Margot’s face hardens. ‘Yes, we’re still together.’
Something tells me I should be steering Anastasia away from this conversation, yet I can’t help but want her to drive towards it. So I say nothing.
‘You two were always on the covers of the celeb mags, weren’t you?’ Anastasia persists. ‘What did they call you? “The Homewrecker”?’
Anastasia momentarily loses her footing. I grab her arm to stop her from falling. The distraction provides Margot with an excuse to remove herself from the situation.
‘It was lovely to have met you,’ she says, ‘but I need to check on my kids.’
And with that, she slips her sunglasses back on, throws her head back and walks away, every inch the star she apparently used to be.
Chapter 7
‘Why do you think you’re here?’ he begins.
His voice is soft and calming and at odds with the spikiness I feel.
‘I’m not mad, I know why I’m here,’ I reply. ‘Read your notes.’
I look towards a brown manila folder lying on the wooden table that separates us. A few sheets of white A4 paper poke from the side, but I can’t make out what’s been written. I can hazard a guess though.
‘I read them this morning,’ he says. ‘But I’d prefer to hear it from you, in your own words.’
I look around the room. It’s white and sterile, much like the rest of the building. Everything here is colourless: the people, the bedroom I’m forced to share, the lounge where the only voices are those coming from a television no one watches, the dining room where we eat in silence.
He and I are both sitting in leather armchairs opposite one another. There are two framed photographs hanging from the wall, both generic Ikea images. One is of a pier leading out into a blueish lake and the other is of grey pebbles on a calm shore.
‘What is it with psychiatrists and water?’ I ask.
‘You’ve seen a psychiatrist before?’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘If I answer yours, will you answer mine?’
I nod.
‘Well, some of us believe being near water can induce calm and make people feel at ease. It promotes a sense of relaxation, especially for those experiencing mental health concerns.’
‘Like me.’
‘Is that what you believe you’re experiencing?’
I raise an eyebrow to suggest it’s a rhetorical question and he moves on.
‘What do you think when you look at those pictures?’
I study the one featuring the pier. ‘I think,’ I reply, ‘how far would I need to swim before I could drown myself.’
He doesn’t react.
‘Kidding,’ I add.
‘Are you still experiencing an urge to end your life?’
‘No. Not anymore.’
‘Could I ask what’s changed? You were brought to this facility because you were found by Beachy Head – historically, a popular cliff edge used by people planning to end their lives.’
