BooksBarbecue
Back Again, Rachel
Chapters (98)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. Acknowledgements

His breathing was still audible when I hung up.

20

Luke had to be put out of my head; big work stuff was going down today. I printed out all the information I needed and went to the morning meeting. But sitting at the table, a wave of exhaustion hit. I could have fallen asleep there and then.

Luckily, Murdo stuck his head into the room and crooked a finger: Trassa’s son Ronan had arrived. The adrenaline from this would keep me going.

‘He’s in the drawing room,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in group.’

I found a nervous-looking man in his early forties, staring at an untouched cup of tea. An equally untouched plate of ‘visitors’’ biscuits were on the table before him.

‘Ronan?’ I shook his hand. ‘I’m Rachel. Thank you for coming.’

He half stood and, in a voice filled with anguish, asked, ‘What do I have to do?’

My heart hurt for him. The people who care about addicts have it very hard. So much of their time they’re plagued by suspicion, fear, thwarted hope, frustration, anger, and then, when they’ve finally convinced their loved one to get help, they usually feel terrible guilt.

‘Just be honest,’ I said. ‘I’ll guide you.’

‘Do you think she’ll…lose the head at me?’ God love him, he was terrified.

‘She might. She needs to protect her addiction and one way of doing that is to blame other people.’ We’d already been through this on the phone. ‘She might cry. She’ll probably try to make you feel guilty. Or like you’re overreacting.’

‘This is very hard.’

‘You managed to get her in here, you’ve already done the toughest part. Just try to be brave a bit longer.’

He nodded, white with dread.

As soon as I was certain that everyone was safely in group, I took Ronan into the corridor, opened the door of the Abbot’s Quarter, ushered him in and guided him to the ‘visitors’’ chair Waldemar had parked there earlier, draped with a piece of A4 paper saying ‘Don’t Sit Here’.

Murdo was already in the room—he always provided backup when we had ‘visitors’.

You could have heard a pin drop. Ella didn’t understand what was going on, her head was flipping from person to person, seeking answers. The rest of them, though, couldn’t help but be a little buzzed. These confrontations were often edge-of-your-seat stuff so long as you weren’t the person in the spotlight.

‘Trassa,’ I said. ‘Would you like to say hello to your son?’

Her mouth worked but no words emerged. Eventually she managed, ‘Who’s minding down home while you’re up here?’

‘Keith.’

‘He knows nothing about cattle.’

‘It’s one day, Mammy.’

‘Tell that to the poor cows who won’t get milked.’

Already I was losing Ronan. He was wilting before my eyes.