17 January 2009
Last night, to my absolute horror, Kay came up to me in tears as I was reading blogs on the computer and told me that Greg has started drinking again. She had seen him go out the front door, fetch a bottle from the car and heard him back in the kitchen again pouring something out. When I challenged him about it, he denied it, then I pulled a small bottle of whisky from his jacket pocket. I hit him with the bottle and tossed the contents down the sink. I could have murdered him there and then. Kay was in tears. I was in tears and all he could do was justify it, find reasons. Not a word of sorry passed his lips. He was just experimenting, he said, to see if he could still have the occasional sip, particularly if friends come round with drinks. (An old friend of his is visiting next weekend, whom Greg has not seen in nearly 30 years). I know we have all been expecting this in the back of our minds, but I was nevertheless choked, as I had hoped this time, he could lay off the stuff and had managed so well since September. For now I am speechless and cannot say any more. Kay is in the middle of early A-level exams this week, so I am trying to control my true feelings until the exams are over for her. Then I shall let rip at him. Suffice to say I can barely look at him or speak to him at the moment, I am so angry, so disgusted and so very disappointed.