Elsewhere in Success Read Free

about this some more, Harry, when I get home.’
    â€˜And what time will that be? Just so I know when to make myself scarce.’
    He squeezes out the last word as she turns away, but she doesn’t look back.
    Lucy has flowers on her desk: purple, yellow. This startles Louisa. She’s told her about the flowers. Is it coincidence?Is the counsellor playing games with her? She gives her the benefit of the doubt. She decides to recount the thoughts she’s been having again, about the roadside memorial. Lucy tells her to close her eyes and counts her into a state of deep relaxation.
    â€˜Tell me about the memorial, Louisa,’ she says.
    Louisa speaks with some effort. ‘I’m driving straight up to it, but it isn’t any closer. I’m getting out of the car. There’s a big hill in front of me. I’m climbing this hill – it goes on forever. There are ants crawling up my legs.’ Louisa stamps her feet in a frenzy.
    â€˜What’s happening now?’
    â€˜Biting me.’
    â€˜They’ve stopped,’ says Lucy. ‘They’ve gone away. They’ve all gone away. Go on, keep climbing. You’re at the top now. What can you see?’
    Louisa calms down, becomes still. ‘A cross, white cross. There’s a name.’
    â€˜What name?’
    â€˜Tom, I think. I can’t see for sure. I’m finding it hard to see it.’
    â€˜Try. Tell me what you see.’
    â€˜It’s very old, very old. The wood is split and the paint is cracked. Yellowing and peeling off. There are dead flowers about. Nobody has been here for a very long time.’
    â€˜How can you tell?’
    Louisa speaks slowly. ‘Feels abandoned. The ground is hard, gravelly, as if the keeper of the memorial has gone away. No, more than that, there’s ... a feeling of abuse. It’s as if a bouquet were carefully placed here, and then kicked to pieces. There’s a curled-up photograph lying on the gravel at the base of the cross, but I can’t see what it’s of.’ She’s agitated again. ‘I don’t want this. I don’t want this, Tom.’
    â€˜What’s happening?’
    â€˜He’s walking away from me. Come back here, young man! Tom, you come right back here this minute! How can you beso stupid?’ Louisa shifts around in her chair impatiently. ‘It’s not necessary.’
    â€˜What’s not necessary, Louisa?’
    â€˜This ... this cross here. This pain here.’ She pushes her fists into her stomach. Her face is tight with grief.
    â€˜You’re okay,’ says Lucy. ‘You’re all right, Louisa. You’re relaxed and in control.’ Lucy is silent for a moment, leaving Louisa waiting with her eyes closed before she speaks again. She pitches her voice low, to reassure. ‘As I count to ten I want you to gradually come back to this room, this place, feeling calm, relaxed, energised. One ... two – feeling more relaxed – three ... four ... five – calm and in control – six ... seven ... eight – energised and alert – open your eyes when you feel you want to – nine ... ten – fully awake, alert, relaxed.’
    Louisa sits absolutely still and heavy in the chair. After a moment she says, ‘I can smell formic acid.’
    Lucy stares at her. ‘Tell me what’s happening for you right now.’
    â€˜I’m devastated, as ever,’ Louisa says, but guards her face with the hint of a smile, attempts to stop her darting thoughts, to slow down, to think of nothing but her own breath going in and out. She breathes, but it’s not easy.
    Silence follows. With some effort she meets Lucy’s eyes.
    â€˜No. Sorry, I’m not ready,’ she tells her. ‘I thought I was, but I’m not. My mind’s a complete blank.’ She laughs apologetically. ‘It’s a blessing really.’
    No response. Lucy uses silence like a knife,