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Authors: Carole Matthews
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greasy thud, while the vegetable dish up-ended and a selection of carrot batons, petit pois, Brussels sprouts and roasted parsnips landed squarely in Addison’s lap. Her boyfriend jumped up and did a quick tribal dance as the steam threatened to burn through to his skin. Her father, perhaps harking back to his cricketing days, caught the potatoes on the fly.
They all stood and looked at the disarray. Jenkinson, sensibly, didn’t come back to see what all the noise was about. Richard, Autumn noted, was shaking violently.
Her parents, it seemed, had gone into a state of catatonic shock. ‘Addison,’ she said crisply, ‘I’m going to take Richard upstairs. Can I leave you to start on this mess?’ Her boyfriend nodded to her and she gave him a thankful glance as he immediately set about the task of retrieving root vegetables from the floor.
‘Perhaps the champagne didn’t agree with his jet lag,’ her mother suggested optimistically.
‘Yes, yes,’ Richard muttered. ‘That must be it.’
Jet lag my arse, Autumn thought. She steered Rich up the stairs and into the room that had been his since childhood. Without protest, she took him over to the bed where he lay down on the dated counterpane and rolled himself into a ball as if experiencing severe stomach cramps.
She stroked his damp forehead. ‘Are you all right?’
‘You know, I don’t feel all that well, sis.’ He retched dryly.
‘What have you been taking this time, Rich?’
‘A bit of crack,’ he confessed meekly. ‘Nothing much.’
So much for rehab. It seemed that his time away had only served to get him into harder drugs. ‘Oh, Richard.’ She sank down on the bed and lay next to him.
‘I don’t know how it happened.’ He sounded genuinely confused. ‘I was
never
addicted to cocaine,’ he said, with a bravado that didn’t come through in his voice. ‘A few grammes, that was all. Maybe a bit more. Then suddenly it wasn’t enough. It didn’t give me that same feeling.’ He sounded frightened for the first time.
‘How long can you go on like this, baby brother?’
‘I’ve got it under control,’ he insisted, his teeth chattering. ‘I
will
get it under control. Can you just help me to the bathroom?’
Autumn helped to haul him to his feet. He felt light, insubstantial, weak. He staggered like an old man to the en-suite bathroom. She stood by him and bathed his forehead with a cool, damp cloth while he emptied the contentsof his stomach into the lavatory. That’s what you get, Autumn thought bleakly, when you have a Christmas that’s just
too
merry.
Their Christmas lunch ordeal had eventually ended, with very little food actually having been eaten and her parents fawning over Addison and begging him to come back another time. Autumn felt she would be very lucky ever to get her boyfriend over their doorstep again.
Now he was driving them back to Autumn’s apartment. As he pulled away from the front door and into the light holiday traffic, without turning towards her, Addison said, ‘So – how long has your brother been a drug addict?’
Autumn leaned her head back against the seat. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘I guess if you’re in the record industry, you can spot a good singer a mile away.’ Addison shrugged. ‘I’m in the drugs business.’
They stopped at traffic-lights and Addison took her hand. ‘Do your parents know how bad it is?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I pretend that I don’t.’
‘You know that you’re facilitating his behaviour?’
‘I try to protect him,’ she protested. ‘That’s all.’
‘And in doing so you cover up for him, provide excuses for him, and that gives him the opportunity not to face up to what he is.’
The lights changed and still they sat there. Thankfully,being Christmas Day, there was no one behind them impatiently tooting their horn.
‘How do I help him?’
‘Perhaps you can’t, Autumn.’
‘Well,
They all stood and looked at the disarray. Jenkinson, sensibly, didn’t come back to see what all the noise was about. Richard, Autumn noted, was shaking violently.
Her parents, it seemed, had gone into a state of catatonic shock. ‘Addison,’ she said crisply, ‘I’m going to take Richard upstairs. Can I leave you to start on this mess?’ Her boyfriend nodded to her and she gave him a thankful glance as he immediately set about the task of retrieving root vegetables from the floor.
‘Perhaps the champagne didn’t agree with his jet lag,’ her mother suggested optimistically.
‘Yes, yes,’ Richard muttered. ‘That must be it.’
Jet lag my arse, Autumn thought. She steered Rich up the stairs and into the room that had been his since childhood. Without protest, she took him over to the bed where he lay down on the dated counterpane and rolled himself into a ball as if experiencing severe stomach cramps.
She stroked his damp forehead. ‘Are you all right?’
‘You know, I don’t feel all that well, sis.’ He retched dryly.
‘What have you been taking this time, Rich?’
‘A bit of crack,’ he confessed meekly. ‘Nothing much.’
So much for rehab. It seemed that his time away had only served to get him into harder drugs. ‘Oh, Richard.’ She sank down on the bed and lay next to him.
‘I don’t know how it happened.’ He sounded genuinely confused. ‘I was
never
addicted to cocaine,’ he said, with a bravado that didn’t come through in his voice. ‘A few grammes, that was all. Maybe a bit more. Then suddenly it wasn’t enough. It didn’t give me that same feeling.’ He sounded frightened for the first time.
‘How long can you go on like this, baby brother?’
‘I’ve got it under control,’ he insisted, his teeth chattering. ‘I
will
get it under control. Can you just help me to the bathroom?’
Autumn helped to haul him to his feet. He felt light, insubstantial, weak. He staggered like an old man to the en-suite bathroom. She stood by him and bathed his forehead with a cool, damp cloth while he emptied the contentsof his stomach into the lavatory. That’s what you get, Autumn thought bleakly, when you have a Christmas that’s just
too
merry.
Their Christmas lunch ordeal had eventually ended, with very little food actually having been eaten and her parents fawning over Addison and begging him to come back another time. Autumn felt she would be very lucky ever to get her boyfriend over their doorstep again.
Now he was driving them back to Autumn’s apartment. As he pulled away from the front door and into the light holiday traffic, without turning towards her, Addison said, ‘So – how long has your brother been a drug addict?’
Autumn leaned her head back against the seat. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘I guess if you’re in the record industry, you can spot a good singer a mile away.’ Addison shrugged. ‘I’m in the drugs business.’
They stopped at traffic-lights and Addison took her hand. ‘Do your parents know how bad it is?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I pretend that I don’t.’
‘You know that you’re facilitating his behaviour?’
‘I try to protect him,’ she protested. ‘That’s all.’
‘And in doing so you cover up for him, provide excuses for him, and that gives him the opportunity not to face up to what he is.’
The lights changed and still they sat there. Thankfully,being Christmas Day, there was no one behind them impatiently tooting their horn.
‘How do I help him?’
‘Perhaps you can’t, Autumn.’
‘Well,
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