The room was tidy enough, no bottles or glasses half drunk.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘about yesterday, your office.’
‘You remember, do you?’
He stopped, disconcerted, but ignored her question. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘You’ve no way of knowing that.’
‘You have my word,’ he said, palm open, begging her to believe him.
‘Worth precisely nothing,’ she said.
He coloured. ‘If you came here to insult me-’
‘I came here to talk some sense into you. Your drinking is out of control, you are risking your job, your livelihood, never mind your health.’
‘That’s bullshit,’ he said, ‘it’s just been a rough patch.’
‘Hasn’t anybody said anything at work?’
‘I’ve a week’s leave.’
‘So what – this is your holiday? The lost weekend writ large? The bender of a lifetime? You need help.’
There was a pause. Dave stared at her, jaw working, temper in his eyes, then his expression softened. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ve made a mess of things – you, Sammy, Emma, the little one. I know I’ve let everybody down.’ He took a breath. ‘It was a mistake, Gill, leaving you. But I think if you and Sammy, if we could just try again-’
Aw fuck no. ‘Stop there,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to waste my breath explaining to you all the many, many reasons why that is not going to happen. But it is never going to happen. It is over. Dead.’ How many times?
His mouth tightened. ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’
‘I’m here because whatever else you are, you are still Sammy’s dad and I don’t want you to chuck that away.’
‘I’m not chucking anything away.’
‘Dave, he doesn’t want to see you. You get pissed and emotional and it freaks him out.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about-’
‘He told me.’ She fought to keep her voice level. ‘You have a problem, accept it, and deal with it. You won’t see him until you do.’
‘You’re giving me a fucking ultimatum!’ He stood up, walked to the bay window, turned back to face her. ‘I can stop, I can cut down. You’re blowing it out of all proportion.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘How long before you fuck up at work and have that meeting with HR? How long before your mother kicks you out and you end up sleeping in some B &B?’
‘That’s never going to happen, I won’t let it happen,’ he insisted.
‘You won’t be able to stop it, not unless you stop drinking. This murder I’m working, that guy had a business, family, the works. He lost everything. He was living on the streets-’
‘That’s not me,’ he said.
‘Don’t be an idiot, Dave. You’re not that stupid. You’ve seen it happen, Willie Deason, Patrick Barker. Or what about Julia Dalloway?’ Officers they’d both known, two of them dead from drink-related illnesses, the third a recovering alcoholic, a dry drunk back on the job. ‘There’s a million excuses,’ she said, ‘boozy lunches, a snifter at sundown, something in the morning coffee, something to celebrate, to commiserate, a good day, tough day, take the edge off. I like a drink as much as the next person but you are drinking way too much. You’re off your face. Every day. Every time I see you.’