Tomorrow Begins Today

Tomorrow Begins Today

Annie Campbell

Copyright © 2014 Annie Campbell

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Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge those without whose help this book may never have made print. Thanks to my husband, who gave me the time and support to write this, (and who didn't take to badly to his character being killed off in the first paragraph) and to Sheila McLaren, who advised me on rules of adoption and fostering in Scotland. Any errors I have made are my own.

But mostly I want to thank two members of the real world SL, Gilmer and Gleefan. Soberrecovery.com is the real SL, and through the website I met and became friends with both of these wonderful ladies, one of whom I have had the great pleasure of meeting face to face. They read my manuscripts and advised me in editing it to the finished product you are about to read. If there are parts of it you do not like so much, those are doubtless the parts I chose to retain against advisement.

Finally I have to acknowledge SR, who gave me and countless others our lives back.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

Chapter One

I groaned as I tightened my belt another notch. The bereavement diet; every fat lass should try it. I looked in the mirror, my usually round cheerful face was drawn and haggard, my eyes dull and lifeless. I looked every one of my 43 years and some. I tried a smile but the resulting grimace would have sent small children screaming for their mothers.

Tuning away from the hateful mirror, I checked my watch. Yup still 6:36. I heard a ping and picked up my mobile. As soon as I saw the name, I switched phone for tablet and settled on the bed to open the message.

Morning sweetheart, ready for it? I read and smiled, then realizing the time difference, pinged back you having, trouble sleeping again love?

Naw, stayed up specially Can't have you heading to the back of beyond all on your own without anyone to send you off.

Muppet

None taken

Mickey, you are an idiot. I can't imagine what I would do without you

You don't need to hen, I'm not going anywhere, except to bed now, obviously.

How's the play going?

Mixed reviews; they love me!

Of course, they have great taste

Now I remember why I stayed up

oh haha, I best go; I need to find a torch

Don't they have electricity in Teuchterville?

Sweetie they even have Wi-Fi. I just need it for late night poop trips with Misty

Nice imagery

Idiot. Oh Mickey, am I doing the right thing? Two weeks in the back of beyond with a bunch of problem kids? What made me think I was qualified to help?

Dunnae be fishing love, you know you are wonderful. If you can give those kids half the support you have given me, let alone those wasters on SL, they will thrive. SL was the website where we had met.

You are one of those wasters on SL pet, I know you still pop in and encourage some of the newbies, so don't play the evil grouch with me!

Ach! I mostly just go on to wind them up, and because misery loves company. Just promise you will look after yourself and let me know you are there safely. Look out for those teuchters; they're used to sheep, so a real live woman will be some temptation to them

Not the way I'm looking just now, I think they'd prefer the sheep!

Fishing again

Seriously, I am looking rough as bears bum just now, not sleeping, still no appetite...

Sweetheart it's only been six months Mickey was right. My heart flipped. For whole moments at a time now, I could forget. Forget the morning six months ago when I woke to the cold still form of my darling husband.

If I closed my eyes, I was right back there. I had loved Iain, it was second time around for both of us, and we had expected to age disgracefully together. He was my love, my best friend, my partner in crime, and, until I had admitted my secret drinking; my binge partner. He was so proud of my achievement; bought me a beautiful engraved locket for my one year sobriety anniversary. Just two days later, he died. It was his heart. There had been no warnings; yes he was a little overweight, yes he travelled a lot in a stressful job, but his blood pressure was normal, he golfed, he was fine.

My eyes filled, I so missed my man.

Oh, Mickey love, I miss him!

Course you do Lou, listen if it gets too much for you, head home. No one is going to judge you

I know, I know. You are right. Besides, I will have Faith with me. Look, I'd better go, she will be arriving soon and I still need to do a check around the house. I will message you when I get there

Okay Lou. I'm glad you have her, she will hold yer hand. Take it easy. I love you xxxx

Love you too xxx

I had never shared Mickey with Iain, I'm not sure why. Part of me felt that Iain could never understand that I could love another man so much in a purely platonic way. Another part of me just selfishly wanted to keep this friendship to myself.

