To the Devil's Tune

by Barnard, Jo

  Annie listened, “mmm-ing” every now and again as if she was nodding. Not once did she say “that’s awful” or “poor you”. Her tone remained calm as if she wasn’t at all surprised.

  “Well, I’m sorry you’ve had such a difficult time, darling, but I think I may be able to help if you’ll allow me to.”

  “Yes please, Annie, I’m open to anything. I know I can’t go on like this.”

  “Right then. I’ve been setting up a group. Well, a programme really, to help people who are struggling, with their recovery. The first session starts this Wednesday evening at seven-thirty, in the small room at the back of the village hall. If you’d like to join us then all you need to bring is a small donation to help towards the room hire and refreshments. That and an open heart if you can. Now, how does that sound?”

  “It sounds wonderful. Thank you so much, Annie. I’ll see you then.”

  “Right oh, darling. Any problem meantime, you know where I am,” she said in the same calm tone before hanging up.

  Chapter Seven

  I snapped my umbrella shut, opening and closing it a few times more to shake off the excess rain. The hall looked a bit dingy from the outside and I hoped the inside was a tad more welcoming. I took off my jacket and popped my umbrella down in the corner, next to a couple of other ones. The entrance smelt rather musty. Not unpleasant as such; just not aired sufficiently. My stomach was doing summersaults. I’d been seriously nervous all day and had been far too anxious to eat. This really was unknown territory.

  As I walked into the main room, I saw a circle of chairs, most of which had already been filled. But wait. Where was Annie? Not wanting to cause a fuss, I sat down in one of the three vacant chairs. No one was talking to each other and most people nodded at me before looking back down at the floor.

  “Alright?” said the bloke sitting next to me with a wink and a semi-smile.

  “Hello,” I replied politely. He looked like a throwback from the eighties. Tight stonewashed jeans, a white ‘muscle’ top with a V-neck that revealed plenty of chest hair, a matching chunky neck chain and bracelet in muted gold, and a shoulder-length head of shaggy, highlighted hair, pulled loosely back in a ponytail. I popped my bag down on the floor, noticing his deck-shoes which housed his hairy feet. There was no doubt about it; this bloke was furry. I joined the others in their awkward attempts to avoid eye contact, secretly wondering how this man’s jewellery didn’t get caught up in his shag-piled pecs.

  I heard a toilet flush and Annie appeared from the ladies’, walking confidently to her seat, acknowledging everyone with a friendly smile. She was as I remembered; tall and solidly built, with steel grey hair. She wore a vibrant raspberry pink jumper with lipstick to match, and a large blue ring made of lapis lazuli. It was hard to tell her age, but I reckoned she was in her late seventies, or maybe even a healthy-looking eighty.

  She looked at her watch. It was seven-thirty-five.

  “Ok, darlings, I’m just waiting for one more, so let’s give them a couple of minutes’ grace, seeing as it’s their first time. After that, folks, if you don’t show up on time, you’ll still be very welcome to join us, but we will start without you.” She grinned a cheeky smile that seemed to put everyone in the room at ease.

  Annie busied herself by putting some papers in order and reading an excerpt from a well-fingered book.

  “Ok, darlings, let’s make a start. It’s a shame that we have one seat still empty but that’s obviously how it’s meant to be this time, so let’s just accept it. Right then. Let’s begin by introducing ourselves. As we go round, I’d like each individual to say their name, and then for the rest of the group to repeat the name back to them. If we can start with you then please.”

  Annie gestured to a timid-looking lady to her left, dressed in a pale pink twinset and a grey A-lined skirt. What with her short mousey hair and pale complexion, she looked as though she would quite like to fade into the uninteresting wallpaper behind her. As she opened her mouth to speak, her cheeks twitched nervously. “Hello, I’m Martha.”

  “Martha,” we all replied, awkwardly. Mousey Martha, I thought. I was terrible at remembering names, so had a habit of creating my own versions so they would stick. I never meant it unkindly. It just helped, that’s all.

