“But she knows she drinks?” Poppy asks.
“Oh God, yeah. After our father died, Mom didn’t bother hiding it any longer. She went to pieces. She left rat poison out in the garage that killed our Old English Sheepdog.”
“Oh no.”
“I left to go into the Army—I had to get away. I felt terribly guilty at leaving Izzy with her, though. When Izz turned eighteen, I told her she had to go to university, and persuaded her to go to veterinary college. We didn’t have much money, though, and poor Izzy had to work every evening to pay her way. Several times during her first year one of us had to go home because Mom had gotten into trouble. She’d get drunk, then go out into town, cause a scene, make a nuisance of herself.”
Poppy looks horrified. “How awful for you both.” I’m sure the thought of the solid Charlie King or his sweet wife Ophelia doing anything like that is beyond her.
“Eventually,” I continue, “it got too much. We scraped together enough money to send Mom to rehab. I had to take out a loan—again, Izzy doesn’t know that. It was worth it, though; Mom made a good recovery. She ended up meeting a guy—Luke—and has lived with him ever since. She’s been doing okay.”
“Do you see her much? I know Izzy doesn’t go down there very often.”
“No, Izzy’s relationship with her is complicated, and she finds it difficult to be in Mom’s company. I see her a bit more often, maybe once a month. She’s not an easy woman, but I try to keep an eye on her.”
“So what happened recently? Why is she back in rehab?”
“I keep in touch with a woman called Rebecca, who’s Mom’s neighbor in Hamilton. When Mom first came out of rehab, I gave Rebecca my contact details just in case Mom had a relapse and she needed me. Rebecca has become a good friend of Mom’s, and it’s nice to know she has someone there if she needs them. A month or so ago, Rebecca emailed to say she thought I should know that Mom and Luke were having problems. She’d heard them arguing several times, although Mom refused to talk to her about it. I knew she’d never admit it to me, so… I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t call, because I’ve been busy at work and, frankly, I don’t need the aggravation.”
“That’s understandable,” Poppy says, reaching out to hold my hand.
I blow out a breath. “Then, about a week later, Rebecca emailed again. Luke had walked out. Mom consoled herself with alcohol for the first time. Drunk as a skunk, she wandered into town and caused a scene outside the store where he works. He wasn’t there at the time, but she broke a window, screamed and cried, then threw up outside, and someone called the police. Luke came to pick her up and took her home. I spoke to him on the phone, and he was curt and angry, and yelled that he’d had enough. I begged him to stay, at least to ensure she was all right, but a few days later he walked out again, and this time he didn’t go back.”
“And that tipped her over the edge.”
“Yes. I haven’t told Izzy about this. She was getting ready for her wedding, and I didn’t want her to worry.”
“That’s fair enough,” Poppy says, “but she won’t be happy when she eventually finds out.”
“I don’t care.” I set my jaw. “She’s had a tough life, and she’s finally found happiness with Hal. She deserves some time to be with him without worrying about Mom.”
Poppy doesn’t push it. “So you’ve paid for her to go back into rehab?”
“Yeah, I took her in a couple of weeks ago. Last time, she had a month-long program. This time, they’ve suggested she stay for two months. It’ll cost twenty thousand dollars.”
Poppy’s eyebrows lift. “Wow.”
“I’ve paid for the first three weeks, but…” I hesitate, but there’s no point in holding back now. “I’m struggling to find the rest of the money.”
Poppy’s green eyes study me. I’d half expected her to say immediately that she’d give it to me, but she’s cleverer than that. She knows I’d say no. “That’s why you said you’d help me out,” she says. “For the money.”