Chapter 44.
‘So I suppose,’ I say, looking around the counsellor’s office, ‘that’s why I’m here. I was hoping you might be able to help me... prove myself to Ash. I’d like to persuade him I’m not going mad.’
Meena appears unruffled, like people say this kind of thing to her all the time. ‘And how would you define “mad”, Neve?’
‘Someone... who no longer has a grip on reality.’
For the past half hour, I’ve been telling her about Ash being Jamie, barely breaking for breath, and now my head feels like fog, my mouth tacky from talking.
I survey the room we’re in on the top floor of an ancient narrow building in the city centre. It’s calming and quite olde worlde, with creaking floorboards, sloping walls and lattice-paned windows. But I’m sitting in a chair which bounces disconcertingly whenever I move. It inclines naturally backwards, and would, I suspect, take some effort to climb out of. So I couldn’t make a quick getaway, even if I wanted to.
Still. The room is quiet, and the walls are thick, which means I don’t have to worry about being overheard.
‘Is there anyone else who you think believes you’re “mad”, Neve?’
Meena is slightly built, with hair pulled into a French plait. She has very large eyes that are affecting as searchlights. Somehow, they make me want to confess all my secrets.
‘Well, Ash, obviously. And his parents. And my mum. And probably Lara too. But there’s just no other explanation for all these coincidences. The similarities. And only I can see it.’
There is a short silence. Meena taps the edge of her notebook with her pen. ‘Neve, have you ever heard of something called confirmation bias?’
I nod. My hands are folded in my lap, like I’m being interviewed. ‘It’s where you look for evidence to prove your theory about something.’
She nods back. ‘I wonder if this may be your coping strategy, Neve. Instead of confronting your grief and working through it – which may feel too overwhelming – you’re looking for ways to avoid it. For it not to be real. For Jamie to still be alive. Does that make sense?’
‘It would, if you could explain all the similarities and coincidences and million ways in which Ash is Jamie. I haven’t invented them. They’re right there, in front of me.’
‘But is Ash Jamie,’ she says, carefully, ‘or have you perhaps have fallen in love with someone who closely resembles Jamie, who’s helping to ease your grief?’
‘No,’ I insist. ‘I lost Jamie nearly ten whole years ago. I don’t need to ease it, not now. Ash appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t as if I was looking for him. I’d actually stopped... thinking about Jamie, pretty much, before I met Ash.’
Meena shifts in her chair. The floorboards creak slightly. ‘But would you say you ever came to terms with Jamie’s death? Did you fully grieve him?’
I think back to the dark, cyclonic aftermath of the accident. Cutting Lara off. Jamie’s family refusing to let me attend the funeral. His dad coming to the house, and taking his stuff. Thieving it, really.
It had always felt easier to blame Lara for what was happening than to focus on the pain of losing Jamie.
‘Maybe not. I don’t know.’
‘And the miscarriage,’ she says gently. ‘That’s grief as well. No less painful. No less valid. Did you ever talk to anyone about that?’
I talked to Jamie, of course, but then he was gone. And soon afterwards, Lara was gone, too. ‘A bit. Not much.’
‘Neve, what’s been happening with you and Ash indicates to me that you never fully worked through all these very complicated and intense emotions.’
I feel my body bristle. ‘But this is all missing the point. Why did Ash suddenly want to become an architect, after his accident? Why does he live in the exact apartment that Jamie was hoping to live in? Why did Ash take me to Amsterdam? Why does he kiss me just like Jamie did? Which I feel bad about saying, by the way, but it’s true. Why did Ash’s family tell me he was like a different person after the lightning strike? Why does he love the exact same music, artists, coffee, aftershave? Why is Ash and Jamie’s handwriting exactly the same? If you can explain any of that, then maybe I can accept that Ash... isn’t Jamie. But you can’t. You can’t explain it, because Ash is the person Jamie was meant to become .’
Meena waits for a long time before answering. But when she does, it’s to offer up precisely none of the rationale I’m hoping for. ‘Is it also worth considering that if Jamie was alive today, he might in fact be nothing at all like the man you knew nearly a decade ago?’
I stare at her. ‘No. I mean, he would be. That’s what I’m telling you: Ash is who Jamie was going to become.’
