Hit and Run, Maria Frankland [books like harry potter txt] 📗

Chapter 15

I switch the engine off and reach for Jack’s hand. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can have a few days at home. Grandad’s sticking around.”

“I want to see my friends.” All the sparkle from Jack’s eyes has faded. I must respect his decision to carry on going to school. It’s his way of dealing with things. Besides, it gives me a break as well. I seem to have retreated into a numbness.

“I’ll come in with you Jack.” I press the release button on my seatbelt. “I want a quick word with your teacher.”

“Why?” He looks nervous, possibly worried that my presence will attract more attention. He’s always been a reserved lad at school, and more interested in other kids than the limelight being on him - it’s probably one thing that makes him popular.

“I just want to let her know what’s going on and ask her to keep an extra special eye on you.”

“OK.”

He lets go of my hand as soon as we enter the playground and runs towards a group of boys who are playing football. I stride towards the entrance and ring the bell, ignoring the sideways glances and mothers not-so-subtly nudging one another as I pass them. I’m so sick of being playground gossip fodder.

“How are you doing Fiona?” I glance back. It’s Sam’s mum. I’ve forgotten her name again.

“Erm, I’m OK.” I call back over my shoulder as I’m buzzed into the school. What does she expect me to say? I’m falling apart and would give anything just to drown my sorrows.

It’s true. It comes in waves. Usually I’m fine, then suddenly a craving takes hold of me. When I return to the car, I ring my AA sponsor. This is, after all, what she’s there for.

She gasps when I tell her about Rob. “I’ve seen the story in the news, but I didn’t know it was your husband! How on earth are you coping?”

“It’s as though it’s happening to someone else, but I can’t lie… I keep feeling as though I need to drink. To take the edge off, and maybe to help me sleep. I keep waking up and what’s happened hits me again. Last night was terrible. My brain was going around and around all night.”

“It’s natural you’ll feel like a drink.” The good thing about the AA sponsor arrangement is that she’s been exactly where I am. But she’s further along the path of sobriety. “But you do recognise, don’t you, that to give in, and to have a drink, even just one, will make the problem even worse than it already is. You’ve done so well up to now. You must keep reminding yourself of that.”

I watch as the other mothers flood through the school gates, many clad in gym gear, others dressed to begin a day at the office. I look down at myself. Jeans which need a belt. Trainers. Baggy t-shirt. At least I’ve brushed my hair today. I washed it, so I had to. I’m losing weight after barely eating for two days. Dad keeps trying to force food down me, but I feel constantly sick.

“I don’t see how my problems could get any worse than they are right now.”

“Fiona, if you were to add alcohol to the equation, you’d have all the physical and psychological repercussions of drinking again thrown into the mix. Headache, guilt and regret, to name but a few.”

Obviously, she’s right. I tell her about the situation between my parents and the crushing loneliness I’m feeling. Once upon a time, Rob was my best friend. It was never the bells and whistles sort of romance, but we got on well and had a laugh together. I’ve always got on better with men. This is probably a reflection of the bond I didn’t have with my mother. Somehow, I always feel threatened by other women. Apart from my wonderful grandmother.

In the early years of getting together with Rob, I didn’t feel as though I needed anyone else anyway. I let a lot of my friendships slide. Most of them weren’t particularly deep ones, anyway. Then I failed to nurture the ones I had left. After Jack came along and Rob became more immersed in his work, the bottle became my closest friend again. And my greatest enemy, as my sponsor keeps reminding me.

“I suggest you get along to the next meeting.” Her voice cuts into my miserable reminiscences. “It’s tomorrow evening.”

“I will.” However, I struggle to think beyond the next five minutes. “If my dad is still here to look after my son, I’ll come.”

“Have you got anyone else who can watch him if your dad can’t? I think it’s important that you come. Especially now. Let us look after you.”

“My neighbour might help. I’ll do my best to get there. I do like the thought of being looked after.”

“I’ll keep in touch with you Fiona. Is it alright if I ring you later?”

“That’s fine.” When she rings me, I feel listened to, so I’ll welcome her call. It’s like she really cares about me.

“Is there a time that’s best? When you’re on your own?”

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t care who I talk in front of.” I don’t broadcast it but I’ve made no secret about the issues I’ve faced and overcome. In fact, from where I was, to where I am now, I’m proud of myself. Some people I was knocking about with in my late teens and early twenties are dead or pretty far gone on alcohol now, or worse.

I knew I’d feel better after ringing my sponsor. I always come away feeling a new sense of motivation. Then reality returns to slap me around the face. Rob’s dead. And I probably will be when Mum gets her hands on me.

As I go to slide my phone into my bag, it buzzes. Friend or foe, I think. There’s a new text message, and two earlier ones.