I nod apprehensively; the counsellor knocks on the door, and walks in.
Cara is sat on a sofa by a large bay window that overlooks the gardens. Even despite the appalling weather, the room is very light, and I can see that she actually looks really well. Although she’s wearing an oversized jumper and leggings, I can tell she’s still very thin, but there is natural colour in her cheeks. The only surprise is that her hair – tied back in a ponytail – is now Louise’s reddy-brown. I guess she dyed it when she was with us.
I walk in and sit on the sofa opposite her, placing my coat across the arm. The counsellor sits in an armchair between us, and smiles. ‘So, I’m going to stand in today.’ She turns to Cara. ‘Are you OK?’
Cara nods, and takes a deep breath. ‘Thanks for coming, Jessica.’
‘You’re very welcome. How are you today?’ I’m careful to add the ‘today’. I remember that being helpful when people did it for me after Beth died.
‘I’m… nervous.’ She smiles shyly, but then it’s gone, instantly, and she just looks very uncomfortable. ‘You know what, I’m really sorry – I don’t think I can do this after all.’ She turns to the counsellor.
‘That’s fine, Cara. Would you like to stop?’
She nods. ‘Yes. Maybe we could try next Sunday instead?’
‘We’ll be able to arrange something, I’m sure.’ The counsellor stands up, and I follow her lead, despite having driven an hour and a half to get here, and it’ll be the same back again. I also said no to a weekend in Chichester staying with Laurel – which James would have loved, being around her boys – but then I knew this might happen. ‘It’s not a problem, Cara. Just be in touch when you’re ready.’
I pick up my coat and have just reached the door when she says desperately: ‘Wait!’
Both the counsellor and I turn back.
‘Sorry.’ She tries a smile. ‘I’m just really… anxious… today. It’s partly knowing that I’m leaving here in a couple of weeks. I’m ready – don’t get me wrong. I’m so ready this time, but it’s still hard. The trouble with private treatment is it’s mostly too nice. You get used to having everything organised for you, so you don’t have to think… which is of course why they sling you out again before you get too comfortable and never cope in the real world again.’ She laughs nervously. ‘I’m just trying… to wrap my head round it all.’ She stops her tumble of words and makes a visible attempt to gather herself. ‘Please don’t go. You’ve come a long way. I want to do this.’
The counsellor holds out a hand in invitation for me to sit down again, and I do as I’m told.
‘OK, Cara?’ she says, when we’re back where we started.
‘Yes.’ Cara looks up to the ceiling, then straight at me. ‘So, as you know, I’ve been here at Pathway on a voluntary basis for the last six weeks and, as I said, I’ve got two more left. As part of my ongoing treatment, I wanted to see you to talk to you about a few things, if that’s OK?’
She’s obviously been practising what she wants to say. ‘Of course.’ I wait in the silence that follows, wondering if I should elaborate more, be more encouraging. ‘It’s very peaceful in here. That’s probably why they call it a quiet room, I expect,’ I finish lamely.
Cara smiles properly for the first time. ‘I expect so. How’s James?’
‘He’s very well, thank you. We finally move into a new house next week. We ended up renting a lot longer than we thought we would, but he’s really excited about having a new big-boy bedroom.’
‘That’s nice,’ she says, almost wistfully, and I inwardly kick myself. She hardly needs me telling her about our new family home when her new start is going to be so different to that.
She clears her throat, and apparently reading my mind, says: ‘When I leave here I’m going to my grandparents in Chichester, to live there for a while. We’ve got some good aftercare in place for me, so it won’t be like when I was discharged from the ward after my six-month involuntary section.’ She instinctively pulls her jumper sleeves further down over her wrists.
I avert my eyes. ‘I’m sure it won’t be.’
‘This place has been really helpful for me, although sometimes I can just hear Dad saying: “How much did you say it costs?”’
I choose my words very carefully. ‘I think he would have been pleased to see how well your recovery is going this time and would have considered that money well invested.’
She frowns, and instantly worried that I’ve said the wrong thing again, I hold my breath in the silence that follows, but rather she looks out of the window and, in another rush, says: ‘I’m so sorry, Jessica. I wanted to say, face to face, that I should never have hit you. I’ve never done anything like that before and I never will again. I also never intended the mirror to fall that close to James. It was just meant to smash. I would never have hurt him. The broken knife wasn’t actually meant as a threat either – I was just… practising.’ She looks down. ‘I also shouldn’t have called your friend, Natalia; that wasn’t even part of it. Like I said to you that day, I only did it because she was so rude about me. I didn’t know she was going to be nasty enough to tell Ben. I hope you don’t see her any more?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Well, that’s good at least.’ She pauses to gather herself. ‘There’s something more I want to say about Beth but I don’t want to upset you, especially when I know it’s her anniversary on Wednesday?’
I take a deep breath. ‘It’s OK, I assumed we would be talking about her today at some point, so go for it.’
‘I’ve been exploring a lot in counselling whether Mum or Dad really did tell me to hurt Beth because, as you know, I was sure I could remember actually doing it? I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t think it was real. I’m almost certain that Mum made the whole thing up to hurt Dad. I don’t believe she would have been able to do that, and Dad wouldn’t have either. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a murderer. That said, he also wasn’t a hero – as someone helpfully told me in group the other day – for killing himself so I would only be charged with what I did to you. It’s important to me that I tell you, in my opinion, there was nothing selfless about what he did. He knew he was going to be exposed and ruined when they found everything in his study. He took the easy way out rather than face his punishment. I wish knowing that would also make me stop caring about him. I wish I’d not wasted so much of my life waiting for him to care about me.’
I exhale slowly. We seem to have stumbled into surprisingly deep and dangerous water very quickly. I glance at the counsellor for guidance, who nods encouragingly. Again, picking my words very carefully, I respond: ‘While I agree with you that your father was a very selfish and delusional man, there’s also no doubt in my mind that he wanted to keep you safe. That’s ultimately all you want as a parent, Cara. It’s an instinctive thing. He wanted to protect you.’
My voice trembles slightly as I speak, and I know she hears it. She considers that for a moment, but her expression betrays no reaction either way. Instead, appearing to gain strength, she looks at me directly and says: ‘I’m also truly sorry for suggesting to you that Ed checking on me at night while I was in your house was any way inappropriate. I imagined that’s what a girl of 18 would do in that situation if she didn’t understand or hadn’t been told what was actually going on, but I played my part too authentically, and it wasn’t fair. I’m also really sorry that at first you thought I meant Beth was watching me at night. I heard genuine hope in your voice and I am ashamed that I manipulated you like that. I want you to know, I never got that feeling in the house. Although I still can’t explain those weird three knocks on the front door that time when you and Ed were there.’ She shudders. ‘Which still freaks me out a bit, to be honest. I don’t like things I can’t explain…’