My Inebrious Friend

We all enjoy a drink. I most certainly do. I sometimes joke that a certain spirit runs heartily through my veins. Jesting aside, I am seldom, if ever, blotto.

I have a dear friend and, for the sake of discretion I'll call her Vee. We've known each other since childhood. Vee has always been vulnerable, despite having held down a job as a public servant for many years. She started drinking white wine; you know, the cheap stuff like anti-freeze or whatever. She became addicted and it has been a downward spiral ever since.

She fell into bad company whilst living in a flat, and among her circle of acquaintances met a person called John. Bad move. He hits her occasionally.They live together now and have moved house about half a dozen times. Vee is no proud house-keeper; if you've ever watched programmes like How Clean Is Your House, or had the misfortune to be burgled you'll know the ransacked state your property is left in. Vee's homes are like that.

She phones me a few times a week, so we keep in touch. Sometimes she is incoherently drunk; other times she's fine, like Jekyll and Hyde. We haven't been out socially for many years. Vee has even dabbled in prostitution. And here's the thing: Vee is one of the nicest, most caring and generous people I know. I've tried to persuade her to move back home with her mother, but she says they don't get along. Vee is forty-eight years old now, and I'm concerned that her health will deteriorate due to her lifestyle. We spoke yesterday and she was totally sozzled. She tells me that her partner's sister has demanded that Vee vacates the house she's living in presently (Vee doesn't own the house or rent it). I really do not know where it will all lead.

I've booked a taxi for tomorrow morning at three forty. All will be revealed!