  We moved our gaze to the next person in line; a friendly-looking chubby gent with dark grey hair and a black moustache. “Pleased to meet you all. I’m Ray.”

  “Ray,” we chanted back. The Great Raymondo, I thought.

  The introductions continued around the circle, getting closer and closer to me, and as we reached the hairy chap next to me, my stomach flipped madly and I felt my throat redden. I wasn’t used to speaking in front of people.

  “Hi, guys, I’m Shane.” Oh yes, Shane the Mane. That one would certainly stick.

  Oh, God, it was my turn now. “Hi, I’m Jude.”

  “Jude,” everyone responded. It felt really good to be acknowledged by the group, and I now understood Annie’s suggestion. It eased the loneliness somehow.

  “And I’m Annie.”

  “Annie,” we all replied, smiling.

  “So, darlings, welcome, and thank you for being here, at what I hope will be the first meeting of many. Before we begin, I have a few rules that I believe are very important for us all to adhere to. First of all, we are all equal. Just because I’m sitting here leading this evening’s meeting, doesn’t mean that I am any better than you, and you all have as much right to speak and be heard as anyone else in this group. Secondly, what is said in the room stays in the room. This must remain a safe place where we can explore and share our innermost thoughts and feelings, and so out of this room, we must practise and respect complete anonymity. Is that understood?” Everyone nodded in agreement.

  “Now, the aim of this group is to provide a place where we can come together and support each other through difficult times, using a recovery programme that applies to us all. So who am I to have done this? Well, over twenty years ago, I set up an Al-Anon group that is still going strong to this day. And as some of you may know, Al-Anon is an organisation that offers a recovery programme to the loved ones of alcoholics. My lovely late husband had a real problem with drink, God bless him.

  “Now, whether alcohol does or doesn’t feature in your own life problems, matters not. I strongly believe that we all need a recovery programme that will restore us to sanity when times get tough. Because let’s face it, life does not always appear to be a bed of roses does it? And that’s why we’re all sitting here this evening. We all need some support and guidance at some point or another. And for us, that point is now.

  “Now then, darlings, I must share a little secret. So the saying goes, with age, comes wisdom. And there’s no doubt about it – I am extremely old! And hopefully wise too. And I have felt guided, not only to set up this group, but also to approach and speak with each of you, and I must trust in these feelings. I truly believe that together, with total love and commitment, we can move mountains.”

  Annie peered at her watch again. “Well, time is of the essence, and there’s only so much we can cover in each session, so please bear with and be patient. Everyone will have ample opportunity to share their concerns, but it can’t all happen tonight.’

  She turned to face me. “Well, Jude, dear, I can’t keep going clockwise around the room so let’s start with you if we may. Do you feel up to telling the group why you are here and what kind of support you’d like from the others?”

  Not wanting to be rude to Annie, I nodded and took a deep breath. “Ok then. Crikey, I’m not sure where to start.”

  Annie smiled sympathetically “How about at the beginning? Take your time. You’ll be fine.”

  “Errmm, ok then. Well, I guess my life began to get difficult when my parents divorced and I was separated from my dad and my sister, both of whom I was very close to. They lived together, and I lived with my mum, her new female partner Francine, who was always lovely to me, and her daughter Suzette, wh
o was not. Suzette was several years older than me and so was often left to look after me when Mum and Francine went out. She was always perfectly charming to me in front of them, but as soon as we were alone, she would say the most awful things.

  “Typical things were that I was ugly and stupid, that no one liked me, that our mums wished I’d gone to live with my dad instead. But the weird thing was, she would always say these things with a smile on her face. She would make me a drink and tell me she’d put bleach in it. And she would say cruel things about my mum’s appearance, knowing that I’d never hurt my mum by repeating what she said.

