Sometimes they wished they were finishing soon. Some days when the work was boring, or things were frightening them. Maybe there was a bill they weren’t sure they could pay – those times they would want so badly to go with the old friend. Surely they could have a drink today and come back tomorrow? Surely, just to take the pressure off? The pressure.

‘We’re working all day.’

It was a habit. So much of it was about habits. Habits had got them in trouble and habits would get them out.

‘We’re working late. Then we’ve got a thing.’ But we want to, every part of them would scream, hoping maybe the friend could read it, would insist, would save them from the hell of being so much in the real world and the here and now. Pick them up. Tell them they were being stupid, that things would be fine, that it was just a drink.

But then the old friend would shrug too, and say, ‘Well, you know where I am.’

And they did. They knew where it all was. Knew how long it would take to get there and how they would get there and what bus to take and what to say when they got there.

When they talked to other sober people about it, the people said how when things like this happened they were always happy they hadn’t said yes. But Peggy and Greta hadn’t felt that yet. Every now and then they would feel grateful – and they said it a lot in meetings, because it was part of what you said. ‘I’m really grateful to be sober.’ But they were pretty sure they weren’t. It was more of a stick situation – no carrot, just a massive stick. Those last few months of drinking had been terrifying, traumatising. They still had nightmares. Woke up gasping. There was some kind of deep terror of going back to that. Sometimes the terror of what had happened was so big it seemed insurmountable. Sometimes they thought a drink was the only way to get rid of it but drinking had stopped working. Completely. They didn’t know much, but they knew there was no comfort left in alcohol. So they would say, ‘Yeah, see you later. Have a nice day.’ And watch their old friend walk out of the shop and into the sunshine.

They never went too near the edge. Never thought too hard. After the old friend left, Dorrit would come and tell them they could go for lunch and they’d look out the door again and think maybe they wouldn’t come back from lunch but that would mean the next people wouldn’t get their lunch.