by Jo Lovett
Right. She didn’t really have a choice about speaking to Sam. She’d suggest Wednesday, her work from home day.
It wasn’t a surprise that Sam was an extremely punctual caller. At 2 p.m. on the dot, Izzy’s phone rang. She was under the tree in her garden, taking advantage of an unusually sunny first week of June, ploughing through work on her laptop, only closing her eyes for a gentle snooze very occasionally.
‘Izzy Castle.’ Really? Was she really behaving like a teenager pretending that she wasn’t expecting Sam to ring? Like another US number would have called her at exactly the same time. Why hadn’t she just said Hi?
‘Hey, Izzy, it’s Sam. Thanks for taking the time to speak to me.’ His voice, with its lovely New York accent, was still shiver-down-spine-inducing gravelly, and he still sounded as though he was smiling as he spoke. He could make a fortune doing sex-god voiceovers. Obviously, now that Izzy was no longer twenty-two years old and completely un-cynical about the world, gorgeous voices no longer had the same effect on her, but still. Nice to listen to.
Actually, thinking about it, he could do pretty well in sex-god film roles too, not just the voice.
‘Hello,’ she said. Ooh, snappy dialogue.
‘How’ve you been?’
‘Good, thank you. I’m working while sitting in my garden and it’s beautiful weather and there are lots of birds cheeping, the flowers are in full bloom, there are lots of bees buzzing around and it’s the perfect temperature. Basically your perfect work day.’ Total verbal diarrhoea. What was wrong with her? This was worse than being over-formal. She needed a happy medium. ‘How are you?’
‘Also good, but not also sitting in a garden. I’m high up in my office in a skyscraper, far, far from anything that could be described as fresh air or cheeping birds. The closest things to nature I can see are tiny people running around ant-like on the sidewalks. It’s great that you get to work from home one day a week. And great that you managed to carry on working after you had your baby. I remember we talked about that.’
Flattering that he remembered the details of their conversation. Izzy remembered it very well, but being heavily pregnant and going to a café with the biggest crush you’d ever had was presumably a lot more memorable than gathering up someone’s spilled groceries and going for coffee with them. For all she knew, Sam regularly got taken for coffees after performing spilled-food, knight-in-shining-armour duties.
‘Yep, I’m very lucky. I’m very busy, obviously, like a lot of people, but my daughter’s seven now, and it’s getting easier, to the extent that, not joking, I occasionally even manage to get enough sleep. And I do love my job.’
‘I’m impressed. And pleased for you. And a little jealous on the sleep front.’
‘I can imagine. You must be even busier than I am.’ Did Izzy sound stalker-like knowing that he had a busy life? Hopefully not. It would have been strange if she hadn’t googled him.
‘Yep, busy is right. And not loving my job as much as you love yours probably. Well, I say the job, I actually do like my job, I could just take or leave some of my clients.’
‘But sadly the clients are kind of integral to the job?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Always a bugger.’
‘Indeed. And I’ve stupidly developed a reputation for getting things done quickly, which is great for business, but not so great for work-life balance. Speaking of which, I shouldn’t take up too much of your time. Thank you so much for speaking to me today.’
‘No problem. So how many other therapists have you spoken to?’
‘We’ve seen twelve. You’re the thirteenth.’
‘Twelve. That’s a lot.’ Crikey. There had to be a reason that twelve therapists had tried and failed, for a want of a better word.
‘Yep. Hoping thirteen’s our lucky number.’ Eek. This was starting to feel like a huge responsibility.
‘Let’s hope so. Does Barney know we’re speaking?’