  “I ended up feeling so bad about myself – ugly, guilty, worthless and alone. I missed my dad and I didn’t know where to turn. I was convinced I was an awful person and it was then that I began to pull my hair out. Causing myself pain helped me to momentarily forget my feelings. It was a release; a bit like crying I guess, but without the tears.

  “This went on for years, progressing from pulling my hair out, to burning myself, to making myself bleed. But this all stopped when I met my husband Matt.”

  I felt the tears starting to well again, and I swallowed hard to clear the lump of tension from my throat. “We were so happy together, like soul mates. I felt so loved. He was all I needed. We got married, moved to India with his work and everything was wonderful. We were planning on starting a family…”

  The tears were rolling down my cheeks now, burning as they went.

  “Then I found out my dad was ill and I flew back. My sister became distant, and it felt like she wanted to hurt me. And then Matt became distant, and it felt like he wanted to hurt me too. My dad died two weeks before my thirtieth birthday, and Matt flew back for the funeral. We were staying with my sister at my dad’s house in Scotland, and Matt suggested I go for a pamper day at the local spa. He’d bought me two treatments and lunch there as a birthday treat. But during my massage, I got really upset and decided to go home early. I just wanted Matt to hold me. But as I walked through the door, I heard a commotion. Both he and Deb were naked. They’d been enjoying a day of passion while I was out of the way. Turned out that, unbeknown to me, they’d been texting each other for weeks.

  “Matt was furious, saying that it was all my fault for abandoning our relationship; for not showing him enough love, and then he flew back to India where, as far as I know, he still is.

  “So I’m now renting a pokey flat back here in England, and working in my friend’s shop on minimum wage. I’m just so lonely again. It’s like no one else can possibly understand what I’m feeling. And I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve started self-harming again, though I really don’t want to any more. But how can I carry on when I have no self-worth; when I don’t believe in myself?”

  I took a deep breath and blew my nose, trying to control the sobbing.

  “I believe in you, Jude,” Annie said.

  “I believe in you too,” added the Great Raymondo.

  “Me too,” piped up Shane the Mane, his hairy hand patting my arm.

  Annie picked up a pile of papers and began to hand one out to everyone. “Thank you, Jude, for sharing your story so openly. I know how painful it is to do that, especially when you don’t yet know anyone. You’re a very brave woman.

  “Now, can anyone else relate to Jude’s feeling of helplessness? Please raise your hand if you can.”

  Slowly but surely, everyone in the room put their hand in the air, including Annie.

  “So I feel the time is right to look at Step One of our recovery programme.” We all looked at our sheet.

  “So, Step One then. We admit that our life has become unmanageable and that alone, we are powerless. Is everyone able to relate to this?”

  We all nodded with a sense of mutual defeat, and I noticed I wasn’t the only person to have shed a tear or few.

  “Now, darlings, please let me explain that each of us here is part of a circle of hope that is far greater than any of our individual problems and differences. Together we are stronger.

  “Please turn over your sheets and let’s finish our meeting tonight by saying together the words of the Serenity Prayer.”

  Willingly, we all joined in, albeit with solemn voices:

  “God, grant me

  the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

  the courage to change the things I can,

  and the wisdom to know the difference.”

  “May I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for showing up tonight. That’s the most important thing you can do at the moment – show up. Because guess what? The healing process can’t begin if you don’t. I really hope to see you all again next week – same time, same place.”

  A few quiet but deeply meant thank yous were thrown Annie’s way. Mousey Martha was the first to scurry out of the door, with the rest of us following closely behind.

  I fell into my bed that night, exhausted by the resurfacing of all the emotions. But I also felt strangely cleansed, as though a big ball of knotted string had been released from my stomach. And although I never would have relished the thought of being the first group member to pour their heart out in front of a bunch of strangers, I was really glad I had. Maybe those metaphorical ten swords were beginning to lift from my back already.

