Cold Shoulder by Lynda La Plante Page A

kitchen, smashing glasses as she attempted to get one from the cupboard. She swore and kicked at the jagged pieces. Her eyes were unfocused, her face bright red and sweating. She swayed as she poured and held out a half-full tumbler. ‘Have a drink, skinny!’
    Lorraine was about to take the glass when the front door opened. She had no idea who the short, squat man was, who knocked the glass out of Rosie’s hand, snatched the bottle from her and began pouring the contents down the sink. Rosie screamed and lunged at him with a punch, missed, and fell into the closet. Brushes tumbled around her as she slumped on the floor, weeping. Her sobs came louder as he ran water into the sink, making sure every drop of liquor was gone. Rosie’s head fell forward onto her chest and her breath came in terrible, heaving rasps.
    ‘Help me get her into the bathroom and
turn that fucking music off!’
Lorraine did as she was told, and between them they dragged Rosie into the bedroom then the bathroom by both arms, like a beached whale, and inched her into the base of the shower, before the man turned it on full blast. When Rosie finally came to, she began to vomit. The man held her head up, getting soaked himself in the process. He snapped out instructions for Lorraine to pass him towels and a pillow. When the vomiting subsided he stuffed a pillow under Rosie’s dripping head, and stood up. ‘She’ll sleep it off now.’
    Lorraine followed him into the sitting room. He was attempting to dry himself with one of the kitchen towels. ‘You started her on this binge, huh?’
    Lorraine shook her head. He began to brew coffee, and fetched cups, treading warily over the broken glass. ‘What brought it on, then?’
    ‘I dunno.’ She folded her arms. The smell of the bourbon hanging in the air made her swallow because it smelt so good. ‘You got a cigarette?’
    He tossed over a squashed packet, and rubbed his shoulder. ‘She must weigh a ton. I’m getting too old for this — she’s put my shoulder out before now, and my back. Once she knocked me out stone cold… So, if you didn’t bring the bottle in, did she get it herself?’
    Lorraine lit the cigarette and pocketed the packet. ‘I dunno. I was asleep.’
    ‘Oh, yeah?’ he sneered. ‘Sleeping one off, were you?’
    Lorraine was annoyed by his aggressive, punchy manner. His neck was short, his greasy black hair thinning, even his hands were podgy. ‘You her boyfriend or something?’ she asked.
    ‘Her what? You kiddin’? Need a bigger man than me to take that rhino on. I’m her sponsor, but I dunno for how long. They called me from the liquor store — little arrangement we have, saves them from one of her visits. You get her started, did you? Then she went for a bottle? After she’s finished one bottle she’s only after the next, and those bars they got up may have kept them safe from the riots but they wouldn’t from Rosie.’ He helped himself to coffee, and poured some for Lorraine. ‘I’m Jake Valsack.’
    ‘Lorraine.’
    Jake eased his square backside onto the sofa. ‘Well, you made it through a night, then? And…’ He looked at his watch and smiled. When he smiled, his face changed from something that resembled a chimpanzee into a cute pixie. ‘You been dry almost a whole day. We’ll go to the meeting — she won’t be round for a while yet.’
    Lorraine had no desire to go to another meeting, so she said she’d stay with Rosie. Jake hooted with laughter. Once again she grew increasingly irritated with him.
    ‘So, Lorraine, what kind of work did you do before drinking?’
    She crossed to the kitchen and poured more coffee. ‘I was a secretary.’
    He swivelled round. ‘So you can type, huh? You got a job? Rosie said you’d need one.’
    ‘You going to give me one?’
    Jake hooted again. ‘What you think I am — nuts?’
    Lorraine sat on the sofa arm. ‘So what did
you
do before drinking, Jake?’ she inquired sarcastically. He looked up at her from