McCleave, Simon - DI Ruth Hunter 05 - The Berwyn River Killings by McCleave Simon

Author:McCleave, Simon [McCleave, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stamford Ltd
Published: 2020-07-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

It was gone eight and Nick and Amanda were sitting in an AA meeting at the Llancastell Detox Unit. There was an unusually large amount of people there as a nearby rehab centre had brought around ten of their patients to listen. They sat with their counsellor in the back row, as they did about once a month.

Nick looked at their faces. It was clear that some of them had only been in the rehab centre for a day or two as they were still sweating and shaking. There was such a clear contrast between them and those who had been there for a few weeks. They looked fresh-faced, well dressed and wore an expression on their faces that was a mixture of relief and growing happiness. Nick remembered that feeling. He also remembered when he had first come to this meeting about ten years earlier. One of the old-timers had told him in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t a long way between where he was sitting to those in the back row. Nick could recall how angry he had been at the suggestion that he could ever end up in rehab. He was a police officer and therefore a respected member of society. How dare anyone insinuate that he was anything like the chronic alcoholics that sat at the back. At the time, he thought he just had a drink problem. Of course, just as the man had said, within two years Nick had been to the local rehab and the detox centre that was just down the path from the meeting that they were sitting in. Alcoholism could happen to anyone – it didn’t discriminate. And it had taken a host of creative geniuses with it. George Best, Amy Winehouse, Peter Cook, George Michael, Richard Burton – the list went on.

A voice from over by the door broke his train of thought. ‘Hi, my name’s Peter, and I’m an alcoholic.’

‘Hello, Peter,’ said everyone in the room.

Nick knew the voice. Looking over, he saw that Peter the Artist had crept in and was sitting on a table. He didn’t look well but, having seen him twenty-four hours earlier, Nick was amazed that he had got himself to a meeting.

Fair play. Maybe he’s going to take his sobriety seriously now, Nick thought.

‘I have to be honest. I’ve had one of my little slips, yet again. Two days, but it doesn’t really matter how long. And I can’t tell you why, except that I’m an alcoholic. But I’ve got a new sponsor who, for some reason, has said he will help me. He’s in this room. And I’m incredibly grateful to him. And this morning, I had some kind of epiphany. I know that I have no defence against the first drink. If I put alcohol into my body, I will need another drink and I won’t be able to stop until I pass out. So this morning, I looked up to whoever it is that is looking out for me up there, and I said, “I give up.

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