  Chapter Eight

  I awoke with a jump. My skin was wet to the touch and my bedclothes were soaked through. I looked at the clock. It was three-thirty in the morning. The image of Matt and Deb, their bodies naked; writhing and grinding together, was still vivid in my mind. How could they? What had I done to deserve being treated like that by two of my most trusty soul mates? I had given him my mind, my body and my heart, not just partially but one hundred percent. I had allowed him to do whatever he wanted with me; nothing was off limits, and yet there he was, doing all those intimate things with someone else. And not just anyone else; my big sister. Maybe he found her more attractive. Maybe she smelt better, tasted better. Maybe her womanly curves were more seductive to him than my petite frame. Maybe she took the lead. Maybe she moaned louder.

  I dug my fingernails in to my ankle, ripping the scab clean off, and watched the fresh blood creep to the surface.

  * * *

  Wednesday evening couldn’t come soon enough, and I arrived to find the same faces sitting in the same seats as last week.

  “Darlings, do make yourselves a hot drink – it’s nippy in here tonight. And don’t be too polite to dive into the tin of biscuits on the table. They’re there to be eaten, and if you don’t eat them, I will, and we can’t have that now, can we?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” winked Shane the Mane, helping himself to a couple of chocolate digestives to accompany his strong black coffee.

  I didn’t usually drink caffeine in the afternoons, but I was feeling so knackered from a run of bad nights, that I made an exception. The rancid smell of the long-life milk aside, it felt comforting to be holding a warm drink between my chilly hands.

  I wondered who would be the centre of attention tonight. Looking around, I could tell people felt anxious. At least I’d got the worst bit out of the way.

  “So then, darlings, how are you all this week?” A few of the group nodded and muttered under their breaths that they were ok thanks. Others continued their assessment of the floor. “And, Jude, how have you felt after you bravely told us all about your story last time?”

  Surprised to be in the spotlight yet again, I gripped my mug tightly. “Well, I felt pretty good straight after the session, as if I was already turning a corner. But then I started having some pretty disturbing dreams which really upset me, and I just feel exhausted now. I’m ashamed to say that I have caused pain to myself again since. I keep looking at Step One, and I totally agree that I feel powerless. So I guess I took a small step forward, followed by a couple of huge leaps back.”

  Annie nodded and smiled gently. “I can see how you would feel that way, darling, but believe me, you are not stepping backwards. You have, in actual fact, taken a huge lea
p forwards, and as a result, some uncomfortable feelings have risen to the surface to be dealt with. When these painful images or thoughts come up for us, we always have a choice. We can either bury them back down and ignore them, or we can look them in the face and work with them. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes it does, thanks, Annie, although facing these demons isn’t particularly easy is it?”

  Annie laughed. “Whoever said recovery is easy was lying! It’s not easy. It takes hard work, commitment, and plenty of surrendering. But believe me – it is possible. I’ve been in recovery for over thirty years, and I still have to return to my programme every day. Thank God I have a programme, or I don’t know where I’d be. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane!”

  Annie didn’t just look sane to me though. She looked happy. Really happy.

  The Great Raymondo sat forward in his chair and cleared his throat nervously. “Annie, you said last week that you were married to an alcoholic. Do you mind me asking how bad things got before you turned to Al-Anon?”

  “Thanks for your question, Ray, and no, of course I don’t mind sharing my story with you. Healing can only begin when we are completely honest with ourselves and each other.

  “I married my lovely George when we were both twenty. He was a big man; taller than me, very handsome, and a wonderfully sweet-natured gentleman. Even through all of our turbulent times, I never once stopped loving him, nor he me.’

  Raymondo smiled, as if he somehow understood.

  “We often think of alcoholics as drop-outs, lying on a park bench with a brown paper bag, but this isn’t the truth of the matter. Many people with very powerful jobs rely on drink to get them through. And George was no different. He had a responsible job and his staff and colleagues all loved him. But what they didn’t know was that although he was working hard, the lovely George was also drinking all of our money away.