he hadn’t asked questions about his father for some time.

‘I love you, Mum,’ he said when I turned off the light and left the room.

That evening I felt proud of us.

*

I glance at my watch. It’s close to four. Aunt Viv will have picked Louis and Emily up from school and taken them back to the café, and then she’s taking them on to my flat. A dogsitter is looking after Nellie. ‘She’s like my second child,’ Ben said.

The wedding is at five o’clock and then we’re heading to a Greek restaurant for supper and dancing. I jump when I hear my mobile ring. That’s probably Ben saying he’s running late. I dig it out of my handbag and glance at the
screen. Tentatively I pick up, only to hear a recorded voice saying I’ve won some money. I jump again when the buzzer rings.

*

Ben watches as I approach his car. I give him a twirl in my rose-pink dress that used to belong to Aunt Viv. ‘I can’t get away with it anymore, but you can,’ she’d said. My long dark hair is in a chignon, making me feel like a film star.

‘Ben?’

‘You’re beautiful,’ he says.

*

‘What’s the best wedding you’ve been to?’ I ask in the car, on our way to Marylebone.

He taps the wheel. ‘I went to an Indian-themed one, boiling hot day. The marquee was decorated with elephants, not real ones, now that
would
have been interesting. Great band, curry and cold beer. It was back in the good old days.’

‘Worst one?’

‘Oh, there are many. Well, not exactly bad ones, but awkward. I went to one in Greece and during the speeches the best man spoke for a little too long about the groom, if you know what I mean. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.’

‘Are they still married?’

‘To my amazement, yes.’

‘I remember one where you had to buy your own drinks.’

‘Shocking.’

‘Wouldn’t be so bad now.’

‘You can’t expect guests to buy drinks, that’s mean. Reminds me of a wedding I went to where we all had to clear up the morning after. I remember us scurrying around with black binbags.’

I laugh. ‘I’ve been to a few and made a total fool of myself. I’m looking forward to this one because I know I’ll behave.’

Ben glances at me. ‘Behave? Where’s the fun in that?’

*

The blue room smells of fresh flowers and is decorated with cream and lilac panelled walls. Upholstered chairs are lined up formally and Ben and I take a seat. Paul is at the front, dressed in a suit, looking relaxed as he greets guests. Janey’s mother is sitting close to him, wearing a lilac skirt and matching jacket. I go over to say hello and she asks warmly after my parents. When I return to my seat, I mutter to Ben that I used to go round to Janey’s house after school. I’ve never confessed to stealing a half bottle of wine and on another occasion, two cans of cider from their kitchen. ‘I stuck one up each jumper sleeve,’ I whisper naughtily.

Registry offices miss out on the theatre of a wedding, but there’s still a strong sense of anticipation as we wait for Janey to arrive. There’s a hushed silence when we hear footsteps from the corridor outside, Paul composing himself. She enters the room on the arm of her father, in a turquoise dress that floats down to her knees, her fair hair tied up in a fresh pale-pink rose that matches the rose in
Paul’s buttonhole. When they say their vows, their happiness is contagious. I want to stand up and clap.

After the service, guests pile into taxis and head to a restaurant in Chalk Farm. I know this place well; it’s owned by a Greek family and is one of Janey and my favourite haunts. When we arrive there is cheering from all the waiters and diners as we’re ushered upstairs into the private room, a large open space with its own bar. The tables are laid out in a U-shape and covered in white linen cloths, flowers and candles. A couple of waiters serve flutes of champagne and elderflower cordial. There’s a buzz of chat until Paul clinks his glass with a spoon, telling everyone that supper is served.

Janey approaches, squeezing my hand, before we both say how beautiful the other looks. ‘Now, Polly, I’ve put you next to Nat. He’s the only single guy here,’ she says. ‘He used to live with Paul at college. Lovely bloke but apparently snores
a lot
.’

Ben laughs.

‘And Ben, you’re over there.’ She points to the seat at the far end of the room ‘Next to Tatiana, recently divorced. A dentist.’

‘Ha ha,’ I say back to him, ‘a dentist. Open wide.’

Everyone sits down at the table, a feast of colour. There are lots of small white oval plates filled with different dips, meats, fish and vegetables; my mouth waters at the sight of prawns marinated in olive oil, lemon and garlic. The single man next to me, Nat, has dark hair that he styles
with a substantial amount of gel, rather like the man on the dating website. He picks up the bottle of wine, aims it towards my glass.

‘Thanks, but I don’t drink,’ I say before he can get any further.

He looks at me oddly, as if I’m mad; it’s the way I used to look at people who didn’t drink. ‘So, how do you know Janey?’

‘We’re old school friends.’ I watch Ben take his seat next to the dentist.

He nods. ‘Paul definitely got lucky.’

‘So, what do you do?’ It’s a question I hate, but out it comes, like some nervous disease.

As Nat tells me he’s an animator, my mind drifts to what Janey keeps on saying about us, especially after Ben’s date. ‘Diane really liked him, couldn’t understand why he didn’t call her again, but I think I know why.’ Why aren’t we together? It seems everyone thinks we should be a couple except for us.

As Nat tells me he’s shot some television commercials and animation films and lived in California, I find myself looking over to Ben again. It wouldn’t be true to say that I haven’t thought about it at all. When Ben said I was beautiful earlier this afternoon my heart did melt. But it’s Ben. I keep on fast-forwarding, only to imagine it coming to some horrible sticky end where we lose our friendship, our weekends together, Louis misses him and asks why he never sees
Uncle Ben anymore; it’s awkward at the school gates, both of us keeping our heads down, Jim caught in the middle. What Ben and I have is perfect so why go and ruin it with some romantic notion that we’re destined to be together? Look at how all my other relationships have turned out! I glance at Janey. She couldn’t believe we were in Cornwall for a week and, ‘not
once
did he try and make a move?’