We had met on a thread on SL - SoberLiving, a website devoted to helping people with drink and drugs problems to find their way through the minefield of recovery leading to a sober life. We had both turned up on the same thread, and found we had a lot in common, including getting into trouble with the site moderators. Fearing at one time we would both be barred, we began messaging off site; sometimes several times a day, sometimes only one or twice a week. We had shared with each other the intimacies of our lives, the depths of our addictions; our fears, our achievements. We had bonded over our love of Scottish football, he an ex pat living in New York, me a Sassenach living north of the border. Our shared humour and light hearted insults amused and amazed the Americans on the thread, and kept things from becoming too intense. The Aussies jumped in with their own slagging, especially of our weather and our cricketers, revealing a similar sense of humour. Other Brits joined in, and then followed several Americans disproving the archaic belief that they didn't understand irony, and suddenly we were a cohesive group, helping each other through the minefield of sobriety.

It was a worldwide site so there were folk from all over, and I had made several strong friendships. You can get really close to someone when you share sordid secrets like where you stashed your spirits so you could top up your drinking in secret or how attractive the early morning vomiting was, and just how often you could get away with days off work with 'stomach bugs'.

My other great friend from the sight was Faith, real name Gloria, she was a no nonsense northerner, a few years older than me. It was Gloria who had heard about the camp and who persuaded me that spending a fortnight in the highlands with children from troubled backgrounds would do me the world of good. I had taken plenty of persuading.

This last six months, for perhaps the first time in my life, I had barely seen beyond my own grief. I knew that I was avoiding my daughter Ellie and grandson Connor; I had felt I couldn't give them what they needed just now. I wasn't being fair, but I also knew she had plenty of friends and a loving husband to support her. I regularly checked her Facebook page to keep an eye on her. I had been too selfish in my own loss to want to listen to hers. I hated myself for it, but couldn't seem to find a way to breach the new distance between us.

I looked across at the photos around the room; my grandson at every stage of his young life, including one in his kilt at Iain and my wedding five years earlier. Seven now, this was his first loss, and he was bewildered. How could his favourite granddad have gone? He understood death, just couldn't accept it. Another photo, in his mothers' arms at her graduation, my eyes filled. We were so proud of her that day, as she marched up, head held high to collect her achievement award. Only we knew how focussed she was on swinging her arms correctly, on keeping time in her head. Her police uniform spotless, dress shoes gleaming.

I owed her more than this, I knew; my wonderful loving daughter. The daughter I had always wanted and been denied until I had met her father. I had resented her in the early days of our relationship thinking of her and her brother as Iains excess baggage. Then I had finally realised I must embrace all aspects of my new life, not just cherry pick the bits I wanted. It hadn't been easy to begin with, she a jealous teenager, not wanting to share daddy with another woman, me thinking it time she grew up and stopped relying on him for everything. Daddy stuck in the middle, loving it that two women were fighting over his affections, but trying to keep the peace. Young Iain always in the background, as grounded as his father, accepting of me and my place in his fathers' affections. He diligently worked away at his landscaping business. He kept his private life private, and the first we knew he had a steady girl, was when he hesitantly mentioned he might be getting engaged.

Could have been worse Iain had mumbled sleepily into my neck that night, he may have just invited us to his wedding reception, without bothering to mention the wedding

At least Iain had seen his lad settled. Heather was a lovely lass and it broke my heart that the child she was now expecting would never know the granddad Connor had grown up with.

My buzzing mobile dragged me back to the present.

Gloria, Hi is the train on time?

Apparently so sweetie, I must say, it's all very civilised, though I could murder a decent cuppa. We're just leaving Edinburgh so about an hour from you?

