The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,138

great,’ I said as I polished off the blueberry pancakes, which had been smothered in maple syrup. ‘Goodness, I’m having a food baby!’ I added as I cradled my belly in my hands.

‘Goodness’ was my new go-to word. Ma and my sisters had always told me I had a ‘potty mouth’, and what with Miles and his notable shudder every time I took his precious Lord’s name in vain, as well as Mariam, I’d decided it was time to clean that up too. The occasional ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ came out automatically, but I felt proud that even the Queen of England would consider having me as a guest if I carried on like this. Next thing, I thought wryly, I’d be buying myself a Bible and attending church.

‘Thank you.’ Mariam started to clear up the dishes. ‘One day I’ll cook you a proper Iranian feast,’ she said as my cell rang.

My heart gave a jolt as I saw it was Miles.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi, Electra. Good news: Ida just called to say Vanessa’s care extension has been granted and they’ve managed to get her into the centre Dr Cole recommended. It’s on Long Island, about thirty minutes from JFK. I’m going to make the travel arrangements right now and I hope to get on a flight back either later tonight or tomorrow morning.’

‘Fantastic! That’s such good news!’

‘Yeah, it is. I called a friend who I work with at the drop-in centre and she rates this place. It’s a proper rehab unit, which means medium- to long-term residency, i.e. she won’t be kicked out after a couple weeks. Anyway, more when I see you.’

‘Great. Why don’t I come collect you from JFK? Give me a chance to see Vanessa?’

And you, I thought.

‘If you have time, then that would be great.’

‘I do. Listen, I’ve got to leave for my AA meeting, but call Mariam when you know the flight details, okay?’

‘Sure. See you soon, Electra. Bye now.’

‘Miles will be calling you,’ I said to Mariam as I headed for the door.

‘Okay, and by the way, your grandmother called again this morning. Your diary’s clear for the weekend, so—’

‘I’ll let you know later, okay?’

‘Sure. See you shortly.’

On my way downtown to the meeting, I pondered why, even though Stella had called a number of times on my cell (which I hadn’t picked up), and on Mariam’s (which she had), I felt reluctant to see her. As I climbed out of the sedan – limos were just too noticeable and I also wanted to use my finances a bit more constructively these days – I concluded that I just didn’t know the answer.

The AA meeting was held in a church hall near the Flatiron Building, at the intersection between Broadway and Fifth Avenue. I loved it because it was at a crossroads; a metaphoric melting pot of humanity. No one cared where anyone else was from, because we all had the same diagnosis: we were all on the addict spectrum somewhere.

The place smelt of sweat and dogs, with the slightest hint of alcohol, probably from years of holding meetings where the drunks came in off the street to say they’d fallen off the wagon. It was a well-attended meeting with about two dozen people already there, so I sat down on a chair at the back of the hall.

We all stood and said the serenity prayer and then the meeting leader asked if anyone was new to the group.

I watched someone in the front row adjust his baseball cap and stand up. He looked very familiar . . .

‘Hi. My name’s Tommy and I’m an alcoholic.’

We all clapped for him automatically.

‘Welcome, Tommy. And is there anything you’d like to say to the group?’ the leader asked, as my brain finally got into gear and I drew in a deep breath.

‘Yeah, I’d like to say that I didn’t think I needed these meetings anymore, so I stopped coming. Then two days ago, I took a drink.’

Tommy paused, then cleared his throat as we waited (me, with bated breath) for him to continue.

‘I’ve met a girl, see, and . . . I think I love her, but we can’t ever be together. She’d been away for a while and I really missed her . . . And I need you guys . . . this . . . to help me through.’

We all clapped again, but he didn’t sit down, so there was obviously more.

‘Some of you here might remember that when I came back from Afghanistan, I found