She pauses in the hallway, the cold air still blowing through the door. It looks like she’s tried to tidy up but ran out of time. There’s a pile of shoes pushed into the corner next to the shoe rack, and a messy collection of post, packages and small toys on a little table by the door.
‘You’re here for marriage counselling,’ she says gently. Her voice has a soothing lilt, and I realise how easy it would be to fall under her spell, to immediately tell her everything.
‘Yes.’ I nod.
I notice the hairbrush strewn messily on top of the shoe rack, under the mirror, as if brushing her hair might be something she’d forget to do if it wasn’t there.
‘You mentioned your husband on the phone. Is he on his way?’
‘No.’ I look down at the floor, studying the dry mud on the mat in her hallway. It’s days since it rained; the mud must have been here a while. ‘He couldn’t make it today. I hope he’ll come next time.’
‘No problem.’ She puts her hand gently on my shoulder, a gesture that’s almost motherly. My body tenses and I fight the urge to shake her hand off me. ‘Let me take your coat and then we can go upstairs. How was your journey over? Did you have far to come?’
‘Not far. I know the area.’ I’d got here early and sat in my car for half an hour, staring up at the house, wondering if I would be brave enough for the therapy ahead.
I feel sick as I walk through her hallway to the staircase. There are children’s wellington boots, next to a blue scooter. Crayon marks on the wall. The doors to the downstairs rooms are shut and I feel a desire to push them open, to peer in at the life behind them.
When we get upstairs, she leads me to a small, cosy room at the front of the house. Its pale green walls are punctuated by floating shelves full of self-help books. I study the spines, wondering if any of them have been read or if they’re just for show. There’s a sofa near the door and a chair and a desk opposite. A tissue box sits next to a candle on a coffee table in the centre of the room, its gentle flame flickering. I take a deep breath, absorbing the smell of lavender that scents the room. There’s nowhere to hide. A part of me wants to run straight out.
‘It’s always hard the first time,’ Beth says, reading my mind. ‘Finding the courage to come.’
I nod. ‘Thanks.’
‘Take a seat.’ Beth indicates the sofa. ‘It’s comfier than it looks.’
I lower myself onto the sofa and perch on the edge, back straight.
Beth sits down in the chair opposite, her long floaty skirt lifting and then settling.
We look at each other for a second and I smile nervously.
‘So, Danielle, have you had counselling before?’
‘Some…’ I admit. ‘A long time ago.’
‘A long time ago?’
I don’t want to talk about it now. I’m not ready. ‘It wasn’t particularly useful,’ I say.
She waits for me to carry on, but I stare resolutely at the books behind her.
‘OK, then. I find it helpful to run through a bit about therapy before we start, so we’re both clear on what these sessions are for and what they are not for.’
I nod.
‘As a therapist, I act as a sounding board for my clients, helping them hear their inner voice. I’m not here to provide guidance or tell you what to do. Rather, I’m here to help you work out what you want to do.’
Her voice washes over me, a voice so like my mother’s. I close my eyes for a second, remembering. But I can’t go back there. Not yet.
‘OK.’
‘All the sessions are confidential, but in some extreme circumstances, if I thought someone was in danger, I might have reason to break confidentiality.’
I frown. I’d thought that whatever I said would just be between me and her. I’m relying on it. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask. ‘What kind of danger?’
‘If I thought that you were at risk of harm from yourself or someone else, then I’d have to act.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘What do you mean by act?’
‘It would depend on the situation, but if someone was in danger, I’d have to take it further.’
I stare at the floor, thinking about what I can say and what I can’t say. How much I can share without consequences.
‘What’s on your mind?’ Beth asks.
‘I’m just thinking about what you said,’ I say carefully. ‘I’m a lawyer, I guess I like to know the details of how everything works.’
‘Well, if there’s anything else you’d like to know, then you can ask. Now, or at any time later.’
‘Thank you.’
She smiles warmly. ‘So, when you’re ready, can you tell me what’s brought you here today?’
‘It’s my marriage.’ I put my hands to the scars on my face, feeling their jagged edges.
‘Your marriage?’
‘I’m sorry Peter’s not here with me. I really hoped he’d come. He said he’s caught up at work…’ I pause, looking up at her. ‘Would it be better to come back another day? When he’s here too?’
She looks at me directly, her eyes meeting mine. ‘Would you prefer that?’
I shake my head. ‘No.’ I want to get started.
‘You look anxious.’
‘I suppose I am.’ It unnerves me being in this room with her, her gaze constantly on me. Watching me. Analysing me. I suddenly notice that the door is slightly ajar.
Beth’s gaze follows mine. ‘There’s no one else out there,’ she says. ‘Except my son, but he’s asleep.’ She smiles. I imagine an innocent little boy, tucked up in bed. My heart aches.
‘Can we shut it anyway?’ I’m so on edge that I can’t seem to get a grip on my own thoughts.
I see Beth hesitate, but then she goes to the door, peers into the corridor and then shuts it gently. As she does, I notice a ketchup stain on the elbow of her blouse, dry and hard like an old splatter of blood. She sits back down.
‘You were saying you were here about your marriage…’
‘Yes… it feels like it’s falling apart. We hardly see each other. We both work such long hours.’
‘You’re a lawyer, you said?’
‘Yes, I work for a corporate law firm and do charity work on the side.’ I feel myself start to relax. Law is easy to talk about.
‘Charity work?’
‘That’s the bit I enjoy the most. I volunteer for a company which helps vulnerable people appeal wrongful convictions. I went into law because I wanted to help people, but in my corporate job I help companies, not people.’
‘You take pleasure in helping people?’
‘Yes, I actually thought about becoming a counsellor for a while. When I was really hating being a lawyer. But I realised that I didn’t need to switch paths entirely. I could put more effort into the clients I volunteer with to give something back. At the moment I’m helping a care worker who’s been convicted of Actual Bodily Harm for restraining a patient who was trying to attack him. We believe he should never have been convicted.’
She nods encouragingly.
‘I want to help the people who need it most, the most vulnerable. Without help they’d really struggle.’