The Friends We Keep(44)

Maggie had never considered herself a jealous woman. Nor a particularly possessive one. She didn’t mind that Ben went out with the lads after work, and didn’t even mind when he got home late. He was moving up within the ranks of his company, and even though she was still working, they had been talking about starting a family in the foreseeable future. Ben’s salary was reaching a point where her working was not a necessity, hence they were looking to move to the country.

But Ben’s drinking was becoming a problem. And it was not just the drinking; there was a part of his life that felt secretive. This nightclub, for example. When did he go to a nightclub, and what did he do while he was there?

They had started arguing about his drinking, even though Maggie couldn’t figure out why it bothered her so much. It wasn’t as if he became unpleasant, angry, or violent. If anything, he was looser, more affectionate, loving. She should’ve been thrilled when he put his arms around her, but instead, she was flooded with white-hot fury.

She had started watching him to see how much he drank, trying to keep her voice level as she told him perhaps he ought to slow down. She had started checking the vodka bottle in the freezer, not going as far as to mark it to see how much he drank each day, but coming close. She didn’t need a marker to know.

How ironic, she found herself thinking, that for so many years she thought she needed looking after, she deserved to be looked after, in just the way her father looked after her mother, and yet here she was, the one responsible for looking after Ben, for this was how she saw it: it was her responsibility to stop him from drinking, her responsibility to make him sober.

She watched Ben leave the house, locking up and making his way down the street to the car. However much he drank, he never seemed particularly hungover. He got in the car, his smile fading as he saw the look on Maggie’s face.

“When were you at Ministry of Sound?” She tried to keep her voice neutral, not wanting to fight all the way to Somerset.

Ben sighed. “It was a late night last night. I didn’t want to go but the boys insisted. I didn’t stay long. I don’t even like that bloody house music. I had one drink, then I came home.”

“So what time were you home?”

Ben paused, and Maggie knew it was because he was debating whether or not this was a trick question. Was she awake and did she hear him come in? Was this something else that would lead to a big row?

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Was that because you were drunk, by any chance?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“I had a few, yeah. It was the boys. I can’t not drink. I wasn’t drunk though.”

“You always say that, and I know that’s not true. When you’re drunk you snore so loudly, you almost bring the house down.”

“Exaggerate much?”

“Don’t take the piss out of me. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about your drinking. You’re going out with the boys more and more, or to work events that end later and later, and every time you get home drunk.”

Ben gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road as he headed toward the motorway. “Most of the time you’re already asleep when I get home, so how would you know?”

“Because even when you’re home you’re drinking. Do you not think I don’t realize how much vodka you’re going through?”

“God, Maggie. What are you? My mother?”

“No. That’s the point. I don’t want to be your mother, but that’s exactly what I feel like. You’re not being responsible. We’re talking about having children, but how can we have a family when you’re so irresponsible?”

Ben shook his head. “I’ve just got another promotion at work, and I am doing a very good job of supporting us. I know you work, too, but let’s face it, your money is a nice addition rather than being necessary. Please don’t accuse me of not being a good provider, because that’s not true.”

“You’re twisting my words. I’m not accusing you of that. I’m saying that I’m worried about your drinking.”

“What are you saying exactly? That I’m an alcoholic or something?”

Maggie took a deep breath. “I didn’t say that. You said that. Do you think you’re an alcoholic?”

“Of course I’m not a bloody alcoholic. Have you seen me miss a single day of work? Am I ever hungover? And the last time I was on antibiotics, I didn’t drink for ten days and it was easy. I didn’t even think about it. Do you think an alcoholic would be able to do that?” Ben’s voice was rising in irritation now, and Maggie instantly backed down, not wanting to ruin this day, and thinking about what he had just said. He had a point. He was not hungover, and surely alcoholics can’t just stop drinking because of medication. Perhaps she was overreacting. Perhaps she was making too big a deal of it.

“I’m sorry,” she said eventually. “You have a point. I just . . . worry about your health.”

“I’m in the prime of health.” His voice softened, both of them wanting to redress the balance. “Look!” He brandished his right arm, flexing his muscles as Maggie finally smiled. “Would an alcoholic be this fit?”

“Okay, okay.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s enjoy the day.” She leaned her head back and looked out the window as they drove. The Spider was supposed to be a shared car, one that was only really used on the weekends, or in the evenings when they went out for dinner. Maggie rarely used it herself. She hated stick shift, and even though she recognized it was cool, she would have preferred something low-key. Not that either of them drove often. Normally, they both walked to the tube station and took the tube to work. They only ever used the car when they went somewhere together.