To the Devil's Tune

by Barnard, Jo

  “We had two beautiful children, and I had to bring them up and also earn a decent enough wage to ensure that our bills were paid and that they didn’t go without. But it wasn’t all bad. George was a soft and loving husband and father. The sad thing was, he was completely powerless over drink.

  “Reasoning with him never worked. Trying to make him feel bad about it never worked either. Interfering with him only made him drink more. My happiness became dependant on George not drinking, and his happiness became dependant on me being happy and not going on at him. We went round and round in circles like this for years, feeding the problem and making it worse. Nevertheless, we hung on in there.

  “And then, out of the blue, at the age of forty, I had a massive heart attack that nearly killed me. I looked death in the face and I realised that if I wanted to live, I had to make some changes to my lifestyle and my behaviour. After all, there was nothing I could do to change George’s.

  “I read something somewhere about Al-Anon, and so I phoned them for information, and was welcomed to join the nearest group. After all, my life had become unmanageable, and I was completely powerless – I had given it all away in my attempts to change the man I loved.

  “Once I’d learnt the twelve-step recovery programme, I realised that the alcohol itself wasn’t the problem. Taking alcohol out of the equation would not make everything ok. I had to take responsibility for my emotions and actions, and I had to allow George to take care of his.

  “I asked my boss at work if I could have a two-hour lunch break every day so that I could go home, completely relax my body and mind, and regain perspective. Naturally I took less pay as a result, but you can’t put a price on your health. If we don’t have our health, then we don’t have anything. So whether George was sober or drunk, I had to focus on me.”

  Annie stood up and began to hand out a sheet of paper to everyone.

  “So, darlings, I first admitted I was powerless, and that my life was unmanageable. There was no question; I had to surrender. Now let’s take a look at Step Two together. We come to believe that a Power, greater than ourselves, can restore us to sanity.

  “So, how do we all feel about that statement? Do we see how we might need to pull on some extra resources to get through these turbulent times, like this group perhaps?”

  Most people nodded, some said “yes”.

  “And do we feel up for supporting each other?” Everyone seemed to agree. “Ok, good. Right then, darlings, I’d like you all to focus your attention on the first two steps over the coming week. If things get tough, then all the more reason to turn to them, but please call me at any point if you need to. We mustn’t be lonely.

  “Now, if you want to make yourselves another hot drink before you leave, then please do. Take care, darlings, it’s cold out there.”

  Wrapping my thick scarf around my neck and buttoning up my woolly coat, I found myself doing a quick scan of the room, and couldn’t help noticing how faces were beginning to appear a little softer than they did earlier; even Mousey Martha’s. Probably the relief of not having to pour their hearts out in front of everyone, I thought.

  Chapter Nine

  Feeling keen and fairly positive, I was the first to arrive at the third session.

  “Jude! Lovely to see you,” boomed Annie’s large, confident voice enthusiastically. “Hasn’t it been a glorious day? I’ve had some beautiful birds visit me in my garden today, including a rotund little robin I call George. I like to think my George still keeps an eye on me you see.”

  “How lovely, Annie. Robins are my favourite too. There’s something quite magical about them.” I decided to break the mould and sit in a different chair this week. Shane the Mane, however, sat in his usual seat, and in hindsight, I wished I’d done the same. I was now having to face him which I found rather creepy, but at least the potent combination of aftershave and testosterone weren’t strangling my sinuses quite so much.

  The last person to arrive was Mousey Martha; dressed in her usual muted tones. This week she sported a pair of thick brown trousers and a plain beige round-necked jumper. She held a hanky to her nose and it was pretty obvious that she’d been crying. She sat down as discreetly as she could, hoping to pass the tears off as a cold.

  Perceptive as ever, Annie got straight to the point. “Welcome back, everyone. It’s lovely to see you all, it really is. Now it looks as though today has been particularly difficult for Martha, so Martha, darling, if you feel up to telling us what’s going on for you in your life at the moment, then perhaps we can offer you some support.”

