Heather was definitely too drunk to drive. But thankfully she wasn’t so drunk she thought calling Stephen was a good idea. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I thought maybe we could hang out for a bit longer. Maybe open another bottle?’
‘Of course,’ Rachel said, ever the amenable host.
It seemed like such a good idea at the time. But, as it turned out, it definitely wasn’t.
14
TULLY
Tully woke at 3 am with a dry mouth, a thumping headache and all of the anxiety in the world. This was what happened when you got drunk in your thirties. She had memories – distant memories – of being drunk in her twenties, nights when she’d collapse happily into bed at the end of the night （often with a nice-looking boy）， and when she finally got to sleep she’d drift into a slumber so deep she wouldn’t wake until noon the next day.
Today, when she woke for the second time, it was 6:21 am and Locky was sitting astride her stomach. ‘Daddy says you’re feeling sick,’ he said unworriedly.
‘I’m sure you sitting on her stomach doesn’t help, mate,’ Sonny said, lifting Locky off her.
Tully rubbed her eyes and glanced around. ‘Where’s Miles?’
‘Asleep,’ Sonny said. ‘In his bed.’
‘His big-boy bed?’
‘Yep. Been in it since seven last night.’
Tully couldn’t believe it. ‘Tell me the truth: did you drug him? Lace his bottle with alcohol?’
‘You were the only one laced with alcohol last night,’ Sonny said, smiling. It was strange, seeing him smile at her. Tully started to wonder if she was still drunk and imagining it. Then he said, ‘It was nice to see you so relaxed last night. I haven’t seen you like that in ages.’
‘Are you saying you like me drinking?’
‘I like you letting your hair down,’ he corrected, then he took Locky’s hand. ‘Come on. Let’s let Mummy sleep.’
‘Wait, I can go back to sleep?’ She gazed at him with an intensity that made her headache a little worse. ‘But . . . I’m a drunken disgrace. You should be reporting me to the police. Taking my children away from me and putting them with a very nice elderly foster family who still have one of those old-fashioned cookie jars filled with homemade biscuits!’
‘I’ll let you off with an official warning this time,’ Sonny said, and disappeared out the door.
Tully sank back into the pillows. She had almost forgotten how great Sonny was. People always reminded her, of course. Sonny’s so great! So good with the children! Such a caring husband! Just an all-around good guy! Lately, when people said it, Tully felt resentful. What about me? she wanted to cry. I’m great! Why is everyone always talking about Sonny? But they were right. Sonny was great. It was just that, when you’d been married a while, you tended to forget these things.
With that thought in her mind, Tully stretched out and fell asleep in a matter of minutes. The next time she woke it was 10 am. Not noon, but a very nice sleep-in for an old goat like her. Her mouth still didn’t taste right, but her headache was gone and she felt more human than she had four hours earlier. Best of all, there was no small child bouncing on her mid-section. She closed her eyes again, planning to doze for a bit longer, when suddenly she remembered her bag, and lurched upright.
It was a rookie error. Last night her bag had been jam-packed with things – a candle, a silk scarf, a single shoe that she’d swiped from a boutique around the corner. And Rachel’s salad servers. She felt particularly bad about taking those. She was going to return them – today, if she could find her bag. But where the heck was it?
She found it half wedged under Sonny’s side of the bed – bulging, but still zipped. Thank God. Usually, Tully stored any goodies she’d acquired in the garage as soon as was reasonably possible. It was, after all, not unusual for Sonny to rifle through her bag – for keys, a ringing phone, a breath mint. How horrible it would have been for that to happen this morning of all times, when Sonny was being so lovely. How would she have explained it? After all, she was far too hungover and pathetic this morning to come up with a lie.
She bundled all the items into her bedside table, making a mental note to move them to the garage when Sonny left the house. In the meantime, she thought a shower might be a good move. She padded across the carpet into their ensuite bathroom, and got the water going nice and hot.
When she emerged several minutes later, Sonny was sitting on the edge of the bathtub.