I Know Your Secret - Ruth Heald Page 0,36

cupboard. Had I gone up to look for it and then brought it downstairs to sleep with? That makes no sense.

Jumbled memories flash through my mind. Being helped into a taxi. Struggling to focus as the town rolled by outside the window. Feeling overwhelmingly tired. Stumbling into the hallway, the cold wall against my palm as I fought the zip of my ankle boots. Falling over as I forced them off. The kitchen tap spraying me when I turned it too far. Sitting on the kitchen floor and swallowing a whole glass of water in two gulps.

I ease myself off the sofa. My foot hits something hard, which rolls noisily over the wooden floor. I stare down in disbelief. An empty bottle of vodka. It’s the one from the kitchen cupboard. Richard bought it from duty-free on our way back from a weekend in Spain years ago. It had been opened at the time and then quickly cast aside. I don’t normally drink spirits, they make my throat burn. But there’s a single tumbler beside me on the coffee table, half an inch of clear liquid in the bottom. Water? Or vodka? I lift it to my face, sniff it and then retch. Definitely vodka. I can’t have drunk it all, can I? What happened?

With each tentative step I take across the living room, my head pounds. I drag myself up to bed to try and get more sleep, but I can’t get comfortable, turning over the pillow again and again to find a bit that doesn’t feel quite so lumpy. I think of Danielle. She can’t possibly be a client now. I’ve completely messed up, overstepped a boundary by having a drink with her. I flush with embarrassment as I imagine what I might have said to her when I was drunk. I feel the nausea rise within me, and I try to stay completely still, praying I won’t be sick.

I’ll have to message her, tell her I can no longer be her therapist. I search around on my bedroom table for my phone, but realise it must be in my bag. I have no idea where I might have put it when I came in. I give up and fall into a fitful sleep.

I’m woken by the sound of banging on the door. Loud, insistent rapping. I roll over and pull the pillow over my head, wondering if I can ignore it.

‘Beth! Beth!’

Oh, god. It’s Richard. He must have brought Charlie back.

I grab a hairbrush, drag it through my hair and then run downstairs. Luckily I’m still dressed from yesterday.

I open the door, blinking back the pounding sunlight.

‘Hi Beth,’ Richard says, strolling through the door.

‘Charlie!’ I say, and hold my arms out to my son. ‘How was it? Did you have a great time?’ It takes every ounce of my energy to smile brightly.

Charlie hugs me reluctantly. ‘You smell, Mum.’

I glance up at Richard and smile apologetically. He’s staring back at me. ‘Where were you last night?’ he asks.

‘Oh, umm… out… with a friend.’

‘We tried to call you. Charlie was upset. He wanted to come home.’

‘Oh, Charlie.’ I get down to his level and ruffle his hair. ‘I missed you too. Are you alright?’

He shrugs away from me, going to switch on the small TV in the kitchen. I’m too exhausted to tell him not to.

‘He’s been pretty grumpy. I think he was worried when we couldn’t get hold of you. In the end I decided to bring him back here. I thought he’d be happier with you. But there was no answer when I knocked.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I should have checked my phone. I was out.’

Richard looks down at the floor. ‘Have you met someone new then?’

‘No. I was just with a friend.’

‘I suppose it’s none of my business anyway.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

Suddenly my vision starts to blur. ‘Beth, are you alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ I insist. But I stumble, reaching for the wall to steady myself.

Richard takes my arm and leads me into the living room.

He stops in the doorway.

I see what he sees.

The sofa that I’ve so clearly slept on. The empty bottle of vodka on the floor.

Twenty-Two

Danielle

On Sunday, I wake up to an empty house. I felt wrung out last night, emotionally drained, but this morning I feel surprisingly well. I have a new lease of life. I thought I’d miss Peter’s warm body beside me in bed and have trouble sleeping. But I didn’t. The house felt peaceful without him.

It’s still early and I can’t