‘I … I miss them. Now I’m on my own.’
Phoebe takes in the room again, readjusting her thinking. There have never been any photos on display in here, no signs that anyone else has been in the place since Phoebe’s last visit. Yes, Tara has tidied up a bit and her medication is having its intended effect, but what else does she have?
Phoebe needs to get back to the clinic to type up her notes and crack on with some paperwork. She’s behind on her adminand it will take hours to properly catch up. Not to mention everything that’s waiting for her back at home. But all of that can wait.
‘I’m going to make you a cup of tea,’ she says, standing up and placing a hand very gently on Tara’s arm. ‘And then let’s have a good chat.’
It’s late by the time Phoebe’s motorbike pulls back into the village. It didn’t feel right to leave when Tara was feeling so low, so they talked for a long time, Phoebe trying to encourage Tara to draw on some of the CBT methods she has taught her for when things are feeling overwhelming, like challenging and interrogating her negative thoughts and using breathing techniques to help relax her. It did seem by the time she left that Tara was feeling a little brighter. Phoebe had fished a ready meal out of the freezer and chucked it in the oven for her.
‘You take care of yourself, OK? And I’ll see you again soon.’
Not as soon as Phoebe would like. As she left, it struck her that, aside from the medication and support she’s able to offer, what Tara really needs is friends. But she’s not so unusual for being so isolated. Lots of her patients are in the same position, even the most loyal friends and family dropping away over the years when faced with the challenges of what a mental health condition can do to a person. If they even had that support network in the first place.
The van from this morning is still parked up outside the empty shop premises below her flat as Phoebe parks her motorbike on the street. She pauses for a moment to try to see inside the building, but the windows are covered with newspaperand there doesn’t seem to be anyone about. Eager to find out who was making all that noise this morning and who her new neighbours will be, she takes a step closer and presses her face up to the glass. Through a small tear in the paper, she is able to glimpse into the shop beyond.
The place is unrecognisable from Amit’s newsagent. All the old shelves have been cleared and in their place is a long counter. It looks as though there are some new shelves being constructed against the opposite wall, which would explain the banging she’d heard this morning. But it’s still hard to tell exactly what type of business is moving in.
Her shopping bags feel heavy in her hands, so she heads up to the flat, the bottles clinking together as she climbs the stairs.
When she opens the door, she immediately senses the shift in atmosphere just since this morning.
She dumps the bags on the floor and heads straight into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe. Rows of empty coat hangers stare back at her from one half of the rail and a lump that she’s been pushing down all day rises in her throat, her vision growing blurry.
So, he’s really gone then.
CHAPTER 7
The walls in the nursery are a bright lido blue, matching the paint of the beach-house-shaped bookcase in the corner. On a hanger on the back of the door is the tiniest pink swimsuit – a gift from Kate’s lido friends that is as yet unused. This is one of Kate’s favourite rooms in the cottage. She decorated it the day after moving in, before even unpacking the kitchen crockery. Jay kept telling her that it didn’t matter, the baby wasn’t going to care about the colour of the walls, but she was determined to make everything perfect.
She takes a photo of the room now, careful to cut out the nappies and piles of washing she is busy folding, Rosie asleep in a sling on her chest, and instead capturing the bright corner where sunlight streams onto a rocking chair covered in the rainbow blanket given to her by her friends Emma and Leonie when Rosie was born.
Opening her Work Wives WhatsApp group, she sends the picture to them.
In pride of place. It looks so lovely in here and always makes me think of you both xx
The replies come in quickly.
Emma:It looks great! Good choice, Rosie’s godmothers!
Leonie:Yeah, well done us. That kiddo’s lucky to have such style icons as aunties.
Kate sets down the laundry so she can focus on her phone, checking first that Rosie is still sleeping soundly in the sling. She selects a couple of the most recent photos of Rosie and sends them to the group.
Emma:Ah, isn’t she perfect!!
Leonie:She looks sooo much like Jay.
It’s what absolutely everyone has been saying to her since her daughter was born. It was the very first thing that her mum said when she met her new granddaughter. Kate never says anything. Because Rosiedoeslook exactly like her father.
Kate types quickly with one hand.
Tell me what’s going on at work, I’m bored …
Emma is the first to reply again.You’re not missing out on much, don’t worry. Just a normal day in the newsroom.
But Kate knows there is no such thing as a normal day in the newsroom. No two days are the same, which is one of the things she loves about working at theHerald. Compiling the next day’s stories, you feel as though you’re at the heart of things, in the place where everything is happening. There’s always this buzz and sense of energy, partly from all the journalists like her and her friends busily doing interviews and typing away in the same open-plan office and partly from the sense that in the newsroom, nothing is ever certain. Things can change at thelast minute if a story suddenly breaks or the editor changes her mind about what stories they’ll be leading with. It keeps you constantly on your toes. OK, it can be exhausting sometimes and when Kate said goodbye to her colleagues on her last day before her maternity leave, she’d been happy to leave, looking forward to a break from the relentlessness of it all after years of working hard to climb her way up the rickety journalism career ladder. But now …
You have to give me more than that. I just watched three hours ofGilmore Girlsand am now folding laundry.