‘No. I thought I’d check in with you first. I wanted to find out whether you were happy to try to help him. I know that kids in the UK carry on with school until July, but here they’re just starting their summer vacation. I was hoping to make strides with Barney’s stuttering during that time, away from the pressures of school. If you do feel able to take him on, it will obviously have to be mainly via video call or telephone, presumably, although we might visit the UK over the summer to see my in-laws, and could meet up then if you could fit us in.’ In-laws. Ridiculously, it hadn’t occurred to Izzy that Sam might have re-married. Way more ridiculously, she felt mildly disappointed, like it had anything to do with her or her life. ‘And, if you’re happy to take him on, I’ll very happily pay whatever your private rates are, plus any costs. Obviously. As you can tell, I’m, frankly, a little desperate. It’s affecting his confidence hugely, and has had a negative effect on his friendships, and I think he’s got into a vicious circle that I need to get him out of.’ Sam’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke. No-one would have been able to resist him sounding like that. Izzy certainly couldn’t.
‘I’d be very happy to work with him if I think I might be able to help. I really hope I can. Why don’t you tell me some more about his stutter? Let’s start with how it sounds.’
Izzy watched two greenish white butterflies, maybe cabbage whites, fluttering around each other a few feet in front of her while Sam spoke. It seemed that Barney’s stammer increased under stress and that he’d suffered some bullying because of it, and that his confidence had taken a nosedive as a result.
Sam really did have a lovely voice. Good job she was taking notes, or she might have ended up not concentrating and just enjoying listening to him talk. Lucky that she was an experienced professional, and therefore in no way fantasising about a prospective client’s married father.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I think you’ve painted a pretty full picture there of Barney himself, thank you. Now could I ask some questions about your home life, if that’s okay? Some of them might sound quite personal.’
‘Not a problem.’
‘Could you tell me first who lives at home?’ Maybe Sam and his new wife had had more children.
‘Barney; his twin sister, Liv; me; and our live-in housekeeper, who’s middle-aged and extremely strict and dour but adores the kids.’
‘She sounds perfect. I think we could all do with an adoring live-in housekeeper.’ If Izzy had one, her kitchen probably wouldn’t currently contain a very full ironing basket and a very empty fridge. She needed to remember to buy groceries on the way home from school with Ruby today. ‘And anyone else?’
‘Nope.’
‘You don’t have a partner?’ There were reasons that people generally used strangers as therapists. This was just embarrassing.
‘Not one who features in the kids’ lives.’
‘Okay. Great.’ Did she sound too enthusiastic about his single, or near-single status? Why did he have in-laws? ‘And, sorry to ask, do you ever have a partner staying over, or have you done so over the years? And, if it was before the accident, how did Barney react to that at the time and does he react worse now?’
‘I doubt that you’ll want to hear my entire dating history—’
He was right there. Izzy really didn’t. What did you say when someone you’d had a mega crush on years ago talked you through the many stunning women he’d shagged? Nothing? Something witty (but what?)? Something cool? Yeah, yeah, me too. I have a very lively sex life, no embarrassment here when my mother and her wife gave me sex manuals for my birthday, different date with a gorgeous man every week. Actually, what was she thinking, no need to say anything.
‘—but, in summary, I don’t have partners to stay over, and only stay over myself with someone if the kids are both away. And I don’t introduce them to my dates, so I don’t think that’s a problem. I mean, I’m not saying Barney likes the idea of my dating, but he doesn’t like my working either. I do have my in-laws, my late wife’s parents, to stay from time to time, but I
think that’s stress-free for Barney. In fact, better than stress-free; he loves having them to stay.’
Ah, so that was what he’d meant about in-laws. Though nothing to do with Izzy, of course.
‘Okay.’ Izzy felt it was time to move on. ‘And are there any arguments at home?’
‘Not really. I mean, no more than the usual. Maybe fewer than usual in that I have no significant other to argue with in front of the kids. Liv’s—’ he paused ‘—quite easy. As I mentioned, Barney gets upset when I have to work late, and then he stutters a lot. I don’t have a lot of opportunity to reduce my workload, but I figure that that isn’t the problem, in that most kids don’t stutter when they’re upset.’
‘Great. I have a fairly full picture now, so I think the next step would be for me to chat to Barney, if he’d like to.’
‘Fantastic. I’m hugely grateful.’
