been crazy to hope that Amber would understand. No one could. ‘Well, anything that had calories. She lived on apples. Then pineapples because she’d read they broke down the fat she didn’t have. Not bananas. And not one ounce of flour or butter or pasta or anything else. She got so thin it was painful.’ Nick swallowed the lump that was blocking his throat, threatening to stop him breathing. ‘She was tired all the time but wouldn’t see the doctor. I’d make appointments for her but she refused to go. Then I’d find her in the kitchen in the middle of the night, cramming food into her mouth so it dribbled down her chin. After that I’d hear her retching in the loo. The bulimic stage lasted only three months. Then she stopped eating. Well, anything of substance.’ His voice wobbled. ‘She lost three stone in six months.’
‘So that’s why you think you killed her?’ Amber’s voice was flat. Like a weather report.
Nick stared at her. ‘I put the idea into her head. And now I’m terrified in case Julie finds out exactly how her mother died and stops eating too.’
‘What do you mean, “how she died”? What happened?’
Nick tried to talk but the words wouldn’t come out. Amber spoke again: ‘Why does it scare you that Julie might find out?’
Nick stood up, almost knocking over his chair. ‘Because she didn’t know her mother had anorexia – I said she died of cancer because I was scared Julie would stop eating. Look, Amber, I’m sorry but this isn’t working. You don’t understand and you’re driving me crazy with your rubbish about giving me gifts and saying, “Why?” all the time. Juliana is dead and it’s my fault. And nothing you can sodding say is going to help me accept that.’
He strode to the door and turned. Amber looked shocked and, for a second, he was pleased. ‘Don’t you want to finish your session?’ she asked, almost like a child with the Alice band that was too young for her middle-aged, frown-dented forehead.
‘What does it look like? Frankly, Amber, as a counsellor you’re hopeless. In fact, I’d say you were in the wrong job.’
He slammed the door and walked down the stairs, out into the daylight and back to normality. Had he been too hard on her? Maybe. But it was true: she had been hopeless in that she had made him feel worse about this whole bloody mess instead of helping him reach his own conclusions, as counselling was meant to do.
For a few minutes, Nick walked up and down the high street, trying to regain his composure. All around him, there were normal people. A woman with a pushchair and a waist so wide it wobbled under her shapeless skirt, but who, judging from the way she was smiling at her child, didn’t seem worried about her appearance. A young couple, arms entwined, who almost walked into him. A scruffy woman in a pink coat, who handed him a leaflet that he folded and put into his pocket. If he had had more patience with Juliana, if he had taken the time to make her feel better about herself, he might have been walking down this street with her now.
It was only the realisation that his parking ticket would soon expire that made him return to the car. Miserably, he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his car keys. His hands felt the phone, bigger and bulkier than his own, which he must have put it into his pocket when he was helping Harriet with her bag. He could turn it on to see if he could find her home number, but that seemed like an invasion of privacy. Slowly he put it back into his pocket. With any luck, he’d see her tomorrow on the school run and be able to give it back.
11
EVIE
‘. . . and the siege in Ohio continues. It’s eight forty a.m.
According to a new survey, families spend more on travel costs than on food or entertainment. The average adult forks out sixty pounds a week on petrol or public transport . . .’
Interesting. Evie made a note on her iPhone as she revved the engine on the
‘So that’s why you think you killed her?’ Amber’s voice was flat. Like a weather report.
Nick stared at her. ‘I put the idea into her head. And now I’m terrified in case Julie finds out exactly how her mother died and stops eating too.’
‘What do you mean, “how she died”? What happened?’
Nick tried to talk but the words wouldn’t come out. Amber spoke again: ‘Why does it scare you that Julie might find out?’
Nick stood up, almost knocking over his chair. ‘Because she didn’t know her mother had anorexia – I said she died of cancer because I was scared Julie would stop eating. Look, Amber, I’m sorry but this isn’t working. You don’t understand and you’re driving me crazy with your rubbish about giving me gifts and saying, “Why?” all the time. Juliana is dead and it’s my fault. And nothing you can sodding say is going to help me accept that.’
He strode to the door and turned. Amber looked shocked and, for a second, he was pleased. ‘Don’t you want to finish your session?’ she asked, almost like a child with the Alice band that was too young for her middle-aged, frown-dented forehead.
‘What does it look like? Frankly, Amber, as a counsellor you’re hopeless. In fact, I’d say you were in the wrong job.’
He slammed the door and walked down the stairs, out into the daylight and back to normality. Had he been too hard on her? Maybe. But it was true: she had been hopeless in that she had made him feel worse about this whole bloody mess instead of helping him reach his own conclusions, as counselling was meant to do.
For a few minutes, Nick walked up and down the high street, trying to regain his composure. All around him, there were normal people. A woman with a pushchair and a waist so wide it wobbled under her shapeless skirt, but who, judging from the way she was smiling at her child, didn’t seem worried about her appearance. A young couple, arms entwined, who almost walked into him. A scruffy woman in a pink coat, who handed him a leaflet that he folded and put into his pocket. If he had had more patience with Juliana, if he had taken the time to make her feel better about herself, he might have been walking down this street with her now.
It was only the realisation that his parking ticket would soon expire that made him return to the car. Miserably, he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his car keys. His hands felt the phone, bigger and bulkier than his own, which he must have put it into his pocket when he was helping Harriet with her bag. He could turn it on to see if he could find her home number, but that seemed like an invasion of privacy. Slowly he put it back into his pocket. With any luck, he’d see her tomorrow on the school run and be able to give it back.
11
EVIE
‘. . . and the siege in Ohio continues. It’s eight forty a.m.
According to a new survey, families spend more on travel costs than on food or entertainment. The average adult forks out sixty pounds a week on petrol or public transport . . .’
Interesting. Evie made a note on her iPhone as she revved the engine on the
Similar Books