  Martha nodded at the floor, giving her nose a quick blow and then folding her arms tightly across her body as if to cuddle herself. She took a deep breath in, and let out a hefty sigh, attempting to calm herself down. “It’s my son. Michael. He’s eighteen, and I’m ashamed to say that he’s a…” Martha hesitated. “…he’s a drug user. He spends most of his time shut away in his room, which, to be honest, I can handle, ‘cause at least I know where he is. But then there’ll be a knock on the door, and you never know who’s going to be there. We have all manner of unsavoury characters calling for Michael, and we’ve even had policemen turning up with their sniffer dogs to search our home. Very rarely do I answer the door to a friend of ours these days. I don’t think anyone feels welcome to call in anymore.

  “My husband and I are Christians. We haven’t brought him up to be an addict and a thief, and I feel like a failure as a mother. Michael is our only child. We didn’t think we could have children you see. And I guess we pinned all our hopes on him.

  “He’s a bright enough lad, but he’s always hated school. Right from when he was little he never wanted to go. He was shy, you see; sensitive. And so he’s come away with hardly a qualification to his name. I know that Michael’s a lovely boy deep down, and I still love him very much, but I feel like we’ve lost him. We’ve lost our beautiful sweet boy to something that’s so evil and so powerful.”

  Martha shook her head and blew her nose again. Annie passed her a tissue, having seen the soggy state of her hanky, and gestured for her to carry on.

  “The reason I’m feeling so upset today, is that I noticed this morning that some cash had gone missing from my purse. It wasn’t a fortune, but I’d got it out yesterday to pay the window cleaner, and the rest I was putting aside for the church’s Christmas bazaar on Saturday. I just assumed my husband had borrowed it for his game of golf, but he hadn’t. There was no other explanation. My own son had stolen from his mother, and it really hurts.

  “No matter how much we tell him he’s throwing his life away, he just carries on. He smiles and tells us not to worry, but really he couldn’t care less.

  “Every time he leaves the house, I turn myself inside out with worry, wondering if he’s lying in a ditch somewhere, or robbing an old lady perhaps. It’s as if he’s been possessed by the Devil. This morning’s episode was the last straw for my husband and he’s threatened to throw Michael out if he doesn’t clean up his act and start looking for a job. But that’s my worst nightmare you see. Not knowing where he is; not knowing if and when we would see him again.

  “Every day I rack my brains for the right words to use; words that will make him see what he’s doing; words that will snap him out of it. He’s so sucked in that I need to pull him out. I’m his mum and he’s my responsibility.

  “So, if anyone has any advice on what I can say or do, then please help me.” Martha sobbed, clutching her elbows with her hands, and leaning forwards slightly as if her stomach was in pain. I felt so sorry for her and wished I could think of an answer.

  “Thank you, Martha darling. I can feel your pain, I really can, and I’m sure we all appreciate your honesty.”

  Annie held up a battered paperback, covered in creases and stains. She took hold of her glasses that were hanging on a bright red chain around her neck, and raised them to sit at the end of her nose.

  “I want to introduce you to a wonderful book called The Language of Let
ting Go. This morning, I flicked through the pages and asked that I stop on a page that will be most helpful for our meeting tonight. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to read it to you…”

  Responding to the nods around the room, and clearing her throat, Annie began reading the selected excerpt.

  “How easy is it to blame our problems on others. ‘Look at what he’s doing’ …‘Look how long I’ve waited’ …‘Why doesn’t she call?’ …‘If only he’d change then I’d be happy’ …

  “Often our accusations are justified. We probably are feeling hurt and frustrated. In those moments, we may begin to believe that the solution to our pain and frustration is getting the other person to do what we want, or having the outcome we desire. But these self-defeating illusions put the power and control of our life in other people’s hands. We call this codependency.

