Physically, I had dropped my daughter off, mentally, I had not.
I came home to breakfast. Husband and I ate in silence.
We were due to fly abroad the next day, neither us had the heart, the stomach for a holiday.
We had the all singing, all dancing, insurance policy–I telephoned the broker.
No. We were not covered for this eventuality: our daughter losing her mind.
‘That’s that then,’ I said to Husband, ‘money down the grid.’
‘I think its drugs.’
‘What’s drugs? What are you talking about?’
‘Bella, she’s on drugs.’
‘No. No.’ I could not get my head around what he was saying. I had no knowledge of drug abuse. I was naive to how widespread their use was. ‘No, she isn’t.’
‘I’m telling you she is. That behaviour last night did not come out of a wine bottle, she is on drugs.’
I had no concept of how she would get drugs, pay for drugs, use drugs. I had no idea what drugs they would be, or the effect they had.
‘No. You’re wrong, not drugs.’ I said.
‘What did the insurance say about the holiday, can we cancel?’ Husband changed the subject he could see he was upsetting me.
‘We can cancel, but they’ll not refund the cost.’
‘Pack the bags, we’re going.’
