Ice and a Slice (27 page)

“You shouldn’t shout, though, if you want things to be private.”

“Nanna said we were to check for dirty plates,” Kevin added, picking up a coffee mug and a bowl still half full of peanuts from the table.”

“I said SHUT UP! And put those bloody peanuts back.”

SJ swallowed a smile as Sophie and Kevin backed out of the room and turned her attention back to her sister.

“You were lucky Clive didn’t throw you out.” SJ decided to press home her advantage with uncharacteristic ruthlessness.

“Yes, I know.” To her surprise, Alison’s eyes were suddenly awash with tears. “I am sorry, Sarah-Jane. I know what I did was awful.”

Some of SJ’s anger melted in the face of her sister’s obvious distress. “Yes, it was,” she said, softer now. “I know you’ve never liked me that much, Ali, but I still didn’t think you’d do something like that.”

“Why do you think I’ve never liked you?” Alison rummaged around in her bag for her compact. She sounded quite surprised.

“Cutting the tail off My Little Pony because you wanted to make a wig for your Barbie; swapping my best top for those sparkly jeans you used to wear night and day; pretending to be ill so Mum and Dad couldn’t come to my school play.” SJ counted on her fingers as she went, and noticed her nails were growing back nicely. She couldn’t have bitten them lately. “Not to mention hiding my English assignment on the Brontes – I know that was you. Need I go on?”

“I was jealous. I did most of those things to get Mum’s attention because I thought she loved you better than me.”

“What? Now that really
is
ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious. She never stopped going on about you. All I ever heard when I was growing up was, ‘Why can’t you be more like Sarah-Jane? More sensible, more grown up, more responsible’. I was sick to death of you being held up like some paragon of virtue.”

She sounded quite miffed and it was SJ’s turn to be surprised, although actually several of those phrases rang true. She’d overheard Mum saying them herself. Maybe her childhood hadn’t been as black and white as it seemed either. Maybe all children thought their parents loved their siblings better than them.

“I’ll get us a nice glass of wine.” Alison couldn’t resist a smirk. “Oh no, you can’t, can you? Never mind, I’ll have yours. I’ll get you an orange juice, shall I?”

“I’ll get the drinks,” SJ said, not entirely sure her sister wouldn’t be tempted to slip a gin into hers in the misguided belief that what the eye couldn’t see the heart wouldn’t grieve. Although, on second thoughts, perhaps she was misjudging her again – she’d seemed pretty clued up earlier.

“Cheers,” Alison purred, stretching her hands above her head and arching her back like a contented cat. “While you’re out there, make sure they’re not slacking with the washing up. I don’t want Mum doing anything – she’s done enough slaving in the kitchen today.”

“Sure.”

“Oh, and Sarah-Jane…?”

“Yes,” she said, hesitating in the doorway and glancing back at her sister, who looked nothing like the monster she’d once perceived her to be. It was strange how twisted her thinking had once been.

“I’m glad we’re talking again. I’ve really missed having someone to have a good old barney with.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Tanya didn’t respond to the Christmas card SJ had sent. Neither had she responded to the birthday good wishes. But on Dorothy’s advice SJ didn’t try to contact her again.

“The right time to make amends will come along,” Dorothy told her softly. “But there’s no rush, hen. You just get yourself sorted out for now. Get a bit of sobriety behind you.”

So SJ spent the first few months of the New Year looking into the possibility of doing more teaching privately. She couldn’t face going back into Adult Education; her heart wasn’t in it any more. She didn’t think she’d get enough students to fill more than one Poetry and a Pint class, but she was contemplating teaching other forms of word craft in a fun environment. Creative Writing appealed, or Making Shakespeare Fun. That would be excellent in her room at the Red Lion. It had just the right atmosphere for studying old plays.

“I’m also thinking about changing the name from Poetry and a Pint to something more appropriate,” she told Dorothy, one evening after dinner. “Something that’s not quite as alcohol related.”

“Such as?” Dorothy looked interested.

“That’s the trouble, I can’t think of anything that’s not alcohol related – Poetry and a Pina Colada keeps buzzing round my mind for some reason. And the only other thing I can think of is Poetry and a Peanut.” She sighed.

“I think you should probably leave it as it is,” Dorothy said. “Pint doesn’t have to mean alcohol anyway, does it?”