Izzy could hear the relief in Sam’s voice. He was clearly a very devoted father. Endearing, and more than a little attractive.
Nine
Sam
‘I appreciate that we might be intruding on family time, but would you be able to chat to Barney at the weekend? Probably work better that way because of the time difference.’ Sam definitely needed to be home when Barney was scheduled to make the call, to make sure that he did actually make it. Barney had met Therapist Twelve literally once, on his school premises, and hated her. He had then pretended that he was still talking to her regularly for the next three weeks until Sam discovered that he’d been paying for the woman’s time but not her actual services. To be fair to Barney, it hadn’t sounded as though her services were worth a lot, even if you actually took advantage of them.
‘Yes, no problem.’ Izzy had a very attractive voice. Almost musical. ‘I’ll email you if I may, once I’ve checked my diary.’
‘Of course. Thank you. I’m very grateful. I should probably let you get back to your garden solitude now before you have to return to the fray.’
‘Yep, I’m going to have to drag myself off for the school run in a minute. I’ll email you later.’
‘Great, thank you. Goodbye.’
‘Bye.’
It had been a good conversation, although Sam wondered if he should have given Izzy more details about the accident. Maybe, except he couldn’t bear to talk about it. And he wasn’t going to think about it now.
He caught himself doing a jaunty whistle as he walked across his office to get his third coffee of the morning. He was pretty hopeful that thirteen was indeed going to prove to be their lucky number.
Izzy was true to her word. The email came through mid-afternoon. It was very specific. She could do the call in one of two narrow time slots on Sunday.
Clearly a woman with structured weekends. There was married life for you. Sam did feel a little guilty about the additional pressure he was putting on her, but if there was even the smallest chance she could help Barney, he had to do it.
Hey Izzy,
2 p.m. your time Sunday will be great—I’ll make sure I haul Barney’s teenage butt out of bed in good time for it. Apologies in advance if he’s grumpy!
Best,
Sam
Obviously now he was going to have to clear the whole Therapist Thirteen situation with Barney, but at least Barney had indicated a couple times recently that he was getting pretty desperate to be able to speak ‘normally’ again. It was likely that he’d make the first call to Izzy, even if it didn’t go well and he refused to continue with her.
Hi Sam,
Ha, I’m with Barney on not liking an early start.
Great – I’ll speak to him Sunday.
All best,
Izzy
She sent through some details about where the call should take place, like somewhere Barney felt comfortable in but not violating a safe haven, and not his bedroom for child protection reasons. Good points. Which previous therapists with whom they’d consulted by phone had not made. Sam was liking Izzy’s therapy style a lot so far.
Sam wished the barman would turn the music down. A quiet evening would be nice. He spread his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, watching Melissa as she strutted towards him back from the restroom. She didn’t move like a regular woman. Everything she did was a performance, as if this venue were her personal catwalk.
She came to a halt in front of him, posed for a moment so that he could admire her, and then arranged herself, slowly, in the chair next to his, sitting just a little closer to him than she needed to, resting a hand just a little too high up his thigh for polite company. He couldn’t decide whether it was a turn-on or actually slightly annoying. Slightly over-proprietorial. Or slightly over-slutty on both their parts, given that they were out in public.
‘How would you like to stay over at mine tonight?’ she purred. Literally. Like a cat. A moderately terrifying cat. Maybe a panther.
Sam covered her hand with his own, having to make quite an effort not to push it down his leg towards his knee, and smiled at her. ‘You know I’d love to, but you know I can’t. The kids.’ His housekeeper was in the apartment overnight but, apart from anything else, he needed to be home to get Barney out of bed tomorrow morning and ready for his call with Izzy. He only ever stayed away from the kids overnight for work, never for pleasure, and now, with the way the twins were at the moment, was not the time to change that. ‘I have stuff to do with the kids in the morning.’ He and Melissa had been, loosely, together for, what, three or four months now? He should probably feel ready to tell her more about his children. Although, really, what was the point? Their relationship was never going to be serious, and, yes, she was great company, but he hadn’t yet uncovered a lot of evidence of empathy or sympathy in her. He smiled at her again. ‘Sorry.’