  “The solution to our pain and frustration, however valid, is to acknowledge our own feelings. We feel the anger, the grief; then we let go of the feelings and find peace – within ourselves. We know our happiness isn’t controlled by another person, even though we may have convinced ourselves it is. We call this acceptance.

  “Then we decide that although we’d like our situation to be different, maybe our life is happening this way for a reason. Maybe there is a higher purpose and plan in play, one that’s better than we could have orchestrated. We call this faith.

  “Then we decide what we need to do, what is within our power to do to take care of ourselves. That’s called recovery.

  “It’s easy to point our finger at another, but it’s more rewarding to gently point it at ourselves.”

  Annie closed her book gently and removed the glasses from her nose.

  There was no doubt about it; these words had affected everyone in the room in one way or another. Martha sobbed quietly into her now soggy tissue. Shane the Mane looked to the floor and frowned. The Great Raymondo nodded gently in agreement. And I felt myself smile; realising the truth in this wisdom.

  It made perfect sense to me. I had spent so much of my life trying to please others and hoping that they would behave lovingly towards me in return, that I had given away nearly all of my power. No wonder I felt so miserable and empty.

  Wherever would I be without Annie? Without a doubt, she was my teacher.

  “So, darlings, let’s talk about the addict now. It doesn’t matter what the addiction is. Whether it’s drugs, alcohol, unhealthy relationships, pornography; it is almost irrelevant. People abuse themselves because they are sad inside, and they use their addiction as a coping mechanism; something that might just fill this empty void that they are feeling.

  “Firstly, we must understand that the addict is ill, and that they are far too self-absorbed to realise, worry or care about what someone else is going through.

  “Secondly, these people need and deserve love and affection – even if they have turned to crime; it doesn’t mean we cannot or must not love them. It is perfectly ok to love an addict, but we must focus on loving ourselves. When we love ourselves, we come to understand our limitations; what is acceptable to us and what is unacceptable.

  “When we are totally engrossed and caught up in someone else’s addiction, it means we are in denial, and also that we are not living our own lives. It is not the alcohol or drugs that are the real problem; it is the unacceptable behaviour of the addict. If the behaviour is not acceptable to you, then the addiction is a problem.

  “So, together, my darlings, we must work on the issue of boundaries. What is acceptable and what is not? We simply cannot allow ourselves to be pushed beyond our own limitations, or we will quite simply break.

  “Now then, let’s think back to our Serenity Prayer. We ask for the serenity to accept the things we cannot change and, Martha, darling, you absolutely do not have the power to singlehandedly change your son’s behaviour or situation. Can we all see that?”

  Everyone agreed.

  “So this brings us nicely on to Step Three of our programme: We make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand Him.”

  Shane the Mane crossed his legs, folded his arms and looked to the ceiling.

  “Now, Martha, you kindly shared with us that you follow the Christian faith, and so this step is really about surrendering to your God and letting him handle your situation for you.

  “But, darlings, please don’t think I’m trying to convert you into following a religion. I am absolutely not. In fact, I am not religious myself. But I do believe in a higher power; a power that is greater than me. And so whether your God is a religious figure, whether it’s Mother Nature, whether it’s the Man in the Moon, whether it’s the brightest star in the sky, whether it’s your Higher Self, or anything else for that matter, then that’s fine. Just so long as you can put your faith in something wonderful that you believe in.

  “Now, I understand that some of you may need some time to get used to this concept, but believe me; it’s so helpful if you can. It allows us to start letting go.

  “So, over the coming week, please continue to focus on the first two steps and really think about how you can best make Step Three meaningful to you. If you want to call me at any point meantime to discuss this or anything else, then please do.”

  * * *

  I sat staring out of the bus window and into the dark night sky, contemplating what God could mean for me. I hadn’t been one for religion ever since I attended my first-ever family christening service, where the vicar went on about us all being born as sinners until we rise with Christ through a christening, and how the godparents (in this case a shifty-looking male friend of the father’s, and a bimbo in her early twenties, dressed head to toe in designer bling) would show him the way.