SJ giggled. “No, you’re right. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it – and I do like teaching at the Red Lion, even though it’s a bit of a trek now. But I’d quite like to do some other classes that aren’t academic as well.”

There were a lot of possibilities. Adult Literacy had always appealed, although she planned to do that on a voluntary basis – just for the sheer satisfaction of introducing people to the joy of reading.

She and Tom had decided to make their separation permanent and she’d agreed to a small settlement, which covered the money she’d put into the house when they bought it. She’d agreed that he could pay it in instalments so he didn’t have to sell the house. It was the least he deserved, she thought idly, when she went over to talk to him about it one bright evening when the air was balmy with summer.

He looked older and wearier than ever, and she guessed he was still working all hours. Although the kitchen was warm because he’d been cooking, the rest of the house felt cold and unlived in. Outside, the grass needed cutting and the flowerbeds were overgrown with weeds.

They discussed finances and how Ash was and SJ felt more relaxed with him than she ever had in the past.

As she got up to go, she said softly, “Tom, I know I owe you a huge apology. It must have been hell living with me. I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t hell.” He smiled at her. “Besides, you weren’t the only one at fault. Who’d want to be married to a husband who was never here?”

“And who’d want a drunk for a wife?”

“Don’t beat yourself up, SJ. I never noticed your drinking and hey – I always did like my pub paraphernalia, didn’t I? Some might say I was lucky, I collected the ultimate in breweriana – a real live alcoholic.”

SJ laughed. It was the last thing she’d have done a year ago. And it was the last thing he’d have said a year ago, too. She wondered what had brought about the change in him.

“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked curiously.

“Who’d have me?” He reddened, and suddenly she knew she was right on target. There was someone else.

Meeting her eyes, he nodded. “You always were a mind reader, SJ – pity I wasn’t the same with you – but yeah, okay, there is someone. It’s early days, but I’ve been on a few dates with my boss. She does even longer hours than me, but at least we see each other at work.”

“Be happy,” she told him. And she meant it.

As she left Kentish Town and headed back towards Dorothy’s, SJ reflected there were only two people left to make amends to now – Tanya and Michael. She decided to leave this for a while longer.

Summer moved slowly into autumn and one beautiful Saturday in late October, SJ woke up, knowing it would be today that she would go and make her peace. She had no idea why she felt it so strongly, but just that Dorothy, so wise and patient, had been right. Deep down in her bones, she just knew.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ringing Tanya’s doorbell was far scarier than when she’d first pressed the buzzer at S.A.A.D, all those months ago. SJ wasn’t sure what she’d do if Tanya slammed the door in her face. All she knew was that she had to do this because she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try, just one more time, to make amends properly.

There was a new car in the drive, a BMW Sports – Tanya had always wanted one of those. No one came, and SJ’s stomach crunched and churned. Fear always made her feel sick. Perhaps they were out. She was about to turn away when she saw movement behind the frosted glass. The door swung open.

“Can I help you?” asked a Bet Lynch lookalike with a towel turbaned round her head. She must have just got out of the bath.

“I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m looking for Tanya and Michael Wiltshire. Do they still live here?”

“No, love. We bought the place off them – ooh, six months ago.”

“Did they leave a forwarding address?”

“Yeah – I’ll get it for you.”

“Who is it?” A man’s voice called from the depths of the house.

“I’m a friend. Sarah-Jane Crosse.”

“Won’t keep you a tick.”

When she came back her face was different – guarded where before it had been open. “Sorry, we don’t have an address after all. Must have lost it.” She made to close the door and SJ took a step forward.

“Please, could I just leave you a number …?”

She shook her head, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry, love.”

SJ knew there was no point in pressing it. Tanya and Michael hadn’t wanted her to catch up with them. And she wasn’t really surprised. Feeling hot, despite the crisp autumnal air, SJ got back in her car and drove slowly home.

Dorothy was working, her fingers flying over the keyboard, when SJ committed the cardinal sin of disturbing her. She took in a coffee to soften the blow and put it by her elbow.

For a while she was ignored and then Dorothy tutted and stopped typing. “Well now you’ve broken my train of thought, you may as well tell me what’s on your mind. Did it not go well?”

“They’d moved. What if they had to leave the area because of me?”

“Och - i
HH
sn’t it funny how we assume the world revolves around us! It rarely does, you know.”

“Ouch.”

