Chapter Twenty
Edward seems distracted when I arrive for our fourth session, and I try not to take it personally.
I’m starting to really think these sessions could help me, and I want to talk about the stuff Jools said at lunch this weekend.
I want to talk more about my family, too, and the correlation I’ve noticed with my anger.
We take a seat, and he smiles brightly. ‘So, Olivia, we’ve talked a bit about why anger is important and where it comes from, so I think, in this session, we should focus on productive ways to express instead of repress.
’ He pauses. ‘I think we both agree having an outright explosion in a TGI Friday’s isn’t the healthiest way to go about it. ’
‘Effective though,’ I mutter, and he smiles like he can’t help it. I wonder if he always used to smile this much or if it’s just me having an effect on him. I’ve never thought of Edward as someone who smiles much, but he should. It’s a really great smile. Almost as good as the hair.
‘We want to practise assertiveness without aggression,’ he adds and I make another joke.
‘No screaming for tiramisu then?’
His mouth twitches. ‘Ideally not. But feel free to have as much tiramisu in your fridge at home as you can cope with.’
‘Sam’s had the fridge packed with the stuff ever since I went viral.’ I roll my eyes. ‘She thinks it’s the funniest joke ever. I tried to get my revenge by buying loads of Scotch eggs – she hates eggs – but there wasn’t room in the fridge. We don’t even have space for a tub of Country Life.’
He covers his mouth. ‘That is funny.’
Huh. Edward finds me funny, how strange. Or maybe it’s Sam he finds funny? But either way, he definitely has a sense of humour under all that calm, double breasted suit-ness.
‘Tiramisu aside, I’ve had clients who found it cathartic to practise martial arts,’ he continues, ‘or – if that’s too much – others try punching pillows.
We could try scream therapy, or swearing at the bathroom mirror.
I had one client who would go to a lake and throw pebbles as hard as she could, all the while calling the water a cunt over and over. ’
It is so shocking, and so hot hearing him say that bad word. That word only women are allowed to use because we’re the ones who’ve had it used against us for so long.
‘Does any of that appeal?’ he asks, and I think about how nice it would feel to scream that word over and over. And over and over and over. How freeing it would feel to make a fist and fully punch something soft and yielding.
‘It’s worth trying a few things, to see what might work for—’ His words are cut off by the ringing of a phone. It’s not mine, I made sure I silenced it outside, before I even entered the building. In front of me, Edward pales.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmurs, moving from his seat.
‘It’s fine!’ I say, though I secretly feel very smug. It’s a cardinal sin for therapists to have their devices go off during a session. What if I’d been in the midst of a big weep about my abandoning parents? I guess Edward isn’t such a perfect therapist after all—
Oh. He looks super freaked out, actually. He’s staring at his phone, half frozen with apparent indecision.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Answer it if you need to. Edward, really.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbles the apology this time. ‘My mum hasn’t been very well lately, and I told my brother to only ring if something serious happened. It’s him calling now.’
‘Answer it,’ I say earnestly, and after another second, he does.
‘Jake?’ he says into the receiver, and I shift anxiously in my seat.
I should probably leave. I’m sure he doesn’t want me listening into his calls, especially when it comes to something so personal like this.
I don’t move. From the phone I can just about make out a male voice on the line, speaking with urgency.
Edward nods at something, then speaks in a soft tone. ‘I’ll come right away.’
He doesn’t say goodbye, he just hangs up and looks at me with confusion. ‘I’m so sorry, Olivia, I have to cut our session short, I—’
‘Don’t apologise.’ I stand up fast, grabbing for my bag. ‘I get it.’ Should I pry? I can’t tell what the right thing to do is. ‘Are you okay?’
He shakes his head, looking at the room around him like he doesn’t know where he is. ‘They’ve called an ambulance, they think Mum might’ve had a stroke. They’re waiting on paramedics right now.’
I inhale a deep, shocked breath. ‘That’s horrendous.
I’m so sorry, Edward…’ I am lost. I want to help but don’t know what to do.
‘Can I help? Do anything?’ He looks at me again, his expression foggy, but shakes his head after a moment.
He stares down at his phone, checking something.
His fingers are shaking; it’s clear he’s really scared. My heart hurts for him.
‘Damn,’ he murmurs, and I step forward minutely.
‘What?’
‘The trains…’ He looks flustered. ‘They’re delayed, there’s a shortage of crew and…’
I step forward again. ‘I know, I drove in today because of the problems, so I have my car outside. Can I drive you?’
He stares at me a little blankly and then shakes his head. ‘No, Olivia, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s nearly three hours, I can’t… I don’t—’
I take another step; a bigger one this time. ‘I’m driving you.’ I make sure it’s not a question this time and he slowly nods.
‘Okay, would you mind? Thank you.’
I pick up his coat for him, helping him into it. He suddenly seems so intensely vulnerable. I feel the reversal of roles keenly and fight an urge to gather him up into me for a hug.
We don’t say much as I lead him to my car, and we take off across London in the direction of the M4. Beside me in the passenger seat, I can feel he’s trying to gather himself.
‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ he says at last, finding his voice.
I nod.
‘My brother Jake is a catastrophiser,’ he continues. ‘She’s probably just got a headache or something.’
I nod again, pulling up at some traffic lights and mentally urging them to hurry up and change.
‘They say the first few hours are key, don’t they?
’ he says, and I nod yet again. ‘Maybe I’ll just text to see if the ambulance has turned up yet.
’ He adds this casually, but I catch his hands still trembling a little in his lap as he types.
‘You hear all these horror stories about the NHS these days, don’t you?
About people waiting hours for an ambulance to show up and then they don’t come at all. ’
‘It’ll come,’ I say with confidence, feeling none of it.
We sit in silence for a few minutes as he stares down at his phone, waiting for a reply.
Beside me, Edward suddenly breathes out. ‘Jake says a first responder is on his way. They’ll be there in the next hour to assess her.’
‘That’s good,’ I say decisively. ‘They’ll know what to do.
’ I check the satnav, still two hours to go.
Please let his mum be okay. I reach over to pat his arm.
‘We’ll be there before you know it,’ I tell him, sneaking a glance across at my therapist. ‘Just hold on, Edward. Hold on for a bit longer.’
He nods, as we make eye contact. And then he reaches for his seatbelt, cutting across his chest, and he literally holds on.