I have no idea if Ben is attracted to me in that way. I’ve noticed a definite closeness, a few jokes about shagging, and he’s determined to put me off this single-parent dating website, but he hasn’t actually asked me out on a date. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about our camping trip, replaying the two of us dancing, his hand on my back, both of us laughing and feeling so free. I can tell him anything, and equally he can talk to me about anything too, and neither one of us feels judged. But surely, by now, something would have happened if Ben and I were into one another? As Janey had said, we spent a whole week together and if Ben did feel something for me, then that would have been the time to show it.

Nat distracts my thoughts, asking if I came to the wedding with anyone.

‘Ben,’ I say, gesturing to him. I tell Nat we went on a beach holiday recently to Cornwall, with our children.

‘How long have you been seeing him?’ Nat asks, faint disappointment in his tone, or am I imagining it?

‘Oh, we’re not together.’

‘Right,’ he says, perking up, but looking mildly confused.

I turn to him. ‘Do you think men and woman can be just friends?’

‘No way, not if the bloke finds the woman really attractive, like
When Harry Met Sally
.’

‘So it’s possible if he thinks she’s unattractive?’

‘Yeah.’ He looks at me. ‘But you’re not ugly.’

‘Thanks, I think. So you don’t have a
single
friend that’s a woman?’

He has to ponder on this. ‘One. Beth, but she’s a bit funny looking.’

‘Funny looking?’

‘She’s got these …’ He places his hands behind his ears, wiggles them, ‘sticky-out ears. To be honest, I mainly hang out with the lads. My industry is pretty male-dominated. I couldn’t go on holiday with an attractive woman and lie next to her on the beach, see her in a bikini and rub suncream on her back and not, you know, want to do it.’

Ben didn’t blink twice at me in my spotty bikini, and he slapped the suncream on my back as if it were Polyfilla.

‘Nicely put,’ says the man sitting on my other side. He’s Paul’s brother. ‘Sorry, couldn’t help eavesdropping. I was really close to this girl, Annie, right, and we’d been friends through college until we blew it one night getting drunker than usual and ended up in bed.’

‘Ah yes, alcohol always has a way of becoming involved,’ agrees Nat, asking me again if I’m sure I don’t want a drink.

‘Did you regret it?’ I ask.

‘Bitterly. We lost that trust, that sense of ease. We wasted something really special for nothing but a stupid drunken roll in the sack.’

You see. Paul’s brother gets it. It’s too bad if others don’t.

‘I have lots of friends who are men,’ says a blonde-haired woman in her forties placed opposite me. ‘I get different things from both. I love my girly friends, but I also like a male perspective.’

‘Rubbish,’ dismisses the man sitting next to her. ‘Sorry, but there’s no such thing as friendship between men and women, there’s always an imbalance somewhere.’

Soon comments are flying across our end of the table, the debate heating up.

‘Men can’t be just friends. We need more. We’re only human.’

‘Of course they can.’

‘What if that male friend has a partner though, or a wife?’ says Paul’s brother.

‘Good point. If Ben were dating, I’d have to take a step back. We wouldn’t be able to play chess at midnight,’ I say, thinking of our evenings in Cornwall.

‘You play chess at midnight?’ asks Nat. ‘That
is
weird. Why not strip poker?’

I laugh.

‘I bet you if Ben started dating,’ says Nat, ‘you’d turn into a green-eyed monster.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ I mutter. ‘No. I’d be happy for him.’

‘Well then,’ concludes Nat, ‘if Ben isn’t into you, you can take comfort knowing he thinks you’re a bit funny looking.’

Paul comes down to our end of the table and asks if we’re all happy, before refilling wine glasses.

‘We’re talking about men and women and if they can be just friends,’ says Nat.

Paul nods. ‘They can be.’

‘See.’ I nudge Nat.

‘As long as the man’s gay,’ Paul winks, ‘or the woman’s funny looking.’

*

At the end of the speeches, Janey stands up. I can see she’s flushed from champagne and wine. ‘I know it’s not normal for the wife to say anything …’

Everyone in the room cheers.

‘But I’ve never done things normally. I
love
this man.’ She turns to Paul, ‘And I’m so excited to be your wife.’ We all stand up and raise our glasses to Janey and Paul.

Soon the tables are cleared and music is playing.

‘Mercifully short speeches,’ Ben mutters as we watch a couple of Paul’s friends dancing, including Tatiana and Nat. ‘What was Nat like?’

‘Nice.’

‘What were you talking about?’

‘Oh, this and that. How about you and the dentist?’

‘Nothing I don’t know about root canal treatment now.’

‘Ouch.’

We watch Nat and Paul’s brother, both of them competing for the world’s worst dancer. They remind me of Hugo on the dance floor. ‘When you’re drunk you dance as if nobody is watching,’ says Ben, ‘and when you’re sober, you should still dance as if nobody is watching. Shall we?’ He offers me his arm.

Ben and I dance. We dance for the rest of the evening, me thinking how I shall remember every single moment of this wedding when I wake up tomorrow morning, and how lovely it is to be in the arms of a man who can dance.

At the end of the evening, on our way to the car, Ben and I notice Nat and Tatiana stumbling across the road hailing a cab. The taxi pulls over and they hop onto the back seat together. ‘That turned out well,’ I say.

‘I’m guessing I was meant to be going home with the dentist, so that turned out well for me too.’

Inside the car, Ben turns on the engine. ‘Are we ever going to meet anyone, Ben, if we spend all this time together?’ I try not to sound serious, but deep down I know now Janey has a point.

‘I like spending time with you,’ he says, driving us back home. ‘I don’t want to be with anyone else.’