That's good, I'm all packed up, and Misty is ready. We'll head out soon and I'll see you at the station."

That's grand love. I'm really looking forward to this, it'll be a break."

A break? A bunch of damaged teenagers on the rampage? You sure you aren't going senile?

Oh Chickie, any time away from my own problems and dealing with someone else's is a break.

I guess so. I'm just hoping to survive it.

I smiled as I closed my phone and remembered the first time I had heard her voice. It had been three days after Iains sudden death, my world was upside down and I was in limbo. Strangely I hadn't even considered drinking, though the bottle had previously always been my 'go to' guy. Months earlier when she had been having a hard time, I had text Gloria and we had kept in touch, but never spoken.

Now she had called full of concern, it would appear that SL was alight with members wondering what had happened to me, as I usually posted a few times a day on several threads. Gloria had been inundated with personal messages, asking if she knew how and where I was.

I told her what had happened. I cried; she let me. I talked, she listened. Tentatively she broached the subject of booze, reassured when I promised that I would not be reaching for a glass. I had clasped my new locket in my hand and confirmed that whatever was ahead would be dealt with soberly. Through her ministrations the next few days, and the closeness I had with Iains family, I survived the funeral, not really taking in just how many people were going to miss my man. Ellie and I had held each other close all day, each of us drawing strength from the link. Ellies husband Joe had brought Connor to the service, a lost little boy dwarfed in a formal suit; and had then taken him back home. Afterwards, faces blurred from tears, an endless stream of friends and colleagues had shared their personal memories of Iain; school boy stories, work tales, practical jokes. His older brother, broken and out of sorts had cheered up momentarily to share memories of drunken exploits.

Ellie had left me reluctantly; returning to Connor only after I insisted that I needed some time alone after the clamour of the day. Gloria had called again and suggested I go on SL as 'some folk' wanted to pass on condolences. When I logged on, I was overcome by what I read. She had started a thread explaining my absence, and asking friends to be strong for me. There were over 100 posts that day and more followed through the weeks. I was overwhelmed with the love and support I received. Mickey had phoned and given me a total roasting for not having told him, then called back a wee while later asking if he had managed to 'completely fuck up' the best relationship he had ever had. I had laughed, and we then talked into the night. Afterwards, I thought how strange it would seem to anyone that my closest friends were two people I had never met, two people who had almost destroyed their own lives (literally in Mickeys case, with hard drugs more than drink). But I trusted these two friends with my life, with my secrets, with my fears and with my dreams in the way that only another addict could understand.

I looked out across the water as I reminisced; the early morning sun causing the clouds to blush. We had bought the house for the views, overlooking the Tay to Angus and the hills beyond, and down as far as the Estuary's end where the North Sea forced the tidal river to reverse direction. I had spent hours looking out of these windows, watching tankers arrive, low and full, seeing the same boats leaving on the next tide, toweringly high.

I had watched as clusters of tugs gathered to shepherd in the oil rigs which arrived periodically for repair. Depending on the wind and tide, some of these goliaths moved as majestically as a dowager duchess in a Victorian melodrama, chest forward expecting all to clear her path. Others emulated enthusiastic puppies, charging ahead and threatening to escape the leash. The jet skiers would frequently come out to risk hypothermia and jump the bow waves. In summer months we would occasionally be honoured with a display of aquatic acrobatics from the school of dolphins which annually put in appearance, for those fortunate enough to be looking in the right place at the right time.

We never clad the windows. Why would anyone want to close off the chance to see breathless sunrises and sunsets? To see swathes of rain, moving like a curtain across the water, hiding Angus from our eyes? To watch the waves chivvied into racing whitecaps by ferocious winds and breaking with spectacular force at the foundations of Broughty Ferry Castle? To look up at the stars and recognise our inconsequentiality in Life's scheme?

My phone pinged again, this time a message from Ellie. I thought for a moment and then dialled.

