A Family of Strangers by FIONA LOWE

Author:FIONA LOWE
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FIONA LOWE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sunshine bored into Addy’s room with the intensity of lasers. She rolled over, trying to hide from the light. Her head thumped, her mouth was dry and she had no memory of changing into pajamas or hopping into bed. As she pushed herself up to sitting position, pain gripped her wrist. She peered at it, surprised to see a purple bruise blooming on the heel of her hand. How had that happened?

Gingerly, she turned her head and by squinting made out a plastic bucket, two full water bottles and some paracetamol. Had Grant done that?

Something niggled in the depths of the fug that was her mind. No, that wasn’t right. Grant had brought gin and lunch. They’d danced. She was almost certain they’d had sex and then he’d left. What had she done after that?

She ransacked her hazy memories. She heard the music of The Greatest Showman in her head and felt the words slicing through her like blades, but no matter which part of her mind she searched, she couldn’t find a picture of herself singing on a stage. She’d obviously blocked the memory by wiping herself out after the concert.

A barrage of memories suddenly downloaded. Steph’s look of dismay when Addy had answered the door and her snippy refusal of a drink. The choir members dressed in their neat black and white and their questioning faces. Fern’s curled lip. Vera saying “Your mother would be very disappointed,” as if that was a completely new concept.

A wave of guilt hit her. Had she been drunk before the concert and not sung?

She instantly dismissed the thought. She prided herself that she only drank when she was off the clock and free of responsibilities. Her drinking never interfered with work.

It kinda did at Wrest Point when you were late for your presentation.

One time! And I was barely late.

Of course she’d sung at the Choir Crush and then she’d celebrated a difficult performance. But how had she gotten home? Steph had driven her there so it made sense she’d brought her home, although she had a vague memory of Brenda saying “Let’s get you some coffee.”

Whoever it was had put her in her pajamas and tucked her up in bed. Shame prickled under her skin. It was fine to crash with a drinking buddy who was equally out of it, but something about the line-up of water bottles, the blister pack and the vomit bucket told her whoever it was had been sober. They would have seen her at her worst. She cringed at the thought of having to thank them.

Oh God! Embarrassment reinforced her shame—she had no idea who to thank.

Forcing down a rising combination of alcohol and stomach acid that burned the back of her throat, she rummaged around, patting under her pillow and on the nightstand until she found her phone. She scrolled quickly, looking for a message from Steph, Brenda or Marilyn that implied they’d brought her home, but the last text was the one from Steph telling her she was running late.

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