‘Or maybe you wouldn’t recognise him at all.’
‘Of course I would.’
She challenges this with a suggestive shrug, a momentary pout of disagreement. ‘Maybe not. People change. Maybe if you met Jamie Fraser today, and the two of you went for a drink together, you might think you had nothing in common at all any more. Maybe, for example, Jamie wouldn’t have become an architect.’
‘He loved architecture,’ I say fiercely. ‘It was all he ever wanted to do.’
She presses her lips together, sets down her notebook, steeples her fingers. ‘Okay. But let’s just... explore an alternative reality for a moment, shall we?’
Even though I really don’t want to, I nod, because I suppose this is what I’m paying her for.
‘Come with me on this, Neve.’ Her expression is thoughtful. ‘So let’s say, just as an example... Jamie dropped out of his master’s degree. Maybe he was getting fed up of studying, and all his friends had already started earning money, so he decided to get a job at... one of the big investment banks.’
Never would have happened , says the voice in my head, but I don’t interrupt her. Defiance and curiosity are playing tug-of-war in my stomach, and right now, the latter has the edge.
‘And let’s say... he’s made some new friends at this bank, and he decides he’s really into what they’re into, which is... swish bars and driving nice cars and going to the gym, for example. And perhaps European city breaks no longer really do it for him, and he’s into... skiing holidays instead. And he doesn’t read much these days, especially not books about architecture, and the Edward Hopper painting is no more significant to him than... a one-time gift from his grandmother. Maybe it’s even gathering dust in an attic or cupboard somewhere. And he’s now into... opera music, and coffee gives him migraines, and he can’t remember the last time he cooked. In fact, he’s decided he loathes cooking.’ She pauses, fixing me again with those heat-seeking eyes of hers. ‘I’m obviously playing with stereotypes, here, Neve – but do you get my point?’
I sit very still for a long time, staring at the rug beneath my feet. I knot my fingers as I force myself – really push myself – to at least try to see where she’s coming from. ‘I think so,’ I say, eventually.
‘You believe that Ash is who Jamie was meant to become. But the reality is, you’ve no way at all of knowing who Jamie would have grown up to be. If you were to meet him today, there’s a chance you might not even recognise him.’
‘But Ash’s accident,’ I say. ‘It happened at exactly the same time as Jamie’s, just a street away. And after that, Ash completely changed. How can that be coincidence too?’
‘People can change drastically, after major life events. I would say that was entirely normal, Neve. It still doesn’t mean Ash is Jamie. Remember confirmation bias?’
‘So, I guess you’re not going to argue my case to Ash for me?’
She shoots me a kind smile. ‘I’ve got a suggestion that I think is even better. I want to see you next week, and I’d like you to spend the time between now and then making a list of all the ways in which Ash is different to Jamie. Okay?’
‘That’ll be a short list, but okay. I’ll try.’
Our time is up. I gather my bag and coat and haul myself out of the chair to leave.
‘Neve?’ Meena says, as I’m heading to the door.
‘Yes?’
‘When the human body is struck by lightning, it takes an unbelievable hit. Did you know that a lightning strike can contain millions of volts?’
I nod, because of course I knew that. Well, not exactly , but everyone understands that lightning equals serious voltage.
‘Many people don’t survive lightning strikes. But if they do, their internal circuitry will most likely be a bit jumbled up. It makes sense that something that forceful will alter you on some level, if you get in its way. Ash is undoubtedly lucky he didn’t die. But I would suggest that there’s nothing mystical about that. No more than... weather itself. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of mystical. It’s science. So it’s worth considering there’s nothing strange at all about the fact Ash was a different person before and after surviving such a huge event.’
‘How do you know all this?’ I ask, even though I get that you’re supposed to pretend your counsellor’s part robot and doesn’t have a personal perspective on anything.
But Meena doesn’t seem too bothered. ‘Actually, I trained as a meteorologist. So I know a bit about physics and weather. But as I grew older, I decided that wasn’t my calling. Not that you’d have known it, when I was eighteen. I’d always been determined to work for the Met Office. It was all I used to talk about.’
I meet her eye and smile. ‘Okay.’
‘Like I said. People can change, Neve.’
I nod, but say nothing further.
‘Get working on that list of differences, okay?’
‘All right,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll try.’