Phoebe glances at Camilla’s bedside table where a pill bottle and glass of water stand alongside several silver-framed black-and-white photographs of a young couple on their wedding day. Although Camilla might have changed dramatically since then, she is still recognisable in the photographs of her in her white lace wedding dress. Phoebe’s attention is drawn particularly to the photograph in the middle, where Camilla’s head is turned towards her husband’s, looking up at him with a proud smile as he faces the camera, beaming, his face slightly obscured by a blur of confetti.
‘Besides,’ Phoebe continues, ‘I’m not so interested in diagnoses and medical terms like that. For now, I really just want to know how you’re feeling. Do you think you could tell me a bit about that?’
Camilla sighs in response, saying nothing.
Phoebe glances at the photos again and decides to try a different approach.
‘What was your husband’s name?’
For the first time since Phoebe arrived, a smile appears on Camilla’s face. She reaches out for the central photograph on the bedside table, lifting it towards the light. ‘Edward. My Teddy.’
‘You look very in love.’
‘We were.’ Her eyes grow misty. ‘Of course, all couples have their little arguments. And, my goodness, his snoring … But we were in love. Right until the end.’
Phoebe’s attention drifts to the table on the other side of the bed. There are a pair of reading glasses folded on top of a copy of a political biography. Propped up beside it is a small,framed photograph, this time of Camilla on her own, perhaps in her twenties, smiling broadly, a rose tucked behind one ear.
It’s hard, sometimes, to imagine that there was once laughter and great joy in her patients’ lives when she meets them at their rock bottom. Seeing the photographs draws to Phoebe’s mind a very different Camilla, a Camilla who perhaps laughed easily and smiled often. Who cheated at Scrabble but whose charm let her always get away with it. Phoebe’s hope is that the person in that photograph is still in there somewhere.
‘I understand it happened quite suddenly. That must have been a huge shock for you.’
Camilla nods, wiping tears from her sparkling blue eyes. ‘Yes. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. And after that … Well, I just couldn’t imagine my life without him. I still can’t, really.’ She puts the wedding photo down, her hand trembling slightly. Then she takes a deep breath, pushing her hair behind her ears and meeting Phoebe’s eye properly for the first time. ‘I dowantto feel better, though. For Arabella more than anything. She’s already lost her father …’ Her voice trembles again and she stops, unable to continue.
‘Well, the fact that you want to feel better is a huge thing. That’s the start of things getting better, even if I know it mustn’t feel like that right now. What I want to do in our time together is to help you find some things to feel hopeful about again, and to give you some tools to help when those dark feelings descend, as I’m sure they will sometimes. And if those feelings ever get overwhelming, I’m here for you to talk to. I can imagine there’s only so much you feel able to tell your daughter about how you’re feeling.’
Camilla nods. ‘I don’t want her to worry about me. But I hate having to be dishonest when she asks if I’m OK.’
‘That’s understandable. But you can tell me anything, however bad it might seem.’
Another nod.
‘One of my first steps is going to be trying to get you out of this room. It’s a beautiful room – in fact, it’s about the size of my whole flat …’ Is Phoebe imagining it or does Camilla smile slightly at that? There’s certainly a glimmer of amusement in her eye that gives Phoebe hope. ‘But I think it might help to get out and reconnect with some of the things that used to make you happy. What did you love to do before all of this happened?’
The older woman’s attention drifts to the window, where the trees sway slightly, bright green leaves dancing against a sky scattered with pale clouds.
‘I loved to spend time with my husband.’
Phoebe kicks herself as she sees Camilla closing down again, her lips drawing tightly together. She fell into that one. Perhaps she should have phrased it differently.
‘What about things you used to do just for yourself? Can you think of a time you did something for yourself that made you really happy?’
Helping her patients isn’t about getting them to live a version of their life that she thinks will make them feel better. It has to come from them. And that can mean all sorts of different things. It might even mean looking after bees, Phoebe thinks to herself, recalling her patient Maude. She still hasn’tworked out how to help realise that particular ambition. She files the thought away alongside the many other things on her to-do list.
‘I … I don’t know.’ Camilla frowns, the question clearly rolling over in her mind. She looks up, meeting Phoebe’s eye. ‘What would your answer be?’
It takes her by surprise. Whenhasshe felt truly happy in the past? She expects some memory of her and Max to pop up, bringing with it a stab of pain, but instead, the image that comes to mind is of glittering blue water, warm sun and the feeling of sand between her toes and salt on her lips.
‘When I was younger, I used to love swimming in the sea. I grew up in Cornwall, so I basically lived on the beach. Although swimming hasn’t been a big part of my life in recent years.’
Or at all. She hasn’t had time for swimming. She signed up to a gym with a pool once but ended up never using her membership so cancelled it a few months later. But then there was this morning’s impromptu dip. She thinks back to laughing with Sandra, Jazz and Hester and to the soothing feeling of the cool water on her skin. God, it had felt good.
Camilla nods again, a thoughtful expression appearing on her face. ‘I started running a few years ago. I wasn’t very fast and never went particularly far, but I did enjoy it.’
‘There we go,’ Phoebe replies enthusiastically. ‘That’s a great start. Going out for a gentle jog sounds like a brilliant idea.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I can’t see myself doing that now …’
Phoebe can sense Camilla retreating inside herself. Shit. She thinks about Arabella and how terrified she clearly is abouther mother’s well-being, however hard she might have tried to hide it when she first opened the door to the big old house that seems so empty with just the two of them in it.
