Boxing Day felt almost respectable – a hint of desperate, but not too exposing for us. I closeted myself
away in Rachel’s bedroom, long since r epurposed. I had an exercise bike in there by then, shelves full of
box files and oatmeal-painted walls, but I imagined I could still see the shadow of the Blu-tack she’d
used to stick up her endless Spice Girls posters. It used to infuriate me, the way it left greasy marks on
the paintwork, but now she was out of reach, every aspect of her, every memory, seemed like a precious
artefact.
I shook myself out of my pointless reverie and called Deborah Madden. We were school mum friends
back in the day, now relegated to the occasional ‘girls night out’ as our gang still tragically framed such
things, despite the fact we were well into the age of HRT cream and compulsory Spanx. ‘Are you okay,
Lily?’ she asked after the opening niceties. Something in the lilt of her voice infuriated me, made me
feel I’d given my distress away. Was I imagining it, or was the implied question whether or not I was
treating myself to a post-Christmas divorce? Nick and Josh had headed out first thing for a game of
squash. I knew exactly where my husband was.
‘We’re great,’ I said firmly. ‘More grandchildren than we know what to do with, and the whole house
still reeking of turkey. How was yours?’ ‘Oh, you know,’ she said, weary. ‘It’s hard work, isn’t it?’ ‘It
is,’ I agreed, ‘but so nice to have an excuse to have the whole family together.’ ‘Yes.’ The pause
stretched out elastically down the phone line. I had to dive in.
‘I wanted to ask you... Do you remember, we were having a few problems with Rachel?’ Deborah’s
daughter Olivia was a contemporary of Sophie’s, so
Rachel was less familiar to her. ‘And you passed on a number for Amber Greville, that therapist?’ ‘Oh
yes, of course,’ she said. ‘How is Rachel?’ ‘She’s great,’ I said, words almost overlapping hers, then
instantly regretted the way I’d boxed myself in. ‘But we wanted to learn a little bit more about Amber.
Qualifications, you know.’ I gave a brittle little laugh that rung in my ears like I imagined tinnitus
might. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t buy driving lessons for your kids from a random bloke in a Skoda. I just
want to reassure myself she’s the real deal and she doesn’t have much detail on her website.’
‘But Rachel’s doing better, it sounds like?’ ‘Yes.’ I stared at the willow tree that grew outside the square
window, its branches blowing about in the wind, trying to force down my impatience. ‘I just wanted to
know where you found out about her. Do you know anyone who’s actually been treated by her?’
Deborah gave an irritating laugh. ‘Trip Advisor reviews, that kind of thing? I don’t think Amber quite
works like that. You’re lucky you got Rachel in to see her. She’s pretty selective. I nearly didn’t even
bother giving you the number.’
‘Have you, or any of your family and friends, ever been treated by Amber Greville?’ I said, my words
staccato. I heard Deborah inhale. There were a couple of years we were on the PTA together – she was
hopelessly indecisive as I recall, always leaving me to steer the ship while she flapped about
‘considering all angles’. Stay-at-home mothers are woefully inefficient in my experience.
‘My niece was struggling with anorexia,’ she said. ‘I’d say Amber brought her back to the light. She’s
thriving now; she’ll be graduating from Exeter this year.’ Back to the light. Somebody had most
certainly drunk Amber’s sickening Kool-Aid. ‘Right. And would her parents agree with that assessment,
do you think?’ Another testy pause. ‘What are you actually getting at, Lily?’ snapped Deborah. ‘I’m
happy to help you, but you have to tell me what it is you need. We all like Amber very much – she
actually saw Olivia briefly too, after she graduated – but she’s
unconventional. Maybe you’d be happier with someone who’s more by the book.’ So, it was my lack of
bohemian free spirit that had landed me in this mess? ‘Forget it,’ I snapped. ‘You’ve been very helpful
already. Thanks again.’ Before I hung up, Deborah got in her parting shot. ‘Amber might not be right
for you, but it sounds like she’s right for Rachel.
Don’t you think that’s what matters, Lily?’ The two things were one and the same, but no one gives me
credit for having known that. Not even now.