Page 76 of Not in a Million Years

‘I could have not gone into the pub. I could have not tagged along with Dodgy McDodgyface and his dodgy mates. I could have not rung their dealer. I could’ve flushed the stuff down the bog or even sold it on. I could’ve stopped so, so many times, and I didn’t.’

‘Is that what you’re scared of?’ I asked. ‘That next time, you won’t be able to stop again?’

He nodded wanly. ‘I was doing so well. Almost two years clean. I didn’t even get fucked up to celebrate my anniversary, which I thought was pretty good going. But in hospital, being on morphine, it was like my whole body went, “Well hello! I’ve been missing this.” And I had the perfect excuse, didn’t I? It was pain relief. It was all legit. They said I needed it.’

‘You did need it.’

‘I needed it like a hole in the head. But I have to carry on taking it, otherwise it’s just too sore and I can’t do my physio, and they said that if I don’t, I’ll end up with a permanent limp.’

He gestured down to his lap, and the crutches that were propped up against the arm of the sofa. I reached over and covered his hand with mine.

‘Hey, Andy. Don’t be scared. Remember the first time you went to an NA meeting, how scared you were then?’

‘Properly shitting it.’ He gave a little shudder at the memory.

‘Exactly. But you got through it. You kept saying how scary recovery was, how waking up every day and getting through it clean was huge, but you did it anyway. You’ve got this.’

‘Am I Mummy’s brave soldier?’

I laughed and moved my hand to punch him lightly on the shoulder. ‘You can call me whatever the hell you like. But pick up the phone, ring your sponsor or whatever they’re called and get yourself off to a meeting. Now. This morning. Before you stop having the Fear and tell yourself you don’t need to go.’

‘All right. Only if you bring me my phone, though. I’m aching like crazy.’

It was an unwelcome echo of the old Andy – the Andy who’d said, Just fifty quid, come on, Katie babe. You know I’ll pay it back, or Come on, let’s open another bottle – it’s only midnight. Don’t be so bloody boring, or I promise I’ll stop, I just need you to be here for me.

But now wasn’t the time to remind him of that. I fetched his phone and discreetly looked out of the window while he made his call.

‘I’m in luck,’ he said. ‘Laura’s going to a meeting in town at midday. She’s going to drive me there. I’m meeting her for breakfast first.’

‘Great! Want me to walk with you to wherever you’re meeting her?’

‘No, I’ll get the bus.’

‘Let me walk you to the bus stop, then.’ I knew full well that between Daniel’s house and the bus stop were two pubs – the chichi, gentrified one with the seitan burgers and the dodgy one where Andy had ended up last night. Plus God knew how many street corners. And never mind the dealer’s number, which I felt sure was still saved on his phone.

‘I don’t need a minder, Katie babe. Not just yet, anyway.’

‘I don’t want to be your minder. I just want to make sure you—’

‘You know what they say, Kate?’

‘What?’

‘If you love something, set it free.’

His walls were coming back up. There was nothing to do but let him go and hope that he was meeting who he said he was meeting, going where he said he was going. He was still sufficiently raw and fragile to be on the level with me, I reckoned, and to need the comfort he knew he’d get from people who’d been through the same stuff as him.

He was also raw and fragile enough that it could quite easily go the other way, and the dark paranoia that inevitably accompanied a come-down could send him straight back to the dodgy pub or the dealer.

But that was just a risk I had to take – or let Andy take himself.

I waved him off a few minutes later and went to find Daniel in his workshop.

The sun hadn’t yet reached the windows that lined the room, but the morning light was bright and clear. The hum of machinery had stilled and Daniel wasn’t wearing a mask. He was working with a soft cloth, rubbing what I guessed was some sort of wax into the bevelled curves of a mirror frame. He had headphones in his ears and was singing along, off-key, to what I recognised as The Smiths.

When he saw me, he stopped, pulled out the headphones and set down the cloth.

‘Don’t mind me,’ I said. ‘I was enjoying the recital.’

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