The clinic, near Zurich, was incredible. It was like staying in a five-star hotel.
In morning therapy, I admitted just how traumatic my sister’s death had been, and during EMDR I remembered having told her that I hated her just a few days before she died. After a particularly traumatic hypnotherapy session, I recalled feeling jealous, of all things, that Dad had chosen my sister, not to mention guilty about that jealousy. There were layers and layers of trauma left from my childhood that none of the new-age therapies I’d messed around with had even begun to touch. But suddenly, here they were, submerging me, and I was thankful to be surrounded by smiling, well-trained staff ready to hose me down with high-pressure jets afterwards, so that I could inhabit my body once again rather than remaining lost in the horrors of my mind.
By the time I got back to England it was late July, and Joe, Heather and the kids had vanished.
It was Ant who gave me the news on the doorstep when I popped in to see my son, and the fact that I managed to cope with even that just goes to show how much better I was feeling.
Ant was back in his old house and I spotted a young woman wafting around in the background, who I could only assume was my replacement.
I wondered, for a moment, what she was like, but then decided that was really of no importance to me. What was important was seeing Ben.
That was only yesterday, but it feels like about a week ago. Time flows strangely since I cracked my mind open on the edge of Lake Zurich. There’s so much for me to think about – so much more perspective framing the present, now that all those repressed memories are back.
Right now, I’m walking along the beach with him. We’ve just eaten falafel wraps while sitting on a bench.
‘Are you happy, Ben?’ I ask him.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Of course.’
‘Are you really, though?’ I insist. ‘You have to think about it and tell me the truth. It’s important.’
‘Um . . . OK . . .’ Ben says, frowning and kicking the sand. ‘Yeah, I am,’ he says. ‘My room’s really cool and we go to the beach every day and I do PlayStation with Lucy and on Fridays we have pizza.’
‘And Heather?’ I ask. ‘Is she nice to you?’
He nods. ‘Yeah, she is, Mum,’ he says. ‘She’s really nice.’
‘Good,’ I tell him, trying to ignore the pinching sensation in my heart. ‘That’s great. Because, you know, we’re going to have to decide where you live and when.’
‘Here,’ he says, without hesitation. ‘I want to live here.’
I glance out at the horizon and take a deep breath. I tell myself I can do this. I tell myself that I am strong. I will not cry. I absolutely will not cry today.
‘OK, but when do I get to see you?’ I finally ask him. He has picked up a lump of driftwood and is dragging it along the beach behind him. ‘I love you, and I need to see you sometimes, too.’
‘I could come to yours next week,’ Ben says, as if this is obvious, as if he’s already thought about how best to solve this. ‘I was supposed to be going to Ant’s with the girls, but I don’t really want to. He’s such a knob.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘OK, that works for me. Does that mean you wouldn’t mind coming to me for at least part of every school holiday?’
‘Sure,’ Ben says, with a shrug. ‘Why not?’
‘In which case, you’d have to go to school up here during term time?’
Ben looks up at me and nods again.
‘You don’t mind changing schools, then?’
He shakes his head. ‘I’ll be in the same school as Lucy anyway,’ he says.
‘Right,’ I say. ‘OK, then. That’s the way we’ll do it.’
I reach out and ruffle my son’s hair. I’m proud of myself. I have not cried. These tears? They’re just from the wind in my eyes.
When we get back to the house, Joe has gone out, purportedly to do some shopping.
‘He’s avoiding me, right?’ I ask Heather.
She wrinkles her nose. ‘Yeah . . .’ she says. ‘Yeah, he probably is, a bit.’
She offers me another cup of herbal tea and then sends Ben off to play with the girls so we can talk.
‘I feel that I need to thank you, Amy,’ she says earnestly.
‘Thank me?’ I say. Of all the things I expected from Heather, thanks were not at the top of the list.
She nods. ‘You might not want to hear this, but Joe and me and the kids . . . Well, we’re just so happy, Amy . . . We have to keep on pinching ourselves. Being together, being here in this house . . . It’s all just so unexpected. And none of it would have happened without you.’
‘Without me sleeping with your man, you mean?’ I ask, subconsciously trying, I suspect, to provoke her.
But Heather just nods. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
I swallow with difficulty and have to blink another pair of tears into submission. I look out at the back garden and see Riley and then remember that Riley is now called Dandy. She’s even got my cat. Talk about winner takes all.
‘I’m sorry,’ Heather says, reaching for my wrist. ‘I’m being insensitive, aren’t I?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I say. ‘It’s really fine.’
‘I’m trying to be more honest about things,’ she says. ‘But I don’t always get the balance right.’
I brush away the wetness with the tip of one finger and manage to smile at her weakly. ‘At least you’re not angry with me,’ I say.
‘No,’ Heather says. ‘No, I’m really not.’
‘Look, I’m happy for you,’ I tell her, and for the most part it’s true. I also hate her quite intensely, but I decide not to say that bit. Far better to appear magnanimous, after all. ‘I’d much rather Joe was
