It was two days later, and I was back sitting on Amber’s sofa, playing for time. She’d given me a cup of
chamomile tea, and I dragged the bag back and forth through the yellowing hot water, trying to steel
myself for what was to come. I could feel Amber’s eyes on me. ‘It can be like this, when there’s been a
rupture in the therapist/client relationship,’ she said eventually. ‘But if we can unpack what’s happened
between us, we’ll find the gold.’
‘What has happened between us?’ I said. She smiled at me. ‘Our first conflict. But conflict is part of
healthy relationships. And learning to navigate it well will help you when you’re out in the big bad
world. Healthy conflict brings people closer.’ I stared at her, fighting an internal battle. Either route felt
deadly to me. I had to speak now. ‘Arthur was your boyfriend,’ I muttered.
‘Sorry?’ I looked up, the words ringing out on their second airing. ‘Arthur was your boyfriend.’
Amber’s eyes flashed with rage. ‘Rachel, I told you to leave that relationship alone. I handled it. I was
protecting you – from yourself, as much as anyone.’ Nausea rose in me again, made me bold. ‘It made
me feel completely sick when he told me. Like I should’ve known.’
My voice was shaking. ‘I would never have done it if I’d known.’ ‘There was no reason for you to
know,’ she said. ‘It was none of your business.’ My own anger was flaring now. ‘Why did you even
bring him on the retreat?’ I demanded.
‘I’m disgusted with him, but I also never would have predicted something like what happened between
the two of you. I thought you were...’ She stopped. ‘I didn’t think you’d put yourself in harm’s way like
that, after all the work we’ve done together.’ Why wouldn’t she take any responsibility for it? And what
did ‘harm’s way’ even mean? ‘You shouldn’t have brought him, not without telling us who he was.’
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Arthur is a colleague now, nothing more. It would have interfered with
the healing journey for all of you if you’d known our history.’ It was dangerous, the way my fury was
rising. ‘I feel like every time you say you’re protecting me, it’s to explain away a lie.’ Amber raised her
palm up like a stop sign. ‘This is classic transference, Rachel. You lied, by omission, about Arthur, and
now you’re struggling with the aftermath of your own dishonesty. The impact on our bond. So you’re
twisting the story to make me – your protector – the liar.’ Her voice got softer. ‘I appreciate how
frightening it is to need someone as much as you need me, but you trusting in our connection is the key
to your healing.’
We sat there for a few seconds on our opposite sofas, staring at each other. Was I really going to risk
pushing this? ‘I don’t know if I do trust you right now,’ I said, my voice hoarse. ‘What are you trying to
express to me, Rachel?’ I was beyond her therapy-speak now, the way it drained meaning out of hard
truths, all the while pretending it was digging de eper.
‘Did you know?’ I asked her. ‘Did you know that my parents had gone to the police?’ I saw it: a flicker
before she recovered herself. I knew those tiny tells from Mum: Amber had got herself back under
control, but I’d seen it. My stomach dropped away. ‘What?’ she said, feigning confusion. ‘I remember
you mentioned something last session... something Sophie said? But there was so much more that we
were dealing with that we never got time to unpack it.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ I said, some part of me still desperately hoping I was wrong. ‘You did know. I
think you found out, and then you sent me to make a complaint of my own. It’s too much of a
coincidence otherwise, us going two days apart.’ ‘Rachel, now you really are being paranoid.’ Amber
leant across the coffee table and tried to take my hand, but I wrapped myself up tightly, pulling away.
‘Do you think I’ve bugged your parents’ house? Or what, I’m tracking them with drones? Do fill me in!’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. I wrapped myself up more tightly. I was rocking myself now, but it was providing
scant comfort. ‘I don’t know.’ Amber watched me, her face neutral. Winter sun was shining feebly
through the window, surrounding her with soft light. She looked almost too beautiful, her youth
extended by any means possible. Was there any part of our connection that wasn’t a lie?
‘Rachel,’ she said, her words a gentle lullaby. ‘You’re not well. You know that. Your damage makes
you de eply self-destructive. And now you’re trying to destroy the one thing that’s saved you out of,
what? Some twisted loyalty to your parents? I can’t let that happen. Not after all we’ve been through
together.’ I hugged my knees under my chin, shock and confusion buffeting me. I had to try to stay clear
– be the woman who could build a career or stand up to her family’s relentless bullying, not the girl who
sobbed and heaved on this sofa until my face was red raw.
‘No. No, no, no. It’s not that!’ I said. I felt a cre eping nausea, a mixture of shock and the after-effects of
the bottle of cheap red I’d drained last night to knock myself out, the tannin still sharp in my dry mouth.
Amber stayed hypnotically calm. ‘Just sip your tea. Put your feet on the ground. Let your nervous
system re-set.’ ‘I don’t trust you anymore.’ She heard me this time, the words like a blade cutting
through the space between us. ‘Tim thinks someone drugged me on the retreat.’
Her eyes flashed black with a rage I’d never seen before, and a small, soft part of me reflexively wished
I’d never started this. That I could st ep effortlessly backwards. But I also knew it was far too late.
‘I think we need to stop for today, Rachel.’ Her tone felt off, less controlled. ‘These baroque accusations
would be funny if they didn’t make me fear for you so much. For how close you are to breaking point.’
Her face shapeshifted from beautiful to ugly before my eyes, the automatic dismissal of my truth
shatteringly reminiscent of Mum. ‘I’ve always known your family were toxic, but I don’t think I
appreciated quite how de ep the poison ran.’
And then I suddenly saw it, her rotten face as telling as a crime scene photograph. The realization sent
my blood to ice. She didn’t hate them on my behalf: her hatred was her very own vendetta. ‘I need to go
back to Detective Williams,’ I said, words tumbling out of my mouth too fast now. ‘I need to talk to her
again. I need to say it’s not as simple as I said it was. She needs to back off from my family until she’s
got all the facts—’
‘Rachel!’ Amber was shouting. ‘Stop it. Stop talking. You’re not going back to the police. There’s
something I need to tell you – something you’ve needed to know for a very long time – that will change
everything. So please just shut up and listen to me.’