Page 61 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

Marta didn’t say anything.

Liz was hot, her heart was racing and she felt herself perspiring. She rolled down the window and felt cool air filter over her face. Admit it, Liz, said a little voice in her ear. This isn’t about today, this has been going on for months, years even. She’d been kidding herself about her drinking. Excusing it, justifying it, laughing it off. But it wasn’t funny, not anymore, not when she showed herself up like this. What must the girls think of her? And Noah? He was bound to tell his mum, and she wouldn’t blame Viv if she never put any work their way again. Liz squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of nausea enveloped her.

‘Stop the car please,’ she groaned. ‘I feel sick.’

Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way again.

Liz clutched the tissue Marta had given her, shame at what had happened making her head throb: the car swerving onto a grass verge, Liz stumbling out, this caring young woman rubbing her back while she threw up.

‘That was probably for the best. The situation feels raw now,’ Marta said softly. ‘But there will be a lesson here. There always is.’

Silent tears made tracks down Liz’s cheeks. This was a wake-up call. She’d relied on alcohol to get her through stressful situations for as long as she could remember. She was going to have to cut down, that was for sure.

‘We can ignore it, or learn from it,’ Marta continued. ‘If you don’t learn, there’s a good chance it’ll happen again. Alternatively, what happened today can be a catalyst for you to change. That’s the harder path, but in my experience, you never have to take that journey alone.’

Liz dried her tears. ‘You sound as if you know what you’re talking about.’

Marta nodded, her attention fixed on the junction, where she was waiting to turn right.

‘I’m a yoga teacher now and I love my life. But a few years back, I had a career in London. I felt like I’d made it, but my body couldn’t handle the unhealthy lifestyle. It was fast-paced, too much stress, too much alcohol, drugs even, on occasion. Not enough sleep, nothing to nourish me. I ended up having a stroke on the underground. I’d never been so scared in my life; I thought I was dying. That was my catalyst to change. Left my job, went travelling to southeast Asia, discovered yoga. And myself too, I suppose.’

‘Wow.’ Liz swallowed. She couldn’t imagine changing her life so completely, not at her age. And, besides, was there any need? It wasn’t as if she was an alcoholic. She could take it or leave it. It was just that she took it a bit too often. She pressed a hand to her head; all this thinking was making her brain rattle inside her skull. ‘I admire you for taking control of your life like that.’

‘I didn’t have a choice,’ Marta replied lightly. There was a calmness and a confidence to her that Liz had never felt. ‘I rarely drink now. Everything in moderation. The important thing is to notice what your driver is, why you behave the way you do. It’s not as easy to identify as you might think.’

‘But you did it?’ Liz asked.

Marta nodded. ‘My driver was comparison. I compared myself to everyone else constantly and felt that I was falling behind: my bonus was smaller, I wasn’t being promoted fast enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I was still flat-sharing when my colleagues were on the property ladder. I drank as a way of ignoring my problems, I pushed myself to breaking point until I broke.’

Liz had said something similar to Skye only a few hours ago, about not comparing herself to Clare. ‘You should talk to my god-daughter Skye, I think she needs to hear your story too.’

‘I have spoken to her. I invited her to come to my sunrise yoga. You should both come. I think it might help you.’

Liz promised to think about it but in all honesty couldn’t see herself contorting her body into uncomfortable positions in public.

Conversation between them stopped as they came into Salcombe. Liz’s thoughts flew to Clare and Skye, and Ivy, of course. Tears pricked at her eyes again, the weight of her guilt heavy in her stomach. She owed them an apology, that much was certain. But an explanation too? Her heart thumped; could she even explain it to herself? What was her driver?

It was another hour before the girls returned. When Marta had dropped Liz off, she’d swallowed some tablets, forced herself to drink water and then fallen asleep on the sofa with the sound of the rain drumming down on the balcony outside the window.

The slam of a car door made her stomach tighten with dread. It was time to face the music. When she opened the front door, Skye was helping Clare out of the passenger seat. Clare was wearing a sling, her face was ash-white and her eyes red and puffy. In the back of the car, Ivy was screaming the place down.

‘Your poor arm!’ Liz swallowed a sob at the sight of them, they both looked exhausted. Shame ricocheted through her, this was all her stupid fault.

‘Yep. Fractured. Two places,’ Clare muttered, trying to retrieve her handbag from the footwell.

‘Excuse me, Liz, can I get past?’ Skye shunted Liz to the side and grabbed Clare’s bag for her.

‘Of course, sorry. What can I do?’ Liz asked.

‘Get Ivy out of the car, but be careful, she’s been sick.’

‘No!’ Clare blocked Liz’s access to the car door with her body. ‘You’ve been drinking. Skye, you’ll have to get Ivy. Liz, please can you get the bags out of the boot?’

‘Of course.’ Liz shrank back as if she’d been burned.

Clare tucked her head down and walked into the house, hugging her arm to herself.

‘I’m so sorry about what happened,’ Liz croaked.