“Perhaps you could try her office.”

“That’s tricky. Tanya works from home. But I could go and see Michael. If I had the nerve,” she added, half to herself.

“Come on now, SJ, you’re not giving up already. That’s not like you!”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Michael’s an entertainments manager. He works in a club. I have enough trouble with the alcohol aisle in Tesco,” she said wistfully. “How am I going to cope with a club?”

Dorothy patted her arm. “You’re not going in there for a drink though, are you? Just concentrate on the job in hand. You’ll be fine.”

SJ hoped she was right as she parked outside The Cage that evening. She’d decided there was no point in hanging around. Now she’d made up her mind to see Tanya she wanted to get it done.

There were already a few people queuing to go in, and a bouncer was chatting to a woman near the entrance. SJ had never liked clubs much – she found them intimidating. She took a deep breath and walked to the head of the queue.

“I’m here to see Michael Wiltshire – would you please tell him it’s Sarah-Jane Crosse.” Would he come out and see her? She thought he might. If only to make sure she wasn’t about to blab to his colleagues about his private life.

She was right. Less than five minutes later, Michael appeared. He looked embarrassed. His hands were buried in the pockets of his linen suit and his movements were agitated. Sweat sheened his face.

“What do you want?”

She nearly lost her nerve. Why had she decided to do this with an audience of bouncers and clubbers? Get a grip, SJ. She had rehearsed what she was going to say, which started with the line, “I’m not here to cause trouble,” but it was too long and convoluted. In the end she just met his gaze steadily and said, “Please ask Tanya to call me. Please, Michael. This is my new mobile number.”

Fleetingly she thought he might not take it, but he snatched the card from her hand and spun away, his pale suit swallowed up by the dark innards of the club. She wondered if he’d throw it in the first bin he passed. She’d have to risk that. She could do no more.

Dorothy agreed. “Sometimes friendships can’t be mended,” she said. “But I hope I’m proved wrong.”

After a fortnight of silence SJ had to accept that Dorothy wasn’t going to be proved wrong.

And then she got the text.

If you want to see me, come to this address – Saturday. Ten a.m. Tanya.

The address turned out to be in Bermondsey, not all that far from where they’d lived before, but the house looked bigger than their last one. The fact that Michael’s car was in the drive made her feel even more apprehensive. But then she owed Michael a huge apology too, and it hadn’t been appropriate to make it outside The Cage. So it was right he should be here.

Once more she’d prepared the words in her head. But in the end, when Tanya opened the door, all she could manage was a squeaky, “Thank you for seeing me.”

For a long, long moment, Tanya didn’t speak. SJ could see half a dozen emotions in her eyes. Pain, regret, guilt, embarrassment, surprise, but the overriding one – the one her face eventually settled into – was sorrow.

“Please can I come in?”

“Michael’s here,” Tanya eventually managed, a small sigh escaping from her lips – which were beautifully made up, even on a Saturday morning.

“I know. I want to see him too.”

Tanya held the door open and SJ stepped into the unfamiliar house. The hallway was wider, the carpet was fluffier, and the stairs were in a different place, but everything had the same smell. That mix of citrus furniture polish underlaid with the Classique scent Tanya always wore. Maybe her senses were heightened, SJ thought, trembling. They said that happened to men who were walking to the gallows. That the last breath of air was the sweetest they ever knew.

She followed Tanya through to the kitchen, where Michael was sitting at the table reading a paper.

“We’ve got a visitor.”

“So I see.” His face tightened as he stood up, and SJ’s heart felt as if it were on some invisible ratchet that had just been knocked down several notches. She could almost hear the clunk, clunk in her chest.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see, but I’m here to say I’m sorry. So very sorry about what I said – what I’ve done to you both. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I know I don’t deserve that.” Oh God, she was in danger of going into the I’m-not-fit-to-lick-your-boots routine that Dorothy had warned her about.

She attempted to straighten her shoulders and look Michael in the eyes – which wasn’t difficult, as they were more or less the same height. Even though she felt much smaller than him. Much smaller than both of them. She cleared her throat and waited.

Still neither of them spoke. SJ wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this granite mountain of silence.

“That’s basically all I came to say. I – er – well – it’s probably best if I get out of your hair now.”

She was mid-turn, berating herself for being such a spineless coward, when Michael finally spoke. “Hang about, SJ. I’ll put the kettle on. I’d offer you something stronger – you look like you need it – but we haven’t got any drink in the house.”