Hey sweetheart, I didn't expect you to be up, or I would have text you.

I couldn't sleep; I just wanted to check that you were sure you wanted to do this?

Completely unsure love, but I need to. I can't really explain it, I just need to get outside my own head for a while and be around people whose troubles are greater than mine.

I get that, I guess... Her tone was dubious. With her job, Ellie saw the worst of the worst, and she had become a little cynical about how much good this kind of project was in the long term.

Look on it as therapy for me sweetie, I took a breath, Ellie I said, as at the same time a Lou... came from her.

Me first? I asked, and into the short silence I finally spoke the thoughts which had filled me lately.

I'm sorry love. I am sorry I haven't been there for you lately, sorry I have just been up my own arse, and sorry that I have let your dad down by not looking out for his little girl. I took another quick breath and carried on You know you are my little girl too, I hope. And if I thought you had no one to turn to I would have been here for you more. I just... I couldn't... oh crap, please say you know what I'm trying to say!

A sob brought me up short Oh Lou, I was going to say the same! I am sorry too. I thought I was the one letting you down!

Ok, so we both made a bollocks of it, I laughed tearfully Shame they don't give out manuals. Sweetie, when I get back we will go for a coffee, just us, and then we will sort some time together. I miss Callum...and before you apologise I rode over another sob I could have visited you or asked to have him over any time. I am not trying to guilt you, I'm just saying its time I pulled myself life together and got back to some sort of normal. The weight in my heart lifted as I spoke, I felt things coming back into focus. I felt a future. We said happier goodbyes and promised to stay in touch better over the coming two weeks.

I let out a relieved breath, knowing that I had been foolish to have waited so long to sort things with Ellie. I had missed her, and Callum. The poor mite had lost his granddad; he didn't need to be missing his nanna too. I turned and whistled Misty and looked around one last time, wondering how I would feel in two weeks on my return. Although this was a big house, I had never felt lost in it.

I had spent many weeks alone when Iain had worked away, which he had done a lot due to the nature of his contract work. Sadly, I knew I would have to move soon, I couldn't afford to run it on my meagre salary, even with Iains insurance paying the mortgage. That was another thing. My boss had been great giving me time off, but I needed to seriously think about getting back to a routine. It was only a part time job; Iain had earned enough to allow me to work fewer hours and spend time at home working on the house and extensive gardens.

It would have to keep. I needed my head in the right place before I could even think about the upheaval of moving house, and I needed to decide whether to do that before or after going back to work. I hadn't even gone through Iains belongings; it had all seemed like too much effort up to now. Whatever the next two weeks would bring, I knew I had some serious thinking to do on my return.

Chapter Two

It was a short run to the station, and Gloria's train was on time. After much hugging, and making a fuss of Misty, we set off on the rest of the journey.

Gloria chattered away, not needing responses, I let her words flow over me, listening with half an ear as I drove. The roads were relatively clear; outside of the big cities, the traffic in Scotland never got particularly heavy. I had googled the journey several days earlier, choosing the most scenic route as we weren't in a great hurry. The adult volunteers were to arrive today for orientation. The children weren't due until tomorrow.

The camp is outside a small village in the highlands. It has been running for a few years, aimed at supporting children whose parents had drink and drug problems. They were usually referred through church, school, youth clubs, on line support sites and occasionally unofficially. In some instances Social Services were aware of the problems in the households; in others they had not as yet become involved.

The set up was based on similar camps run in America and Australia, and seemed to work well. The charity employed a guy called Cal to manage and oversee the day to day running of the camp, but it was staffed by volunteers. Those volunteers themselves would have a background of drink or drug issues, though having at least a year of recovery behind them. Cal believed it was vital that those of us around the kids had an understanding of what they were living with daily. The charity followed up applications with long telephone calls to assess our capabilities and our reasons for volunteering to do the work, they also arranged for us to obtain specific certificates necessary for the tasks that we would be in charge of. Once trained and accredited, volunteers often returned time and again. Gloria and I had taken online Health and Safety tests, and been put through a council run Food Hygiene course, and I held a valid First Aid certificate through my work. We also had to pay for Disclosure Certificates, which I was happy to do, as I appreciated the necessity to protect these kids from further potential harm.