  I remember sitting there, looking at my cousin’s child; this bouncing bundle of smiling innocence, and wondering how he could possibly be viewed as anything other than pure love. If this concept was true, then surely babies would be born with demonic eyes or disturbing grimaces and then, once christened, transform into angelic beings of grace and beauty. Only as I saw it, most babies were born adorable and soon turned into selfish little shits as they matured, christened or not. I wondered whether Mousey Martha’s Michael had been christened. More than likely, I reckoned.

  But although I wasn’t a fan of structured rules and regulations, I did often feel that a power far greater than me was at work. I only wished that he, she or it would work a bit harder in my favour sometimes, that’s all. I thought back to the image of the gurgling baby (who unfortunately was now a well-known expert in the art of graffiti).

  Pure Love, I thought. That can be my God.

  Chapter Ten

  It was ten in the morning and the frost remained heavy on the ground. I always started work late on a Thursday as it tended to be our quietest day in the shop. As I walked through the door, I noticed an unopened deck of cards sitting on the counter.

  “Oh, brilliant, they’ve arrived! How exciting! Did Rose drop these in this morning, Saff?” I was so busy ripping open the seal that I didn’t even notice that Saffie was crying in the kitchen. She emerged, massaging her temples, her eyes all red and blotchy.

  “Yes, she called in first thing. I gave her the money from the till.”

  “Saff! Whatever’s wrong?” Saffie was usually so upbeat and jovial, that it was hard to see her when she wasn’t. She hadn’t looked this upset since Martin had left her so I guessed it had to be bad.

  “Oh, it’s money, Jude. The landlord’s just announced he’s putting the rental up, and I’m struggling to make ends meet as it is. I just don’t think I have the time or the energy to get the business to the level it needs to be at. Sol might be growing up fast, but he still needs me and he deserves my attention.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her head around in a circle, as if to release some tension.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t want to put this on you; you’ve got enough on your plate, and I don’t want you losin
g sleep, worrying about your job as well. It’ll be ok. I’ll sort it somehow.”

  I gave her a hug, giving her back a soothing rub.

  “Look, why don’t you go home, catch up on some sleep, and make a nice hearty dinner for you and Sol. Put a movie on and snuggle up together on the sofa tonight. I can take care of things here, and I guarantee you’ll feel a whole lot better for a good rest. Then when you feel a bit stronger, you can think about the shop. What do you reckon?”

  Saffie sighed, nodded in agreement, grabbed her keys and gave me a kiss. “Thanks, Judith. Whatever would I do without you?”

  “Ditto, my friend. Now go get some sleep.”

  A rush of bitterly cold air blew in as the door closed behind her. I lifted the lid of the jewel-coloured box, its edges embossed with gold swirls, and removed the cards. They smelt fresh and crisp, and my hand tingled as I held them. They had been accompanied by a note from Rose, explaining that these weren’t the same as hers, but quite literally fell off the shop shelf in front of her, and had a really wonderful energy that felt perfect for me.

  With Saffie and the shop clearly in my mind, I shuffled the deck and laid them all face down on the counter. One card stood out from the rest, as if it was reaching its hand up, saying ‘pick me, pick me!’ I pushed it out with my finger and turned it over.

  Looking up at me was an image of two figures standing closely together, with the words ‘PARTNERSHIP – two heads are better than one’ written below.

  Feeling thrilled and thankful for the answer, I messaged Saffie straight away: ‘The cards say you need a partner to invest in the business.’

  And a few minutes later, I got a reply: ‘Thanks, Jude, that’s sweet of you, though I really can’t think of anyone who has the money to help me.’

  Feeling sure that this card had appeared for a reason, I did something I’d never done before. I began to pray.

  “Pure Love, please help me to support Saffie in her hour of need. Please help her to find a way to keep her lovely business going so that she can provide a comfortable life for herself and her son. Thank you.”