“I don’t drink any more…” she began, before realising it was his attempt at humour.

Behind her, Tanya pulled out a chair. “Sit down, SJ. We don’t want you to go. Do we, Michael?”

His eyes said no and, feeling light-headed with relief, SJ did as she was bid and sat down. While Michael got mugs from the cupboard and spooned in coffee, Tanya folded the newspaper to clear space from the table. Such ordinary things – as though she were any other visitor, here for a normal Saturday morning chat and hadn’t just walked back into their lives after a gap of more than a year.

“Have you really stopped drinking?” Tanya asked, settling opposite, her green eyes curious.

“It’s coming up to fourteen months,” SJ told her proudly, and waited while Tanya worked this out.

“I haven’t had a drink since – well, since around the time of Mum and Dad’s party.” She’d never told Tanya about her final drink, or about ending up in hospital. She’d never had the chance. “I go to my meetings three times a week,” she added.

“You still need them – after all this time?” Tanya sounded incredulous.

“They keep me sober. And besides, I’ve made quite a few friends.” God, she was beginning to sound like Dorothy.

“Do you still see that counsellor of yours – Kit, wasn’t it?”

SJ shook her head. “No – he packed me off into the big bad world. Well, actually I packed myself off. I had to grow up sooner or later.”

“And what about Tom? Last time Michael saw him, he mentioned you weren’t together any more.”

“That’s right. We’re getting divorced.”

“I’m sorry.” Tanya reached across the table and took her hand, and for the first time since she’d walked into the house, SJ thought she might crumble.

“Don’t be sorry. We weren’t right for each other. We should never have got married in the first place.”

“Even so, it’s sad when a marriage has to end,” Tanya went on. “Was it the drinking? Tom never could stand anything that was different to the norm, could he?” She glanced at her husband as she spoke. “He speaks to Michael now if they bump into each other at the sports centre, but he can’t look him in the eye. I think he’s scared Michael might make some sort of move on him.”

“Not that I’m worried about Tom looking me in the eye,” Michael added with a wry grin. “The main thing is I can look myself in the eye these days – in the mirror, I mean.”

“Me too. I used to hate what I saw in the mirror.” SJ clapped her hand over her mouth. Tactless. “What I mean is, I lost all my self-esteem – I didn’t know who I was…” She was pretty sure she was digging the hole deeper so she shut up.

Michael made a little hmmph sound of amusement. “Don’t beat yourself up. In some ways you did me a favour, SJ. I’m not ashamed of who I am any more. It’s one hell of a relief to feel like that after so many years of despising myself.”

“I know,” SJ said with feeling. “But I’m still sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have told anyone about your private life –”

“It’s okay,” he said, slanting a glance at Tanya. “It’s okay with us. Isn’t it, love?”

Tanya nodded slowly. “I’m really glad you got in touch. I’d have contacted you sooner or later – only I wasn’t sure exactly where you lived.”

“Didn’t you get my change of address card?”

“Yes, but I tore it up – I was still too cross with you back then. And I was damned if I was going to ask Tom where you were.” She hesitated. “Oh hell, SJ, I’m sorry. But we’ve had a lot going on.”

“Yes, so I see. Moving house... work…And the last thing you needed was an extra load of hassle from me.”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,” Tanya said diplomatically, but SJ knew she was right on target.

“I wouldn’t have talked to me either,” she said quietly.

Tanya blinked and stared down at her fingernails, which were pale pink with tiny silver stars. There was a small silence. SJ felt she should fill it but she didn’t know quite what to say.

“You’re looking very well.”

“Thanks.” Tanya exchanged glances with Michael. SJ wondered if she was outstaying her welcome. She’d finished her coffee. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to be annoying either – maybe they’d only let her in out of kindness.

She shuffled through her bag for her car keys. If Tanya looked relieved she’d take it as her cue to leave.

“Actually, SJ, the truth is, I was a bit scared about getting in touch again.” Tanya bit her lip. “I thought you might hate me. After all, I knew you had a drink problem – I knew you couldn’t help being an…”

“An alcoholic,” SJ supplied gently.

“Yes...” Tanya blushed. “You’d told me about it enough. And I knew you’d split up with Tom, but I didn’t stick around, did I? I deserted you in your hour of need.”