I hoped to enjoy the experience, and to feel useful enough to return a few times a year. I admit I was a little overwhelmed at the thought of what I was getting into; I knew at first-hand how fragile the ego of an addict, or damaged child could be, and I was terrified that I could unknowingly worsen someones plight with a thoughtless word or deed. I thought about the people I had posted to on SL and recalled times I had gotten things wrong. I was so glad in the early days to have Gloria leading the way, gently reminding me that not everyone went about sobriety the same way that I did, and there was no 'right' or 'wrong', just what worked for each individual.

Glorias arrival at SL, I later found out, had been courtesy of a late night police car ride home, and a tearful final warning from her normally bluff, stoic husband Paddy. The next morning, she had been shocked to see a suitcase packed at the side of the bed and Paddy, hearing her throwing up in the bathroom wearily told her. Next time, I won't be letting you back in, I will be handing you that motioning at the suitcase and telling you to sling yer hook. You can't keep doing this to me and Jacques, it's not fair. That day she went on line and found SL.

I learned that Gloria had raised three strapping lads, and had then assumed she would be able to start taking life easy; working part time and knuckling down to some serious alcoholism. Until that is, son number three arrived home from abroad, showing all the signs of drug addiction with an equally drugged up wife and a 2 year old son in tow.

In short time, son and wife disappeared, leaving Gloria and Paddy to raise the child. Bringing up Jacques was difficult from the start; he had never been given boundaries, was not toilet trained and his limited speech was a mix of French and English. Gloria and Paddy had patiently taught him right from wrong, gave him love, security, discipline and a healthy diet. He had blossomed under their care.

Sober by that point, they were in the process of adopting him when I first 'met' Gloria online and she had been struggling with the stress of it all. This had been when I had begun texting her, supporting her through the home visits, the court appearances and the final decision to approve the adoption. Now two years sober she was returning to the joys and chores of motherhood at time she would normally have expected to sit back and take life easy. I was in awe of Glorias' attitude and energy.

So, anyway Cecily gets to take him back to France, for 2 weeks, staying at her parents and then Paddy will go across and fetch him home

How do you feel about her taking him? This would be the first time Jacques mother had been allowed to take him back to his native France; previously she had visited with him here in Britain. Initially Cecily had been against the adoption, and tried to regain custody herself, but her drug issues weren't behind her and she consistently refused to comply with court orders.

Nervous, but I know her better now. She knows she can't look after him, and she knows that she can see him whenever she wants as long as it doesn't disrupt his routines too much. To be honest Lou, she doesn't want him; she doesn't want the responsibility of him, not full time. This suits her. Plus I can Skype him I checked, there's Wi-Fi at the camp which we can access. She smiled ruefully. He will be fine, better than me anyway.

I reached across and held her hand. It was harder on her than she let on. She tightened her grip momentarily and then let go.

How about we find somewhere to let Misty have a run and see if we can get a bun or something? Lord only knows what they will be feeding us at this heathen outback she chuckled, regaining her spirits.

Well the kids will get gruel I imagine, and we will of course dine on grouse and venison nightly.

Mmm. Bambi, lovely!

We pulled into a tourist trap; similar places were dotted all over Scotland. Filled with overpriced tat and Scottish souvenirs, (most of which were made in China) whisky tasting, tartan and CDs of Celtic music. All to tempt the unsuspecting tourists to part with their hard earned cash. In the restaurant, the ubiquitous haggis, neaps and tatties would be on the menu. After letting Misty do her business and tying her outside where I could see her sweet face, we grabbed a sandwich and a coffee, Glorias accompanied by a slice of carrot cake. Piped folk music floated round us as we chattered about the camp.

