‘Oh, for God… God’s sake. I haven’t been drinking. I… I haven’t touched a drink. Fucking always accu…accusing me of drinking. You nasty bitch.’ He spat the last word with such force that she held the phone away from her.
He continued with his rant. ‘I just wanted to… to see you. But no, you al-always think th-think the worst of me. Accu… accusing me all the time.’
Feeling sick to her stomach at the rising agitation in his voice and his abusive language, Megan took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew from experience that there was no way she’d be able to help him at this point. It would be a fruitless effort, with him directing his anger at her. It was better to distance herself and be thankful that at least he was still alive. He would undoubtedly begin to sober up within the next day or so.
‘I have to go, Jonnie. I’m at work.’
She cut the call with shaking hands. Even though she’d been through similar conversations countless times, the process always affected her emotionally.
‘At least he’s safe at Sid’s,’ she muttered to herself, thankful that he hadn’t been calling from a police station or hospital, as he had on many an occasion. Megan ignored the once again flashing screen of her mobile, turning the handset face down. She knew that if she ignored the calls for long enough, he’d eventually stop calling.
What saddened her about the situation was that it wasn’t directly his fault. Growing up with their alcoholic mother hadn’t been the best precedent to begin with. The difference was that their mother, to an extent, had been a ‘functioning alcoholic’. Whilst she hadn’t provided the same level of care that some of Megan’s friends’ parents displayed, she had managed to hold down a job and take care of the basic needs of her two children, single-handedly.
Having to learn to be highly responsible from a young age, Megan had automatically taken on most of the caring duties for her younger brother. It was she who ensured he was properly washed and fed. And it was she who eventually took over the role of guardian to Jonnie when, as soon as she turned eighteen, their own mother scarpered off to Scotland with her on-and-off boyfriend.
Jonnie had never really stood a chance. He was just thirteen when their mother had left and, despite Megan’s best efforts, the impact had obviously been too great. By the time Jonnie reached twenty, he’d already been in and out of prison for minor offences and began to drink heavily. It was heartbreaking to see her younger brother destroying himself. Especially as he’d been doing so well for the past three months – even securing himself a job at the local builders’ merchant.
Megan sighed as her PC monitor dulled and a screensaver took its place. Maybe, just maybe, once Jonnie sobered up, he’d get back on track and finally seek the help she so frequently and desperately tried to convince him that he needed…
She tapped her mouse and brought the PC back to life. Reluctant as she was, she had to get on with her work.
Kate re-dusted the rolling pin with a handful of plain flour and continued to work on the pastry she was rolling out. It had been an unexpected disappointment to arrive home the previous evening and find the house empty – she’d had hopes of getting to know more about her mystery guest, Marcus. It wasn’t often she come across men so beautiful and especially one who was going to be staying under her own roof!
Instead, she’d found herself greeting Alf a lot earlier than usual, thanks to an out-of-city local meeting he’d attended. Without waiting for her to ask, he’d explained that Marcus had been commissioned to cover a last-minute story for a national newspaper. Given his circumstances he’d jumped at the chance and headed back up North for the overnight stay. For a moment she’d been disconcerted, until Alf had swiftly followed up that he’d be returning to stay with them the next day.
As a consequence, her best-laid plans for an evening in Marcus’s presence instead gave way to a rather sombre affair, especially after Alf had spent most of it recounting the details of his client meeting. Part of her had wanted to tell him that she didn’t give a hoot about professional indemnity insurance aimed specifically at engineers and architects, and neither did she care that the chief executive was a ‘smarmy git’. However, she’d feigned considerable interest and calmly nodded in all the right places. Only when Alf finally seemed satisfied that he’d exhausted the topic, did Kate dare to bring up the subject that had been niggling at her.
Still raw from the proposal disappointment and without having the distraction of Marcus, she’d felt bold enough to raise the matter of the house being in need of redecoration. On some inner level, the uncomfortable association with the house’s neglected appearance reflecting their relationship was eating away at her. And she had wanted to remedy the situation, especially as she still hadn’t found the courage to broach the real reason for their issues…
Unfortunately, raising the subject of the house had done nothing but leave her feeling dejected. She’d immediately deduced from Alf’s quick glance around the room and nonplussed attitude to her suggestion, that he didn’t feel it absolutely necessary. Although she could have easily argued her case – and she was in no doubt that he’d have told her to go ahead if it was what she really wanted – his lack of initial enthusiasm disappointed her. She felt it was an omen of things to come.
A sharp tap on the front door caught her attention, breaking her thoughts. Sam, who had been sitting quietly by Kate’s feet, ran cautiously to the safety of his corner box as she dusted off her floured hands on a nearby tea towel. Walking into the hallway, she could vaguely make out the distorted sight of a man leaning against the glass. Her spirits lifted a little. She had high hopes for the evening ahead and was welcoming the much-needed presence of Marcus to distract her from her current relationship situation. The guilty part of her conscience did wonder why Marcus was striking such a chord within her – she’d never felt such felt such a bubble of excitement at the idea of spending time with a man who wasn’t Alf. Yet she pushed the self-reproach aside and told herself it was simply a diversion from her own mounting concerns, especially the fundamental issue of her problems with Alf.
Ignoring the thudding in her chest and her quickened breathing, she hastily opened the door.
The sight that greeted her wasn’t what she was expecting…
‘Jonnie…?’ Kate once again impatiently shook the shoulder of the slumping bulk of Megan’s brother on her doorstep. ‘Jonnie, get up.’ She heard the wariness in her own voice and tried to keep calm, despite her escalating sense of dread. Jonnie was refusing to stir and, aside from a gentle snort that assured her he was still breathing, he remained a dead weight half-propped against the doorframe. ‘Can you hear me? Please get up,’ she urged, knowing it was a fruitless request.
Upon opening the door and looking forward to greeting Marcus, she’d been dumbfounded to see a dishevelled and foul-smelling Jonnie instead. He’d barely managed to stay standing long enough to utter her name, before collapsing into a heap at her feet.
Panic suddenly shot to her core and Kate felt momentarily at a loss as to what to do. Thankfully, Alf wasn’t due home for another hour – she couldn’t begin to imagine his reaction at finding a drunken, passed-out Jonnie on their doorstep. It didn’t bear thinking about. Alf had never attempted to be compassionate or understanding of the situation with Megan’s brother, despite Kate’s gentle persuasion and subtle hints about the childhood he’d endured. It was no use, often falling on deaf ears. Part of her wondered if Alf’s refusal and inability to understand could be attributed to the fact that he’d had a relatively straightforward childhood. How does anyone know about tragedy and loss unless they themselves have experienced it first-hand?
The stories of Jonnie’s alcoholic behaviour had only been told as references to Megan’s predicament; never had they directly involved Kate herself – until now. She was