‘But mentally, about fifty miles south of Botswana?’
I expect a smile but it doesn’t come. ‘You’re far too hard on yourself, Cat. You were distracted, that’s all I meant. Distant.’
‘Distant and over-empathetic? Is that even possible?’
‘Very much so. Most people’s personalities are a mess of contradictions. It’s rarely a case of being A or B.’
Don’t I just know it.
‘So what’s the “benchmark of progress” on the empathy front, Dr Allen? Do I have to prove I’ve become a cold-hearted bitch before you’ll sign me off?’
Snarky comments aren’t a ‘benchmark of progress’ either but she allows it. One for the road, hey?
‘There’s nothing wrong with empathy per se, Cat, but it’s all about levels. And too much empathy in the job you do can be debilitating. It’s very difficult to make rational decisions when you are literally feeling somebody else’s pain. Now, compassion .?.?.’ She tilts her head the other way. ‘Compassion is another thing entirely. It’s possible to feel compassion for someone without it overwhelming your circuits.’ She glances at the clock, two minutes and counting. ‘But I’d say you’ve made progress there too. DCI Steele tells me you played a key role in your latest case, and I believe that wasn’t an easy one either?’
The praise makes me nauseous, I shrug it away quickly. ‘It was straightforward enough. We got guilty pleas so we’re just waiting on sentencing, and the medical reports for the old guy. He should get sent down though. Fuck him and his illness. Very few people deserve lung cancer, Dr Allen, but he’s definitely one of them .?.?.’
Dr Allen gives me her Mona Lisa smile. The elusive one. The one that’s annoyingly impartial. I think about practising it in the mirror tonight, I reckon it must come in handy.
‘Well, that’s about it,’ she says eventually, not quite standing up but bracing herself to. ‘We’ll have follow-up sessions every six weeks and of course you know where I am in the meantime.’ A slight pause. ‘But is there anything else you wanted to say, or ask, today?’
I think about this. ‘I suppose there is one thing.’ She picks up the humour in my voice, responds with a pre-emptive smile. ‘If it’s rarely a case that you’re either A or B, does that mean I can be a spontaneous sexy maverick and a slave to routine?’
She laughs. ‘Absolutely. Although, don’t judge routine too harshly, Cat. It gets a bad press in today’s adrenaline-fuelled society, but it provides a level of safety, a level of reassurance. It’s OK to crave routine. Most people do, if they’re honest.’
‘I don’t crave it,’ I say, a little snarky again. Two for the road. ‘I just need some personal time and Murder doesn’t leave room for much else.’
The routine for the foreseeable future, as stipulated by Jacqui, self-appointed chief mediator, is for me to have dinner at her house, ‘Six p.m. sharp, not a minute later’ a couple of times a week.
With Dad there.
Although no Noel, thank God. Noel’s back in Fuengirola, pulling pints in low-rent strip-clubs again and paying off whatever gambling or drug debt Dad bailed him out of.
We’ve only had two summits so far but Jacqui’s been in her element, presiding over anodyne conversations about loft extensions and Finn’s prowess on the football field, while feeding us home-cooked stews and hearty roast dinners. The kind of food that’s supposed to say ‘family’, I think.
Restorative food.
Healing straight out of a packet.
Truth is, the healing tends to start when Jacqui’s not there, when she’s clearing up in the kitchen or holding sleep-time negotiations with Finn. That’s when Dad and I sit in silence – a strained but strangely peaceful silence – watching the TV, laughing or tutting at the same things.
Always the same things.
And in any case, Jacqui needn’t worry. Dad and I are bonded for life now in a way we weren’t before.
Because I’m not just the keeper of his secrets anymore. He’s the keeper of mine.
Note from Richard & Judy
One of the biggest pleasures the two of us get out of our book club is the thrill of discovering a brand-new talent: a debut writer who hits the ground running with their first novel. Putting them on our list of recommended reads is a wonderful opportunity for them, and we take huge satisfaction watching them spread their wings as writers and start notching up those bestsellers.
We launched the book club with WH Smith in September 2010, and more recently introduced the hugely popular Search for a Bestseller competition; it gives us another opportunity to discover new talent. So we are absolutely delighted to be a part of the launch of Caz Frear’s writing career. Her novel was chosen from an incredibly strong shortlist, but we felt Caz’s compelling storytelling to be in a class of its own.
We began writing our own novels comparatively recently so know only too well how solitary a business it can be. That’s where the wider writing community can be so supportive and nourishing, and the book club and this competition is very much a part of that as a forum for aspiring new writers. Twitter, Facebook and online communities also help writers feel less isolated as they lock themselves away with a blank screen and a head full of ideas – or on some wretched days, if we’re honest, a head as blank as the screen before it.
The other simple pleasure we get from our book club is the chance to spread the word about new stories that we have personally relished reading. It’s terrific when a stranger comes up to us and thanks us for recommending a novel that they, too, have fallen in love with. Seeing that kind of impact that reading can have on people is deeply satisfying. The power of the written word cannot be overestimated – a great book can quite literally change lives – and writers gain tremendous confidence when they realise their words have reached an audience who understands, identifies, and loves what they are reading.
Caz is a seriously exciting debut author. Sweet Little Lies will grip you from the first line to the last; you will be held tight by Caz’s compelling and distinctive voice. Cat Kinsella is a wonderful, fully-formed character. We can’t wait to see what she – and Caz – do next.
RICHARD AND JUDY
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It takes a large number of people to make the largest of dreams come true so here goes .?.?.
To my agent, Eugenie Furniss, for believing in me so passionately from the outset. Your enthusiasm for my writing knocked me sideways! Huge, huge, heartfelt thanks.
To Katherine Armstrong, editor extraordinaire – thanks for loving Cat, Parnell et al as much as I do, and for applying your shrewd eye and big heart to Sweet Little Lies and making it all the better for it. Thanks also to Bec Farrell who first championed my book, and to all at Bonnier Zaffre – you’ve made me feel so welcome during what has been a slightly out-of-body experience! Thanks also to Jon Appleton for his eagle-eyed copy edits.
To Richard & Judy and WHSmith for choosing Sweet Little Lies as the winner of the ‘Search for a Bestseller’ competition. It’s rare I’m rendered speechless but well done, you managed it.
To Erin Kelly, Anna Davis and Rufus Purdy at Curtis Brown Creative. Can’t believe it’s nearly three years since I walked into the boardroom with a hint of an idea and a whole load of self-doubt. I owe you a huge debt for helping me flip that around the other way!
To Alan Howarth for his invaluable insight into police procedure. A ‘couple of quick questions’ turned into months of daily badgering but please know how appreciated it was. Any remaining errors are entirely mine, not Alan’s.