Theo used to say she was a hopeless case for a therapist.
‘You have to stop helping people we meet at dinner parties,’ he said one night when they came home after Rose had spent an hour telling a sobbing guest that there was help available for her disordered eating.
‘But that’s what we do, isn’t it?’ Rose had said, and he’d laughed and kissed her, said he adored her.
Just not enough, Rose thinks candidly.
‘Hello Bobbi,’ she says now.
‘I want to know what she says about me,’ mutters Bobbi.
She has a glass of clear liquid with a couple of lemon slices in it beside her.
Rose does not approve. It could be water or it could be neat vodka.
‘Can I get you water?’ Rose asks politely for information purposes. She moves a box of printer paper off a chair and sits down.
The room is blissfully cool thanks to the air-con. Rose had wanted the office to have a zen-like calm, even if it did have to include computers and files.
‘Water? Might be nice,’ Bobbi says owlishly, picking up her glass and holding it close as if someone might take it away.
Definitely not water, then.
Adriana arrives with Rose’s tea, which adds a powerful valerian aroma to the room. Bobbi wrinkles her nose.
‘Could we get some water, please,’ asks Rose.
Adriana’s back in a moment with two glasses and some Greek island spring water.
‘Just drink this first,’ says Bobbi, holding her glass up.
Adriana and Rose look at each other, then, as one, reach towards the glass.
‘Bobbi, I can’t have you getting dangerously drunk on our premises,’ Rose says, forcefully taking the glass away from Bobbi.
‘That’s nasty,’ says Bobbi crossly. ‘The second nasty thing you’ve done to me. No, not nasty – cruel!!! You don’t care who you hurt, do you? You’ve messed with Keera’s head. What have you done to her?’
‘Nothing,’ says Rose calmly, knowing that her very calmness is going to enrage Bobbi even more.
People like Bobbi like operating in fight mode: it’s what they know. Whoever shouts loudest gets what they want.
But Rose, who knows exactly what growing up in a shout-fest is like, had long ago vowed that her life would be about mature grown-up conversations where there was no bullying or screaming.
‘You’ve donesomething!’ Bobbi hadn’t got the no-shouting memo and is pointing a finger at Rose. ‘She wants to leave music behind. Do something else. Not tour!’
Bobbi stops with her mouth open, as if this concept is so wrong, she can barely continue to talk. But she regroups.
‘It’s your fault, Rose bloody Talisman. She wasn’t like that when she came out of rehab, so it’s your fault. After all I’ve done for her …’
Rose smiles. The old ‘After all I’ve done for them’ trope.
Rose didn’t plan on working with clients’ families but they’re here now so she must.
‘Did you strike a bargain with Keera when she was born?’ asks Rose gently. ‘Did you tell her in the hospital that you would look after her but that she had to pay a price for this care? Your bargain was that you wanted to be in the music business and Keera’s job was to get you there?’
Bobbi’s face scrunches up in confusion. ‘No, don’t be ridiculous,’ she says.
‘So, no bargain whereby you gave motherhood in exchange for something?’
