‘That’s not what I mean. He’s terrified of you dying. Of you killing yourself with alcohol.’

‘I’ve quit.’ He said the words but his sheepish expression gave him away.

‘It’s not that easy, though is it, Paul?’ She watched him closely and the intensity of her stare made him look away. ‘People think all you have to do is stop drinking. Simple. But it’s not. It’s a part of you now. A way of life. An escape. It’s a temporary relief from everyday stresses. Why would you want to stop that?’ She paused. Paul was watching her closely but he didn’t respond. ‘I don’t need to tell you how easy it is to convince yourself that you can handle it. That you’re in control of the booze and not the other way around. That you can quit if you want to. But we both know you’d be lying to yourself.’

Paul took a deep breath and put his face in his hands. ‘I don’t know how I got here.’

Maggie heard the emotion in his voice. She reached out and patted his shoulder gently. ‘It’s where you go from here that matters. How you manage.’

‘For a while I was managing. But it’s in here.’ He tapped his temple. ‘You can’t escape from everything in here. The sadness, the loneliness, the guilt. It swirls around all the time. And then there’s bills, running a house, doing all the stuff a woman… my wife used to do. Looking after a kid.’ He puffed out a breath. ‘Having a drink helped. Stopped it all. Gave me a break.’ He blinked slowly. ‘And then the next day it’s all back. I’m right in the middle of it all again. No escape. So I’d pick up another bottle. It’s a cycle. There’s no way out of it.’

‘Finding your way out is what you have to concentrate on now. Not just for you but for Tom too. Living with an addict isn’t easy.’

He looked up briefly. ‘I hid most of it from Tom.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ said Maggie. Her voice was kind. ‘He saw it all. He’s lived through it all.’

Paul wiped away a tear. ‘Shit. I’m sorry.’

She handed him a tissue. ‘Here. Have a cry – you’ll feel better for it.’

Paul spluttered a laugh and took the tissue. ‘That’s not really my style.’

‘Nobody minds here.’ She waved a hand at the neat rows of gravestones.

His eyes seemed to follow her hand and fixed on the middle distance. ‘I never come to the grave. It’s too much. I can’t think of her being here. Makes it all too real.’ He sighed deeply. ‘You know she… my wife… she’d do her nut if she saw me like this. Tell me what an idiot I am.’