I spoke to Cal last night, Gloria said. Cal was still something of an enigma; there is little on the website of his background, but he has a strong ethos in that he fully believed that with the right kind of support, some bonding exercises and plenty of encouragement, these kids may just find that there is a whole world out there that doesn't revolve around drink and drugs. I was in awe of his methods and, and having emailed and spoken with him on several occasions, I knew he was something of a force of nature. His gruff personality intimidated me, and I was a little scared of doing something wrong, as I felt he would not hold back in his criticism.

I take it everything is ok? No last minute problems?

Not as far as I know. A last minute addition to the volunteer staff, some guy from Glasgow.

Great. I muttered, memories of my ex-husband flit through my mind. Of course, it wouldn't be him, he had drunk himself to death two years previously, but I suspected the type.

You never know might be a bit of eye candy! Gloria twinkled. Her Paddy was a typical northern male of his generation, slow to emote and more concerned with the standards of players in the English Premiership than in caring about how he looked. Gloria, more lively and outgoing, gleefully admitting she watched football with him merely for the 'sex on legs' aspect of it and happily owned up to a little mental editing during their infrequent coupling. I'm sure he does too! she had firmly stated when I complained about altogether too much information.

I am so not interested Gloria, if he's a looker he will know it, but let face it, he's bound to be more 'Rab C Nesbitt' than Ewan McGregor.

Well, I suppose this scenery will have to suffice then. Gloria grinned as she looked about. Following her eyes I saw that the mountains in the distance still bore a trace of winter snow; closer, the gentle slopes of the hills wore greens of every shade, threaded with seams of brown where run off had eroded through the thin top soil. Looking closely it was possible to see the moving dots of hikers enjoying the spring sunshine and the sudden movement of a white blob, indicating a skittish sheep getting out of harms way. At this time of the year, the deer had headed back up to the high ground. Even when they were at low levels they were so well camouflaged that you needed to see them move to know that they were there.

I loved my adopted land. Whatever happened regarding our house, I could not envisage ever living anywhere but Scotland. It was in my blood, reaching to a deep primal part of my nature which I hadn't known existed until my first visit to Glencoe. Tears had slid down my face unheeded then, as Iain had driven through the intimidating mountain range. I had felt a magnetic tug on my emotions far and above what I was actually seeing. Countless visits later, I still felt the pull of the ancient landscape, calling to my soul. I'm not sure if I believe in reincarnation or genetic memory- I knew I had some Scottish ancestry- but what I do know was that a part of me, from that first time, felt it had come home.

This trip would not be taking us so far west, but the scenery was just as awe inspiring in the Cairngorm range.

'c'mon said Gloria dusting crumbs from her hands. Looks like Misty is in danger of being dognapped Turning, I saw my sweet Border collie being petted by two pigtailed young girls. She was smiling at them, tail happily sweeping the ground behind her. I could not begin to conceive how I would have gotten through the last 6 months without her. Her loving, placid nature and her constant affection had reached me in the depths of my despair time and again. Having to exercise her on those early dark mornings forced me from my bed where, without her needs, I would otherwise have remained all day.

Untying her, we walked back to the car to complete the journey. For the last few miles, Gloria steered me by Cals emailed directions. Turning the final bend of the steep track, the camp opened up in front of us. A cluster of log cabins of varying sizes squatted comfortably in a cleared area, to one side of which, several large logs surrounded a fire pit.

Chapter Three

At the sound of our engine approaching, a door opened and a tall muscular man motioned us to drive round the back of a nearby cabin.

Seen worse grinned Gloria

Shush! I said as I turned the engine off. You are incorrigible!

Huh, Like you didn't think it! she twinkled at me. I was still laughing as I stretched and then opened the back to let Misty out. She stood in front of me cautiously, until I smoothed her head and told her it was ok, at