‘Yes. Yes. And yes.’
‘But you’re educated,’ Trassa told Bronte. ‘You know French words and the names of Greek gods. You’d got free of heroin years earlier so why would you do something so stupid?’
‘Education makes no difference. I forgot I was an addict. No, that’s wrong, I decided to forget.’
‘Why, though?’ Poor Trassa was trying to understand. ‘If your life was good?’
‘But it wasn’t.’ She bit her lip. ‘Rachel was right. When Freya was … when Eden changed Freya’s plans, it felt as if I had no reason to live. I had managed to stay hopeful for a long, long time because I’d expected good things would come to pass.’
‘I don’t get it.’ Lowry was scornful. ‘Okay, you’re upset about your daughter and your horses but you’d kicked your habit. That’s a big deal. Why would you take drugs that would lead you back to smack?’
Bronte gave him a cool stare. ‘Because we addicts’ – she twirled a finger around the room, ending by pointing it at Lowry – ‘at our core, we want an excuse to relapse.’
‘Hold on now,’ Lowry piped up. ‘I’m not addicted to anything –’
‘There were two versions of me.’ Bronte cut across him. ‘The one who wanted to be well and one who wanted to disappear into the drugs again. There will always be two of me. No matter how many clean years I have, the addict in me is always waiting for its chance.’
‘That sounds desperate.’ Trassa was distressed. ‘I want to be able to stop.’
‘You can stop but addiction is never cured,’ Bronte said. ‘It’s just under control.’
‘Jesus, Rachel.’ Chalkie gave me a sly smile. ‘Is Bronte applying for your job?’
But I was in no mood for bants with Chalkie. Once again I was faced with the realization that, like Bronte, I had had other options: I could have taken Carlotta up on her offer of antidepressants that helped with sleep. But I’d known that they weren’t any fun.
Deep in grief and self-loathing, I’d wanted the delicious balm of sleeping tablets.
Next up was Ella, whose body was folded in on itself, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Going for the jugular, I asked, ‘What did you like about being out of it for days on end?’
After a long, tense wait, she said, ‘Everything.’
Lifting her head, she stared me in the eye. ‘Every fucking thing. But mostly not being afraid. I’m always afraid and I’m so tired of it.’
Well, this was a surprise. I hadn’t expected a capitulation quite this soon.
‘Cheers for that, Rachel.’ Ella vibrated with anger and sorrow. ‘You broke me and you’ve ruined my life and I fucking hate you.’
‘Your life isn’t ruined,’ I said. ‘That’s a promise.’
‘Oh, fuck off!’
At lunchtime I switched on my phone, hoping to hear from Quin. There was nothing so I called again. Same as before, it went straight to message. ‘Quin,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry for hurting you. Can we talk? Please? You matter very very much to me …’
A text had arrived from Claire so I rang her.
‘You around tonight?’ she asked. ‘I really need you.’
‘I’m seeing Nola after work, can I ring when I’m done?’
‘Grand. Except we can’t talk in my house for obvious reasons. And we can’t go to my club for obvious reasons. And we can’t meet in public in case I cry. It’ll have to be your place but Kate is to know nothing about … what went on.’
‘Okay.’ With a heavy sigh, I switched off my phone. I’d try Quin again after work. Now it was time for afternoon group, where we got Lowry’s life story.
His opening line was, ‘Everyone I’ve ever loved has abandoned me.’
Chalkie actually chortled. We’d decided to keep Chalkie for another few weeks because he was too angry to be let out into the world.
In Life According to Lowry, everything was always someone else’s fault. He’d shown real talent – ‘rare talent’ according to himself – as a photographer, but his parents wouldn’t pay for the expensive school in New York. ‘So instead of producing actual art, I take cheesy shots of weddings. It’s the main reason I’m depressed.’
‘But who’s stopping you from producing art?’ Trassa asked. ‘Do you have to be in the artist’s trade union or something?’