She pouted. ‘You always choose them over me.’ Well, of course.
‘I’m their father. They only have one parent. They deserve the best I can give them.’ Which obviously included his time. Even if they had two parents, they would still deserve for both their parents to choose them over anything or anyone else.
Melissa was looking up at him from under her impressively long lashes (were they real?), giving her lower lip a delicate chew. Sam was fairly sure that it was a look she’d mirror-practised at length. To good effect. If he were a lot younger and had known fewer women, he’d probably be feeling a little guilty right now. Maybe turned on as well. As it was, he just felt somewhat impatient. She gave the long eyelashes a flutter.
‘Let’s dance,’ he said. He wasn’t having whatever conversation she wanted to have.
‘And then back to mine for an hour or two?’ She was purring again. Couldn’t hurt, he supposed.
It was a good job that at no point had Sam been tempted to stay the night with Melissa, because getting Barney out of bed and alert and docile enough to call Izzy at 9 a.m. on Sunday morning had required the tenacity of a pit bull and the patience of a saint.
‘So how was that?’ Sam dared to ask as Barney headed past him toward the fridge after the call.
‘Cool. Izzy was nice. We just chatted.’ Barney was smiling.
Hey Izzy,
Thanks so much for the conversation with Barney. He said it was good—a major victory. He also said that it was great that you didn’t ask him his name. Hates saying it; never gets it out in one go.
Sam
P.S. He told me that you’re a big baker. Your husband’s a lucky man.
He should re-read his emails before he pressed Send. Why had he mentioned her husband? Did it sound sexist? Over familiar? What an idiot. If she was going to be lucky therapist number thirteen, he wanted to make sure that she stuck around therapy-wise.
She replied within a couple of hours.
Hi,
Not a problem. He was lovely. When would be best for our next call, assuming Barney would like to continue? I could do Saturday 3 p.m. UK time, while daughter at bucket-decorating (?!?) party, or Sunday 8.30 p.m. UK time (daughter in bed, I hope).
Izzy
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br /> P.S. For a lot of people with a stutter, their name’s the hardest word of all. And I already knew his name… Pointlessly sadistic if I’d asked him to say it!
P.P.S. Separated from husband. Much cake eaten by self therefore, to severe detriment of waistline.
Separated. Crap. Sam could give a masterclass in tactlessness.
Hey Izzy,
Serious apologies—foot in mouth. So sorry to hear about your separation.
Am sure your waistline still looks great.
I want to ask if you’re okay, but clearly none of my business.
Saturday 3 p.m. your time would be great.
Sam
The moment he pressed Send, he realised what he’d just written. What? What was he thinking? He’d just said he thought her waistline looked great. Way to improve on his tactless comment. This was making all the blathering he’d done on the phone about his dating history seem like relatively competent social interaction.
She replied almost immediately.
Hi.
All good, thank you. Sometimes relationships just get worn out…
I’ll look forward to speaking to Barney on Saturday.
Izzy
Hey.
With you on worn-out relationships.
Saturday fantastic.
Sam
Again, what? What did he even mean, ‘with you on worn-out relationships’? Officially losing it. He should stop emailing and get on with his day and behave like a person with normal levels of tact. And think before he pressed Send.
* * *
‘More chowder?’ Sam attempted an upbeat tone for the twins.
‘No. I wanted to go to Granny and Gramps’ for proper Sunday lunch.’ Liv pushed her chair back and stomped out of the room. Yeah, their housekeeper’s chowder was good but not up there with the pork dish and creamy dessert Sam’s mother had promised. The company at his parents’ would have been a lot more interesting, too. Sam was going to have to get back to his work soon, which was why they hadn’t been able to go over to New Jersey; and Barney had been pretty monosyllabic throughout the meal.