a missed call from her on my phone when I came round, then the police turned up… The next time I saw her… she was cold and broken on the slab in the morgue.’
Carl wiped his eyes. Barbara handed him the box of tissues that until now he’d never needed. He breathed deeply, letting the tears come.
‘She didn’t die because I was drunk. She was going out on a girls’ night anyway and the driver would have ploughed into the crowd whether I had been an arsehole or not. But she’d died hating me, something I don’t think I can forgive myself for.’ He shook his head to disperse the visceral images and leaned against the back of the chair and blew his nose.
‘Carl, saying it out loud is the first step to forgiving yourself.’
‘I don’t think I can. I made her feel it. I behaved appallingly. This is my hair shirt now. I deserve it.’
Barbara raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Do you think you can’t forgive yourself because if you do it’s letting a part of Janey go for ever?’
Carl set his head on one side. Barbara had an uncanny way of pointing things out that made perfect sense. Days could now pass without him fondly thinking of Janey, and then when he realised he hadn’t kept her in his thoughts, he would feel a sharp slap of guilt. Other times a song on the radio or a film on TV would release latent memories and he would have to let them pass through him until he had recovered some kind of equilibrium. Janey would always be there, (for better or worse, in sickness and in health), but he felt like time was eroding her presence in his life. And if he achieved his dream of being a dad, it would be another bridge he’d have to cross, taking him further away from her. Maybe his hair shirt was a way of keeping her close…
‘Let’s just play devil’s advocate,’ Barbara proposed. ‘What if Janey had left a message instead of ringing off, saying she was sorry, she didn’t hate you. How would that make you feel?’
Carl blinked. He’d tortured himself for the last few years that she’d rung off because she was going to tell him she was leaving. He’d not thought of an alternative ending.
‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘Do you think you could imagine feeling differently? If this were the case?’
‘Maybe, yeah. I wouldn’t feel so guilty. I mean, it wouldn’t bring Janey back, but maybe it would help with everything… else.’
The reason he’d never mentioned anything before in AA was because not forgiving himself would be considered martyrdom. Finally completing AA’s Twelve Step Program had been a revelation for him. He had been on and off the wagon for five years since Janey had died. He would like to say that his addiction was all behind him now, but no one could ever put their drinking past truly behind them because that would be denying a main part of themselves. Carl’s past was always going to be with him, something he had realised once he’d reached Steps Four and Five and had to make amends to people he had hurt, including himself with regards to his guilt.
Carl religiously attended AA to stay present, support others and to make sure he remained vigilant with his thoughts and actions. Without that, it could lead you down the road to relapse and that was one path Carl was determined not to return to. He knew he really needed to forgive himself about their last night together, but even now, it felt like a gargantuan task.
‘The thing is, you’ll never know what Janey would have said, so why not imagine it was that? It might help you work towards finally letting it all go.’
He nodded slowly as Barbara’s words sunk in.
9
Louise
Louise had her hands clamped over her ears, trying to block out the screaming and subsequent crashes. She was singing ‘Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off’, to the sound of the Black Adder theme tune in her head. She’d sent Ted to his room for hitting his sister at the dinner table.
Since the funeral, Ted had reverted to toddlerhood, or had leapfrogged into being a teenager; she couldn’t quite decide which. The pit that now permanently hollowed out her chest seemed to double in size whenever one of these episodes occurred, threatening to pull her in, compelling her to scream alongside Ted like cellmates in bedlam. She could feel rage