‘Look. I work with this stuff. On a daily basis I see clients struggling with grief and addiction and trauma. I know about these things, probably more than anyone else you’ll ever meet. And I know you. I know your personal strengths and weaknesses and in the past year I have seen, firsthand, your incredible strength and ability to pick yourself back up. You should be proud of yourself and feel free to celebrate.’

‘By breaking my sobriety? Kristina, I’m sorry but this has really thrown me.’

‘Obviously no pressure. It was just a suggestion. I think it is also important to take steps back to normality when it comes to sobriety. I don’t believe that complete abstention is necessary forever; true healing can only come when you find balance.’

‘But the rules…’

‘You’re right, Elisabeth. Maybe this was preemptive of me. Just, I’ve had a tough week at work. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you. I just wanted us to have some fun. Like in the old days. You know, a couple of girlfriends on the sofa, watching Sex and the City reruns, eating crazy amounts of cheese and enjoying a couple of glasses of nice red wine.’

Elisabeth feels a warm, cozy feeling spread out in the pit of her stomach at the description – she knows that is how they could have been, in another life. She looks at Kristina, noticing the way she emanates calm and trustworthiness, as always. Maybe she’s right. If someone as knowledgeable and experienced as Kristina says that balance is the goal and that occasionally allowing yourself a little bit of fun is necessary, then why shouldn’t she?

No, she thinks, and realizes that this thought came from deep within her, as though spoken by her very core self.

‘No,’ she says, her voice low and trembling. ‘No. Thank you, but I’m not ready for that. Let’s do all that, but I’ll stick to iced tea.’ In the past, whenever Elisabeth has come to stay at Kristina and Eirik’s, Kristina has gone out of her way to prepare delicious non-alcoholic alternatives for her. Home-brewed iced Kusmi tea with fresh blackberries and mint leaves, or decaf espresso tonics with juicy, thick wedges of lime.

‘I don’t have any, I’m afraid,’ says Kristina, and retracts the offered wine, pouring it into her own glass, filling it all the way to the brim. She takes a sip from it and laughs. ‘Why don’t you take this through to the dining room and I’ll see if I can rustle up something yummy.’ Kristina hands her the tray and takes another big gulp of the wine.