Page 21 of The Therapist

It takes me the whole drive to Jack’s house to calm down, but once I am there, I am able to plaster a smile on my face for Marion, Jack’s mother, and thank her for having my son for the afternoon.

‘I was nice to Abigail today,’ Iggy tells me after he’s buckled himself into his seat. ‘I didn’t say anything mean.’

‘I’m sure you didn’t, sweetheart,’ I answer him.

He tells me every day that he has been nice, that he has been good, and I wonder how long it will go on for.

I did some damage with my reaction to his bullying incident and I am worried about that.

Or is it a good thing, that he’s learned from the experience?

I just don’t know. Suddenly, I am questioning myself over everything.

I can’t trust myself and I hate feeling like that.

Right now, I’m more worried about Sandy and where she is, what has happened to her.

I cannot help but go over my sessions with her.

How would I have behaved if I did not have my own insecurities tapping me on the shoulder as I looked at her?

I think I’ve messed this up, really messed this up, and now a woman may be hurt or… dead.

‘Aren’t we going to drive, Mum?’ says Iggy and I realise I haven’t even started my car.

‘Sorry, love, of course we are. Tell me more about your day. What was your favourite class today?’ I start the car and pull out into the street, where the heavy rain is taking a break right now.

‘It was art because Mr Tate said that we could draw anything we liked and I drew a Transformer and he said it was good. And Jack’s mum made chocolate chip pancakes as a snack – can you believe that, Mum, a snack?

– and she said that I can come over whenever I want because I’m polite and said “please” and “thank you” just like you and Dad said I should.

Do you like chocolate chip pancakes? I do.

I wonder if Becky and Dad like them. Can I have them for breakfast on Saturday? ’

‘I’m sure you can,’ I say as I pull into my driveway, where I am glad I have an internal entrance from the garage to the house as the rain ramps up again.

‘Dinner will be ready soon,’ I tell Iggy once we are in the kitchen and he has dropped his school bag on the floor. ‘Do you have homework?’

‘Mr Tate said that we have to do two pages of our reading books but me and Jack both read to his mum so it’s all done.’

‘That’s good,’ I say, thankful to Marion for taking care of homework even though I usually enjoy the time with Iggy.

‘Can I play on my Switch?’

‘Only until I call you for dinner, okay?’

‘Okay, Mum.’ He smiles and dashes out of the kitchen

I am relieved to have a moment of silence as I pull a bottle of red wine out of the cupboard and pour myself a glass before putting on a pot of water to boil for pasta. At least I thought to make Bolognese sauce yesterday so that we could eat it during the week.

While I wait, I sit on a stool at my small kitchen counter as I sip the heavy red wine.

Is Mike telling the truth? I know that women are not the only people who experience domestic violence.

It’s much rarer for a man to be the one being hurt but not something that has never happened.

But he is so much bigger than she is. One of them is lying and everyone’s first instinct would be to believe her.

But you’ve been questioning her all along.

I open my phone, calling Ben.

‘Hey, Lana.’ I’m so pleased he answered, I feel my eyes grow hot with tears. It’s been a long time since I was so scared, so panicked in a situation that could easily have gotten out of control.

‘I went to Sandy’s house.’

‘What? You should not have done that without someone with you. I thought you were going to wait or call the police. Her husband is dangerous, Lana, you know that.’ Ben has obviously made his decision on who is telling the truth. ‘What if he gets angry with her because you turned up at the house?—’

‘She wasn’t there,’ I interrupt him. ‘He says she didn’t get the kids from school and she’s not answering her phone. He said…’ I take a deep sip of wine. ‘He said that she’s the one who hits him and he told me that she would actually leave her children and that I don’t really know what she’s like.’

Sandy has only ever expressed love and adoration for her children. She has admitted in sessions to yelling at them and I know she gets upset with herself when she does, but what mother doesn’t yell?

Ben is quiet for so long, I take my phone away from my ear to see if he’s hung up.

‘Ben?’

‘You didn’t believe any of that, did you? I mean, look at the size of the guy. And I know she loves those kids. They’re the only reason she hasn’t left.’

‘When did you meet Mike?’

‘I didn’t. She showed me a picture – a wedding picture if you can believe that. They were happy once but…you should not have gone there alone.’

‘Yeah, well,’ I say, taking another sip of my wine, ‘I’m fine but I’m not sure where to go from here. What if he’s telling the truth and she turns up in a day or two?’

‘What if he’s done something to her? You need to call the police.’

‘But…’

‘Lana, don’t mess about with this. Call the police, report her missing and tell them your concerns.

I have to go now, my mother’s calling from the UK.

I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He hangs up the phone abruptly.

He’s angry with me for doing something stupid but I’m angry with him for putting me in this position in the first place.

I know what he thinks I should do, but I’m still not completely convinced.

If Sandy does turn up and the police are involved, it may make things worse for her. This is such an odd toxic situation.

I try Sandy’s mobile again but only get her voicemail. What do I do here?

The water for the pasta is boiling and the same thoughts keep going round and round in my head. I wish I had never taken Sandy on as a client and I am immediately guilty about this thought. I should be happy to help. That’s my job.

But she says one thing and Mike says another and I know that the truth is obviously somewhere in between unless one of them is an outright liar. But which one?