The whole day it worried at them. In their tenuous state everything felt like it might be the end or the beginning of some new level of dreadful life they didn’t think they could stoop to. They tried to shake it. They went to the lunchtime meeting, but hated it. The feeling that they’d fucked up in such a big way they were doomed to drink again separated them from everyone in the room. They felt like they were just visiting. Like it was all just about over. The people who spoke, spoke for too long, the room was hot, and there was too much talk about god. Maybe it was a cult. Maybe they were too young. The old men who had been coming for a long time were misogynist and homophobic. Greta and Peggy could tell by the way they sat and looked at everyone. Everything about it was old-fashioned, the whole thing was hopeless. They were hopeless. They kept living the moment over and over again and being furious that they hadn’t stopped and not punched her. They listened to the radio but, as Greta said, it was one punch and she was pretty sure Tyra had got up. It wouldn’t be on the radio or on the TV.

‘Isn’t there someone we can call?’ Peggy asked again.

Greta shrugged. They had friends in common but then what? Please don’t fuck up our life? Please don’t make us go to jail? We don’t want to go to jail because we’re trying to make a go of being sober? Sorry about your face? No. It just wouldn’t do. It was hopeless. The meeting ended. They said the prayer – the fucking prayer. Why was there so much fucking god? They’d packed a lunch, a slice of white bread with some butter and grated carrot. One of the important things they’d learned in hospital was that a body needs three meals a day. They walked to a patch of grass by the river. Tourists were being punted up it. They knew a guy who worked as a punter. They used to think it was funny but now everything just looked dark. The tourists, the punters. Maybe they could move. The sandwiches tasted dreadful. They didn’t call Diane until eight.

‘Well,’ Diane said. ‘These things happen and then, if we don’t drink, we get a choice about what we do next.’